Chapter 11

The next morning dawned bright, and orange sunlight flooded the room. In the throes of a hangover, my head pounded. With a groan, I rolled over to shield my eyes. After sliding my clawed hand around, all I found were crumpled, empty sheets and a still warm dent in the mattress.

For a few long seconds, I lay still. In the muddled sludge of my mind, memories slurped through the ooze. Visions of Krista from the previous night. Both prior to her departure and upon her return.

As I smacked desiccated lips, my aching brain wavered. I had to know. No, I didn’t. It would be too painful for her. I’d done that to my loving wife. Sent her to that fucking beast.

“Oh, God,” left me as my eyelids flew open. “Fucking beast!”

Those handprints. No, they’d only danced. He’d simply gripped her too tight. She had delicate skin.

Maybe.

With a grunt, I staggered from bed. At a round of laughter, I tilted my head. It was hers, and the kids. Whatever I’d decide to say would have to wait.

Except, when I made it downstairs and headed for the kitchen, I slowed. In a short flower-print skirt and pink V-neck blouse, Krista was bending to look at something in Ben’s hands. They both were giggling as louder laughter came from Ella.

My family. Happy. Just as they should be. Plus, I didn’t want to die. Focus: find the money.

Right then, Krista noticed my approach. While straightening, she ran shaky fingers through her dark hair. Although she gave me a thin grin, her lower lip trembled. When I gripped her elbow to tug her from the table, she gasped. Her eyes watered.

“Are you ... Are you, um, okay, honey?” I whispered while turning us from the kids.

After a quick glance at Ben and Ella, she kept silent, but nodded.

“We need to talk.” I said, releasing her arm.

“No.”

That single word sliced so deep into my core the room wavered. As her expression changed from worried to neutral, I gulped.

“What happened?” I whispered anyway.

“It was...” With cheeks reddening, her body tensed. “We went to one of Yuri’s clubs.”

As I inspected her, gauzy images once again flowed. Yuri’s massive mitts roaming over my wife, then under her dress. Even as my stomach dropped away, heat flooded my face.

Oh, believe me, I should’ve asked so much more. Instead, I stayed quiet as she lifted to press her mouth to mine for a quick kiss.

“I’m okay, dear.” She ran that glittering pink tongue over her shaking lips. “It was, um, alright. Really.”

And just then, I absolutely should have dug further, but...

“Mommy, when are we leaving?” Ella called.

“Leaving?” I muttered.

“Yes.” A sudden grin broke the tension as she spun away to gather dishes. “We’re supposed to meet Claire and Don and the kids. Flea market day. You’d better get ready.”

As we grazed ramshackle stalls, looking for other people’s “junk with potential,” as Krista said, my mind kept whirling. Don and Claire spoke light-hearted words at me. Somehow, my brain tossed answers at them. Even sometimes with a grin. But all the while I couldn’t pull my eyes from my wife. What had they done? And God help me if I didn’t harden, as once more images of her and Yuri—doing more than dancing—snuck into my aching skull.

For her part, Krista, even as she played mommy and teacher with the kids, was different. There was something more floating inside her. Again braless, she hadn’t noted Don’s appreciative inspection. But I had, and shrugged at his raised eyebrows. Likewise, she was catching many other views, mostly from men, but also from a few women. Of the latter, they were evenly split—jealous or curious.