Slice by William Patterson Read Free Book Online

from the refrigerator, where he’d been pouring himself a glass of lemonade. Their housekeeper, a heavyset, gray-haired woman named Consuela, plopped a sprig of fresh mint into it for him as she walked past.
    â€œThe Bennetts,” Heather told him, not looking up from her table diagram.
    â€œWho’s the kid?” Bryan asked, carrying his lemonade over to the table and sitting beside his wife. “They finally adopt since Monica seems to have turned out to be sterile?”
    Heather sighed and lifted her eyes to look at him. “Apparently Jessie’s moved back into her mother’s old house.”
    Bryan just stared at her.
    Heather looked back down at her diagram. “So it must be her kid who Piper saw.”
    â€œWow, Jessie.” Bryan took a sip of his drink. “Well, what do you know? The prodigal has returned.” He looked over at the maid. “You’re right, Consuela. Everything does taste better with a bit of fresh mint.”
    â€œThat is true, Mr. Bryan.”
    His eyes returned to Heather and he leaned in close. “Maybe I oughta try putting a sprig between your legs,” he whispered.
    â€œYou’re a pig,” she replied.
    Bryan laughed, placing his lemonade on the table and sitting opposite his wife. “How does she look?” he asked.
    â€œHow does who look?”
    â€œJessie. Miss Jessica Clarkson, late of SUNY Purchase.”
    â€œI don’t know,” Heather said, still not looking back up at him. “I haven’t seen her.”
    Consuela set a glass of lemonade down beside Heather, topped with a bright green mint leaf.
    â€œThank you,” Heather said. She looked up at Consuela, who gave her a sympathetic gaze. Heather took a sip of the lemonade, feeling as if she might burst into tears.
    Bryan got up and sauntered outside, carrying his glass, calling to his kids, who ran toward him. Heather watched through the window. She knew what Bryan was thinking. Jessie Clarkson. The girl from college he’d never gotten into bed. Heather knew Bryan kept track of things like that. For Bryan, it was all about the score—even after being a supposedly “happily married man” for the past six years. Heather knew he’d already had Betsy Blair from the office, and Michele Mariano, the girl who used to help Heather at catering events. Not to mention Clare Dzialo, the kids’ nineteen-year-old babysitter, with whom Bryan had convinced Heather to join for a three-way. Heather had only done so because she knew otherwise he’d have done the deed without her, and better that she know about Bryan’s trysts than not. She knew her husband well enough to know that his testosterone-fueled brain—located not in his head but in his cock—was already clicking with ideas on how to finally get his old flame Jessie into bed with him. Heather would have to do what she always did. Join in, or look the other way.
    God, she hated him.
    She watched Bryan playing horsie outside on the grass, Piper and Ashton crawling over him, their tinkly laughter floating into the house through the windows.
    Well, Heather thought, what was good for the gander was good for the goose. She flipped over her cell phone and tapped in a text message to John Manning.

F IVE
    â€œA party? Oh, I don’t know, Aunt Paulette.”
    Jessie sat with her aunt on their back porch as Todd rode a lawn mower back and forth across the yard, the sharp fragrance of cut grass swirling through the air. In an area of the lawn already cut, Inga was painting the swing set a bright neon pink, as Abby danced around her, barely able to contain her excitement over her new toy.
    â€œYes, a party,” Aunt Paulette replied. “I think it would be wonderful for everybody along Hickory Dell to come and see how wonderful you look and how good you’re doing.”
    Jessie admitted to herself that she might not mind that, either. She’d seen the looks Gert Gorin