Hard Bastard(200)

Madison stared at me for a second and then quickly got herself together. “Well,” she said, “right this way.”

I followed her out and down a short hallway. Her desk was set up outside a large glass door. Inside I could see Cindy sitting at her desk. She waved me inside, smiling, though she was on the phone.

“See you later, Madison,” I said sweetly.

She didn’t respond, simply sat down at her desk as I pushed into Cindy’s office.

I had to hand it to the girl. I had dropped a bombshell on her out of nowhere, and she had gotten herself together pretty fast. I suspected she would show up at the parking garage; she wasn’t stupid. But I had to be careful of her.

I didn’t know what surprises she might have in store for me.



Lunch was fine. We ate at an expensive restaurant, and Cindy mostly talked about her job. I asked her questions to keep her going, not really interested in talking much myself.

I was pretty distracted. I kept thinking about Madison and began to wonder if I had made a mistake not confronting her with everything right there in the elevator. I could have pulled the emergency stop switch or something like that.

Lunch dragged on and on, but finally we left the restaurant at a bit past two. Cindy headed back to her office, and I took a short walk around downtown, killing time, letting my thoughts roam.

I kept coming back to Cole’s face and the way he touched me over and over. Even with the terrifying meeting ahead of me, I couldn’t stop thinking about Cole and his cocky swagger. Everything about him was frustrating but incredible, this heady mix of desire and lust and everything forbidden. Our potential divorce had basically slipped my mind, I realized with a start.

For the past year, I had done nothing but worry about that divorce. I had obsessed and thought about how much better my life could be if I didn’t have an absent husband weighing down my conscience. And suddenly he was back, but the divorce had slowly melted from my mind.

That was what he did to me. He made me forget what I wanted, replaced it with something else. Because for the past few weeks, ever since he had come home, what I really wanted was him. Not a divorce, nothing like that. Just him.

Eventually I found myself wandering into the parking structure outside Cindy’s workplace. I checked my watch: five minutes early. I quickly found the spot and leaned up against a pillar, waiting.

Madison was right on time. She walked out of the elevators and over toward me, her heels clacking on the concrete. Her face was hard and serious. There were only a few cars parked near us, which meant the place had an eerie, empty feeling.

Exactly what I wanted.

“Hello, Madison,” I said sweetly.

“What do you want?” she snapped.

I smiled and relished in her discomfort. “I wanted to talk to you about our little problem.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I laughed and shook my head. “Come on, Madison, really? Denial? That’s pretty weak.”

She looked flustered, frowning. “I’m, well, I just, I don’t know what you want from me.”

“Blackmail is serious, Madison. It’s a crime. You can go to jail for this.”

I actually wasn’t sure if that was right or not, but I didn’t care. The threat of jail had the desired effect, though. Madison looked even more agitated, even more confused.

“What do you want from me?” she said.

“I want you to stop. I want you to destroy the pictures you bought from Marla, and I want you to leave me and Cole alone.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said again.

“Marla, the waitress. We met her, you know. She told us that it was you who paid for the pictures.”

“Marla,” she whispered.

“Yes, Madison. We found her, and she told us everything. We have it all on tape. I’ve giving you an out here, letting you make up for the pain you’ve already caused. If you destroy the images and back off, we won’t go to the police with what we know.”

As I spoke, Madison’s face slowly drained of all color.

“Marla has proof, you know—emails from you.” I was bluffing, but I figured that was probably true.

And it paid off, because as soon as I said that she had emails, Madison burst out into tears.

I gaped at her as she stood there and sobbed. I had no clue what to do. She was my blackmailer and I wanted to hurt her, but I felt terrible that this poor girl was sobbing like an idiot in public.

“Okay,” I said awkwardly. “Please stop crying.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. It wasn’t my idea.” She was sobbing, and I could barely understand her.