Young Wives by Goldsmith Olivia Read Free Book Online Page A

to the dog. “Don’t be so down on him,” Michelle said, for what had to be the thousandth time.
    “Well, he does have two advantages over men,” Jada sniffed. “He doesn’t brag about who he slept with and he never calls her ‘bitch.”’
    Michelle laughed. Pookie stopped sniffing and started walking. Jada set a fast pace. Michelle smeared Blistex all over her wide mouth and handed it back to Jada. “Between the two of us this stick won’t last out the winter,” Michelle said.
    “Hell, it won’t last out the walk if you use that much,” Jada retorted.
    They walked for a moment in silence. “Do you think I’m getting fat?” Michelle asked, as she did almost every morning.
    “Yeah. And I’m getting white,” Jada retorted. Michelle giggled. Then her face took on her serious look the look that meant that soon the quiz would start, and Jada just wanted to put it off as long as possible.
    It was early enough that the streetlights were still on, but as the two women passed under one it blinked off. “So where do things stand, Jada?” Michelle asked, predictable as an actuarial table.
    “I don’t know. We never had time to talk.” Nevertheless, Jada raged about the condition of her kids and home the previous night as she and Michelle speed-walked past the quiet houses.
    “You have to draw a line in the sand,” Michelle said. “You have to…” But Michelle caught herself.
    Sometimes Jada thought her friend was afraid to give advice. “I don’t think I can stand it. I’m going to have to take an ax to his head, even though he is the father of my children.”
    “Hey. When did that stop you before?” Michelle asked, and Jada had to grin.
    Michelle definitely had a giving NUP—a term Jada had invented to categorize a person’s Natural Unit Preferences. Michelle was a generous friend, and generous to her husband and children. But somehow Jada just didn’t feel like taking pity from Michelle right at that moment.
    “He’s gone crazy on you, Jada,” Michelle said. “If Frank ever…”
    Jada tuned out because she loved Michelle—she was her best friend, even if she was from the south, white, had a stupid dog, and was sometimes thick as a plank.
    It had been weird when Jada realized that she really didn’t have any close black friends anymore. She couldn’t hang with the African-American tellers at the bank and she didn’t relate to the few neighborhood strivers whose daddies and granddaddies were professionals and who went to college—real sleep-away colleges. She certainly couldn’t relate to Clinton’s homies, who thought that double negatives were standard and career planning was marriage to a man with a job at the post office.
    She and Michelle had a lot in common, but Michelle actually thought Frank was perfect and closed her eyes to all the funny stuff that went on in Frank’s business, not that any of it was funny. Jada knew there were county contracts, inside deals. Frank Russo thrived, even when the economy was at its darkest. There was no way that Frank hadn’t paid off officials, wasn’t connected to…Well, Jada didn’t like to think about it. It was none of her business. But a few years ago, when Frank had asked Clinton to join him in business, Jada had actually been relieved when, for once, Clinton had made the right decision. It wasn’t jealousy that made Jada believe that the Russos had a little too much cash. If Mich wanted to close her eyes to it, that was her business.
    The Jacksons had bought Jada’s Volvo station wagon from the Russos. It had been Mich’s car. But Michelle got a new model every eighteen months or so. Since Jada had gotten the station wagon, Michelle had been through two—no, three—luxury cars, and she’d told Jada Frank paid cash for every one. Jada had to admit Frank Russo was a good man—for a man. Most importantly, he really adored Mich. But that didn’t fool Jada: when it came to his NUP, old Frank was a taker, too. In a way he was worse