For Alice, With Love

Chapter 12 - Shake It Off

Mel took a moment to calm her jumping nerves before she reached the front doors. Holy hell, what just happened? One minute they were talking, and she had just started massaging his shoulders, seeing how tense that phone call had made him. Touching him, feeling the heat of him, the muscles bunched and hard, and it had dropped her stomach into her feet. He felt good under her hands. But when he got up, Oh my God. The look on his face had been feral; pure sex. She had wanted to jump at him and do naughty things. But she'd stopped herself.

He'd made the decision for them, which she was fine with. At least now they knew there was still a spark, and as she got to the door, realized she wanted it. Him.

She shoved her hair off her face and opened the door, pasting a cheery smile on for whoever was there.

It didn't last long. Standing on the veranda, phone in hand, in a well-filled designer maternity suit with matching bitch-face, was Gillian. Obviously she'd been "in the neighbourhood" when she'd called. Lovely.

"Ms. Smith," Mel said flatly. "To what do we owe this pleasure?"

Gillian flicked a finger and looked at her, her eyes going a little wide, then her cool façade sliding back into place. Mel was sure she recognized her, but she waited. Two could play this game.

"It's Ms. Smith-Werth, you stupid cow. I'm here to see my husband. Why else would I be here?"

"Pardon me—" Mel stopped herself from further retort, and simply moved out of the way, gesturing through the door. Gillian steamrolled past her, moving quite fast for a woman who was carrying a small beach ball out front of her body while wearing heels.

Mel closed the door and listened to Gillian screeching as she clicked her way across the tile. Closing her eyes, she counted to ten to prevent herself from chasing and physically throwing a pregnant woman out of the house.

Oh lord, here we go, she thought as Gillian got louder, screaming her ex-husband's name. Mel made it back to the living room in time to see Chris skid out of the office, a look of surprise on his face. She snuck around behind them, into the office.

"You asshole! You don't hang up on me!" "Gillian, you can't be here. I suggest you leave. I will call the—" "Don't you dare, or I'll say you hit me. I want those paintings! NOW!" "Look, Gill—"

Mel took in the back and forth, utterly shocked at how they spoke to one another. What was the big deal about these paintings? She wondered if it was simply a way for Gillian to dig the screws into Chris for some reason or another, and a curl of anger towards the woman grew as they argued. She could buy new paintings, for Christ's sake.

Mel caught Chris' eyes through the door, and penned a "call lawyer?" on a notepad and held it up. He shook his head imperceptibly, his arms crossed, tension across his shoulders even more evident now. His face hard and angry, jaw jumping with his efforts to hold it all in.

She twisted her lips, wrote "police?" and held it up again. Again he shook his head no. She nodded, and moved off to the side, and sat in an arm chair. This might take awhile. Restless, she picked up the business book Chris was reading, and thumbed through it, trying not to pay attention, and failing.

Divorce was a crazy thing. Two people, who supposedly loved one another, could so radically change their feelings that it became an all-out war. From love to hate. Mel had never seen divorce up close before, and was suddenly glad for it.

"I don't think you understand. Like I said on the phone, the paintings were sold with the condo," Chris snapped, walking back into the office, startling Mel to her feet. She picked up a file quickly, pretending to look through it. Inconspicuous? Hah. Here we go.