Silence stretches for just a beat before he asks, “Are you done?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now talk. It’s my day off and I’m not getting paid for this shit.”
“Fine.” I take a deep breath and mentally count down from ten before looking around to ensure that no one seems overly interested in my conversation. As I suspected, the rest of the café is oblivious. Another perk of the city—we’ve seen and heard it all. No one cares enough to eavesdrop because they’re too busy trying to conceal their own dirty, little secrets. “What do you know about open marriages?”
“A lot. Be more specific.” Not even an inkling of surprise or over-interest.
“I mean, do you think they can work? If both parties can agree to it?”
“They have worked, yes. But I believe that a relationship, namely a marriage that is built on the foundation of monogamy and devotion, can only survive if the circumstances are right. And the reasons for the arrangement are of a decent nature.”
“What do you mean?”
“To be frank, is this arrangement based off the fact that either you or your husband merely want to fuck other people?”
“No! Of course not. And I’m not even saying that this is about me and my husband.”
“Whatever. I’m not judging. But the fact that I only found out about this husband mere months ago speaks volumes, Heidi. Why the secrecy? Is it because you’re ashamed of him? Or you want to live a life separate from him? Is that your motivation for an open marriage? Because in that case, I say get a divorce.”
“Save the self-righteous psychobabble, Dr. Feel Good. I never hid my marriage from you. It was none of your business. And you’re the one with Magnum P.I. on the payroll. All the dirt you dig up on your clients and you can’t get your thumb outta Allison’s ass long enough to do a quick Google search about my marital status?”
“Huh. Well, what can I say? I’m more interested in the people who pay me. Not the ones who charge me enough to mortgage a small castle.”
“Obviously, I need a raise.”
“You’re getting it now.” He clears his throat and when his voice floats through the phone again, it’s devoid of all humor and cynicism. It’s almost sincere . . . sympathetic. “Heidi, I don’t usually suggest open marriages unless each spouse is completely comfortable of the terms and the reasons behind it. A good reason to go down that road is if one of them are handicapped or medically incapable of providing their wife or husband sexual pleasure. Or if they are merely sexually incompatible, yet very deeply in love. Being a slut isn’t a good reason. Getting tired of the same dick or pussy is not a good reason. If one wants to seek pleasure in others, solely for the purpose of sexual gratification, then they don’t need to be married. Now, I won’t ask you if any of this pertains to you, but I will say . . . be very careful what doors you open in your marriage. Once open, some can never be closed. And you’re allowing just about any and everything to taint the sacredness of your vows.”
Stunned, I silently chew the straw of my drink for a good fifteen seconds before responding. “Wow. I have to say, that girl is getting to you.”
He laughs, the cocky tremor of his deep voice booming from the other side of the country. “And that’s a bad thing?”
“No. Yes. I’m worried you’re losing your edge. Just when I started liking your arrogant ass.”
“Trust me. My ass is still very much arrogant. You just saw it a month ago.”
“I know, it’s just . . . I’ve never heard you actually speak like that . . . with so much passion and conviction. I have to say, Justice, I’m impressed. You might not be as full of shit as I initially thought.”
He laughs again, and this time I join him. “Look, Heidi. We both know that monogamy isn’t always successful for people like us.”
“People like us?”
“Sharks. Predators. We take what we want without apology, no matter who gets hurt. We’re selfish motherfuckers, but that doesn’t mean we don’t feel. And when we do happen to find that one person in this world who can tame us, who isn’t afraid of getting ripped to shreds and eaten alive, we have to do whatever it takes to keep them. Because being wild again just isn’t an option. Not anymore. So if this is what he needs, or what you need, just be sure you’re doing this to help your marriage, not harm it. And above all, realize what you’d be losing. What you could never, ever have again.”
“And what’s that?”
“Your innocence.”
I snort, and roll my eyes. “Innocence? You do realize that when a man and a woman love each other, they sometimes like to show it by taking off their clothes and getting into bed together. Sheesh, I thought you of all people would understand the birds and the bees.”
“Not your sexual innocence, wise ass. The innocence and sanctity of your union. When you get married, you create a bond between you and your husband, and if you’re religious, God. You become untouchable to everything else. That person becomes as essential to your being as the air you breathe. But the moment you invite someone else to stand within that union, you find that you don’t need your spouse as much as you once thought you did. You can breathe without him. You can find gratification without him. You can live without him. And that’s a slippery slope for someone you have vowed to love for eternity.”
“So you don’t think you can maintain the emotional bond of a marriage if the sexual aspect is unconventional? Kinda narrow-minded coming from someone who makes his living off staging fantasies.”
“I didn’t say it doesn’t happen. I didn’t even say I disapprove. I’m just giving you my honest opinion. Experimentation is one thing, and it can be uniquely beneficial to a marriage, especially one that’s withstood the test of time. However, when does an experiment or a fantasy turn into a habit? And when does that habit turn into a full-blown affair?”
I can almost imagine the smug grin on his face as he leaves me too stumped to answer eloquently. Tucker and I experimented, and it was great. Better than great. So much so, that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. Haven’t stopped wanting it.
My mistake wasn’t sleeping with Ransom. It was letting that fantasy blur into reality. What happened between the three of us should have stayed and died in that hotel suite. It should have been nothing more than a few risqué memories for Tucker and me to laugh about in bed between wet kisses and eager touches. Something to get us hot and bothered before expelling all that lustful energy into each other.
“You’ve given me a lot to think about. Thanks, Justice,” I say, my words as sober as my heart and mind. “Hey, I have to make a call. Talk soon?”
“Hopefully not too soon.” He hangs up before I get the chance to. I swear, I think we’ve made hanging up on each other a game.
I scroll through my contacts and land on R. His number is the first name in that section. Even if it weren’t, it’d still be the only one I see.
After five rings, I’m just about to hang up when he answers, obviously out of breath. Heat flames my face—guilt, suspicion, desire—and I stammer out a cold greeting. Initially I think he’s still busy with his last night’s booty call, but then I hear the sounds of drums and a guitar tuning up.
“Heidi? You need something?”
“Oh.” I clear my throat, trying to put the business back in my tone. “I wanted to see if we could discuss something. It’s important, and I’d like to get this over with at your earliest convenience.”
“Well, I’m at sound check for SNL. I’ll see you later, right? And we can just talk then.”
“Well, actually, I—” I hear the piercing sound of a microphone on the fritz, shrill enough to make my eardrums bleed.
“Hey, we’ll talk later. I gotta go. Ok?”
Fuck. Not ok. “Yeah. Ok.”
I hang up, and set my head in my hands, feeling like a complete pansy. Shark, my ass. I can’t even quit a fucking job.