The Young Wives Club Page 9

  Jillian swept into the room, tucking her short golden hair behind her ears. She was in her midforties, but people often asked Jillian and Claire if they were sisters, and not in a fun, joking way. Claire liked to tell people it was a blessing that her mom looked so good—it meant she’d age well, too.

  “Sure thing, sweetheart,” Jillian said, pulling a bottle of wine out of her canvas bag. Claire tried not to look at it in disapproval; she wasn’t about to lecture her free babysitter. The silver bangles on Jillian’s wrist clinked together as she set the wine on the coffee table. “Sadie and me’ll be fine. Now, where are y’all going again?”

  “Gavin’s going over to his friends to watch the LSU game,” Claire said, putting her jacket on. “The girls and I are going to the Gumbo Fest.”

  “Oh yeah. Went last night.” She began uncorking the bottle. “It’s a real good time.”

  Gavin entered the room. “Thanks for watching Sadie for us,” he said, giving his mother-in-law a hug and kiss on the cheek.

  “You kids have fun,” Jillian said, pouring her first glass of wine as Claire and Gavin headed to the door. “Don’t get into too much trouble!”

  • • •

  CLAIRE PULLED HER car into the packed festival parking lot and found the girls in the tent, sitting at a long table near the bandstand. The Gumbo Fest was an annual tradition where almost everyone in town—from the drunks to the rich folks who lived on Darby Lake—mixed and mingled over good food and live music. The gumbo cook-off was just as popular as the line-dance contest, and the funnel cakes were the best in the world, according to an unscientific poll developed by Madison and Claire when they were kids.

  The girls greeted her, but Claire noticed her hug with Madison was a little stiffer than the others. As she sat down in the plastic seat they’d saved her, she saw that they’d already ordered food and gotten her a big bowl of gumbo.

  Claire nodded to Gabby’s left hand, where the two-carat princess-cut diamond glimmered. “Is your arm sore yet from carrying that gigantic thing around?”

  Gabby blushed and put her hand down in her lap. “It’s not a big deal, really.”

  Claire frowned. The day after Gabby’s engagement, Claire had stopped by the day care and her jaw dropped when she saw what was on Gabby’s finger. Hours before, Gabby had been claiming that she was going to break up with this guy, and now here she was, engaged. And when Claire made a big deal about it, Gabby downplayed everything. She’d known Gabby her whole life and the girl had been planning her dream wedding since she was eight. She couldn’t figure out why her friend was suddenly being so evasive about it.

  Madison held up her ringless hand. “And then there was one. You guys are dropping like flies.”

  “I’m sure if Cash gave you even a Cracker Jack box ring, you’d be on your way to the chapel in a heartbeat,” Laura said with a laugh.

  “I highly doubt it’ll happen anytime soon.” She frowned. “Cash and I are only hookup buddies. He’s made that loud and clear. ‘Band comes first, babe,’ ” she said, mocking his deep voice. “But whatever. I’m having some fun with someone else.”

  Claire leaned in across the sticky table, intrigued. Normally, Madison told her everything about her romantic entanglements.

  “Well . . . who is he?” Laura asked eagerly.

  “My dad’s boss.” Madison took a sip of her Coke and gave the girls a measured look, waiting for their reactions.

  Claire’s initial thought was that someone needed to slap some sense into her cousin. But screaming, Are you out of your damned mind? might go over poorly, so she went with: “Um, how old is this guy?”

  “Thirty-something, I don’t have his birth certificate. But I’m not like into him, you guys.” She shrugged. “We’re just friends, and he happens to be a nice distraction when Cash is too busy with his dumb band.” She held her hand up, rubbing her thumb, middle, and index fingers together. “Plus, he’s rich.”

  Claire sat back in shock. “So, you’re using him for money?” she asked. The words came out far more judgmental-sounding than she’d meant.

  Madison looked away, her cheeks reddening. “Whatever. He’s taking me to a Mardi Gras Ball in New Orleans. I get to go to New Orleans and stay at the Ritz freakin’ Carlton!”

  “So you’re using him for money,” Gabby repeated.

  Madison held her head up, her eyes narrowing. Claire knew that look—it was the same one Madison had worn when she was twelve and had snuck bottles of beer for her and Claire at a family reunion. It meant she was scheming. “And to make Cash jealous.”

  “Is it working?” Laura asked, blowing on a spoonful of gumbo.

  “Well, you shoulda seen the look on Cash’s face a few weeks ago when George and I pulled up next to him in the Porsche on Tilley Road. . . .” Madison leaned back in her chair and smiled slyly. “I’ve never seen Cash Romero look so insecure in his life. He’s been texting me like crazy this week, and we’re going to his family’s cabin tomorrow.”

  Madison could handle herself, and if this was what she wanted to do, nothing Claire could say would stop her, but still . . . “Don’t you feel a little guilty playing this guy?”

  Madison huffed. “Not at all—he’s using me, too. He’s nice enough, but he’s so socially awkward, it’s not like he’s got girls flocking to hang out with him.” She grabbed the corn bread and tore a piece off. “If I can bring some amount of happiness to his lonely life, then don’t you think it’s worth a trip and maybe a few gifts?” She popped the corn bread into her mouth.

  “Just be careful,” Claire insisted. This whole thing sounded like a bad idea, and she didn’t want her cousin to get hurt—or hurt someone else, for that matter.

  Madison rolled her eyes. “Okay, Mom.”

  Claire hid a smile. Finally. She’s back to her old self. Maybe she didn’t totally agree with Madison’s plan, but she didn’t want to strain their relationship again. She put her arm on Madison’s shoulder. “But . . . if you want to pick me up in the Porsche one day, I’ll have no objections,” she joked.

  “Deal.” Madison grinned.

  Claire and Laura hit the funnel cake stand while Gabby and Madison held the table, the delicious smell of fried food thick in the air. The line, which was moving at a glacial pace, snaked back through booths full of vendors selling knickknacks.

  “So, how’s Brian doing?” Claire asked. They hadn’t had much time alone since Laura had been back, and Claire was worried about her friend—and how her relationship was holding up under all of that stress.

  “Um, you know . . .” Laura said, edging forward in the line.

  The girls sidestepped a wobbly man in a cowboy hat who was holding a bottle of Bud. “No, I don’t,” Claire said slowly. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s just been really hard living with his parents,” Laura said with a sigh. “They’re so nice, but. . . .”

  Cowboy Hat Man took a drunken stumble and fell to the ground. The girls jumped out of his way just in time. Claire shot him a look of disgust and turned her attention back to Laura. “But what?”

  “I’m going batshit crazy,” Laura confessed. “They’re just always there. Brian and I are never alone.” She paused. “We haven’t had sex in, like, two months.”

  Claire’s eyes widened. “Really?” Well that certainly put her dry spell with Gavin in perspective. She and Gavin had a somewhat disappointing quickie the other week after one of their date nights. It wasn’t the crazy, passionate lovemaking of the early days of their marriage, but at least it was something.

  Laura bit her lip and frowned. “I swear it’s like Janet knows when we’re about to do it or something. She always comes knocking, hollering about breakfast or coffee or some dumb report on the news.”

  “I’m sorry, sweetie,” Claire said. “It’s just for another few months, right?”

  “Yeah.” Laura paused at a booth selling glass paperweights and grabbed one with a crawfish design in the middle. Claire noticed for the first tim
e how tired Laura looked. Her long blond hair—normally shiny and curled—hung lank around her face, as if she’d been too exhausted to do anything with it. “Would it be weird if I bought this for Ricky Broussard?”

  Claire made a gagging sound. “Why the heck would you buy something for Ricky?”

  “I decided I’m gonna ask for a promotion to manager at the restaurant,” Laura said, putting it back down on the table. “I’m over being a waitress.”

  Claire put her hand on Laura’s shoulder. “You don’t need a suck-up gift. You’re worthy of a promotion even without a twenty-dollar piece of glass.”

  Laura stood in silence for a moment, looking as if she was trying to convince herself of her worthiness. “Maybe,” she said, like she didn’t quite believe it.

  Claire squeezed her arm encouragingly. “You got this. Besides,” she said playfully, grabbing the paperweight, “I’m going to get this for Gavin’s office, and there’s only one.”

  • • •

  AS THE GIRLS finished up the last piece of the funnel cake, Claire checked her watch. “Y’all, I hate to do this ’cuz I’m having so much fun, but I gotta go.” She wiped her hands with the paper napkin and stood up. “My mom’s at home with Sadie right now, and I’ve got to relieve her.”

  She gave all the girls a hug and kiss on the cheek. When she got to Madison, she held her a little tighter. “Love you,” Claire whispered in her ear. Madison gave her a squeeze back.

  As she walked back to her car, she thought about Madison’s odd new relationship, Gabby’s awkwardness about her engagement, Laura’s difficulties with Brian, and even the issues she struggled with in her own marriage. She pulled out her phone and opened Gavin’s Twitter account. “The only one who should judge is God,” she typed. “You never truly know what’s going on, so use your energy to lift others up, not tear them down.”

  During the drive home, Claire turned on the radio, tapping her fingers to cheesy love songs as she drove down Main Street. A few teenagers were hanging out by the gas station, smoking and skateboarding around the parking lot. She rolled her eyes at them but then noticed a familiar truck pulling out of the station ahead of her. The bumper sticker read: RON PAUL.

  Well I’ll be darned, she thought. Gavin must have gotten done with the guys early. A smile grew on her face as she thought about pulling up behind him in the driveway. “You were there this whole time?” he’d say, greeting her with a kiss.

  She wondered if he realized she was right behind him. It was probably too dark for him to tell. They drove through two stoplights and Claire thought about giving him a call. Maybe they could pull off somewhere. . . . Claire felt a rush of desire and reached for her phone, but then Gavin’s truck turned onto the highway on-ramp. She leaned back, confused. That wasn’t the way to get home. . . .

  Her mind raced. Keep following him or go home? She turned her blinker on and the next thing she knew, she was headed south on I-49. She was immediately filled with regret. A wife was supposed to trust her husband, and she always trusted Gavin. Following him down the highway was not a way to show her faith in him. She almost turned around—once, twice—but Gavin kept driving, and with each passing mile, a little voice in the back of her head whispered, This is the way to The Saddle.

  Finally, they neared the infamous strip club, the neon lights clear even from a distance. Through the darkness, a flashing sign showed a sexy woman riding a bull. Keep driving, she willed the truck in front of her. Go past this. You wouldn’t do this to us.

  She groaned as Gavin’s truck pulled into the gravel parking lot and cozied up between two beat-up cars. Several potbellied, grizzled men stood against one wall, chain-smoking. All of the building’s windows were blacked out. Claire pulled over to the highway’s shoulder, feeling dizzy as she watched her husband get out and walk into the dilapidated building. What the hell is he doing in a place like this? She hadn’t felt this angry with a man since her dad walked out on her and her mom.

  Tears started to flow down her face, and soon she was sobbing, her head pressed against the steering wheel. Gavin was supposed to be a good guy. What had she missed? She grew angry with herself, too, for being as naive as Madison thought. She resisted the urge to get out of her car, storm into that horrible place, and confront her husband. Instead she rolled down her window and threw the glass paperweight on the sidewalk, shattering it into a million pieces.

  13

  madison

  “SO, WHAT’S THIS guy’s deal?” Cash asked, lighting his cigarette.

  He and Madison were sitting on the rotting wood bench outside his parents’ cabin, which was set back in the woods about thirty minutes outside Toulouse. They were having a smoke, and she had just casually mentioned hanging out with George at the Paradis Coffee House, a newly opened café that catered to Toulouse’s artsy and sophisticated crowd.

  “I met him through my dad. He’s the CEO of my dad’s old company.” Madison took a sip of her beer, trying not to smile.

  He raised his eyebrow. “A suit, huh? So, are y’all, like, dating?”

  “Not exactly.” Madison ran a hand down his arm, the muscles hard beneath his shirt.

  Cash paused for a moment, a rare look of consternation on his face. “So . . . that means we can still do it, right?”

  Madison rolled her eyes. “You sure do know how to make a girl swoon.” She stared at him for a second. “So, you’re cool with this?” This was clearly bothering him, which made her want to grin in victory.

  He took a swig of his beer, squinting in the sun, finally saying, “Why wouldn’t I be? You can do what you want.”

  The words took her by surprise. A piece of her had hoped that he’d be so overcome with jealousy that he’d scoop her up and declare his love for her right there. “I guess I just don’t understand what we are . . . what this is,” she blurted, immediately regretting it. She sounded like those girls she made fun of—the clingy ones like Claire and Laura, desperate to define the relationship.

  Cash sighed, smoke filling the air. “We talked about this already, babe. You know I’m not in a place for something serious.”

  Madison looked at the muddy ground, fighting back an inexplicable sadness. She was usually okay with their relationship—hell, she wasn’t the type to settle down either—so why did this bother her?

  Cash nudged her with his shoulder, and she looked back up, her body tingling at his touch. “You know I think you’re cool,” he said, “and I care about you—that’s why I don’t want to hurt you.”

  You just did, she admitted to herself.

  She and Cash had been hanging out for three years now, ever since they began hooking up sophomore year. Every so often, she’d wonder if he was getting serious about her, like when he’d invited her to his parents’ house for his birthday dinner last year. She had met his cousins and uncles and even his PawPaw at a family barbecue, and he always called her “his girl.” But every time she started to feel like this could be something real, he’d do something to remind her that it wasn’t, like drop her home early to go to a house party without her or not call her for three weeks. He continually managed to find subtle ways to keep her in check.

  Oddly, it wasn’t the romantic rejection that hurt Madison the most . . . it was how stupid she felt every time he did this to her. But it worked; every time he made her feel like she couldn’t have him, she wanted him more.

  A hummingbird buzzed in front of them, stopping at the recycled bird feeder Cash’s mom had made out of Heineken bottles, and a cool breeze gusted through the trees. Madison shivered and pulled her sweater tighter around her.

  “I understand,” she lied. “It actually works out better for me, too—if we’re not, you know, exclusive.” She sucked her cigarette and then blew the smoke out hard.

  Cash glanced up quickly, a satisfying look of concern on his face.

  “I was kinda feeling guilty about the whole George thing. But it makes me happy—relieved, actually—that you’re so cool with it.” She str
oked his knee. If he was going to play games, she was, too. “We’re actually going away together for Mardi Gras.”

  Cash cleared his throat. “You just said it wasn’t anything?” His voice had an edge to it now.

  “Oh, yeah . . . it’s probably nothing,” she said, waving smoke away from her face. She could sense she was getting a rise out of him, and it made her happy.

  “ ‘Probably?’ ” He angled toward her, finally giving her his full attention. “Whatever . . . fine, go with him. But you know you’re gonna come back here beggin’ for me.”

  “ ‘Begging?’ ” Madison teased. “All I have to do is this, and you’ll be begging for me.” She crushed her cigarette into the ground and straddled him. He groaned in pleasure and pulled her body close to his. He smiled and ran his hands through her hair, sending a tingle down her spine. She kissed him, breathing in the taste of cheap beer and cigarettes. She knew it was silly but it turned her on because it tasted like Cash.

  “Let’s go inside,” he whispered in her ear.

  They left their drinks outside and hurried into the cabin. He ripped her sweater off as soon as they got inside, her shirt and bra following suit. She shivered in the cool air and ran her hands along his abs. Cash guided her to the black futon in the front room and lowered himself over her. His every move made Madison feel bad, but in a good way. He grabbed her hips so hard that the line between pleasure and pain vanished. Madison flipped on top and ground into him, both of them moving so vigorously that the futon creaked dangerously beneath them.

  This was hands down the hottest sex they had ever had. Hotter than the first time, when Madison went dry-mouthed at the sight of his body. Hotter than the time they were both high and did it in her parents’ shed, laughing and moaning at the same time. Even hotter than the Halloween when she wore the purple wig and pretended to be a stranger. Something was different about this time, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what.