“I have a hard time with their names. Knowing if they’re a vegetarian, or Jewish to the point of only eating Kosher…not a clue. Tony, on the other hand, has it all down.”
Interesting. “But you know what the kids at the club eat?”
She helped him with his load until the back of the car was stacked full. She pressed a button and the hatch closed. “They’re kids. They haven’t been told what to like yet. I just try to keep it healthy without being obvious. Dip the strawberries in chocolate and leave fresh ones alongside them, and they all disappear.”
Zach leaned against the car since she wasn’t working her way back into the house. “My mom smothered broccoli in cheese sauce.”
“Exactly.”
“It sounds like you take good care of the kids.”
“They’re good kids. We can afford to spoil them.”
“So you like kids?”
“Yeah.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “But you don’t want any of your own?”
She blinked a couple of times. The answer stuck somewhere between her brain and her lips. “I’d like kids…someday.” She narrowed her blue eyes on him. “Well, I should go.”
Zach pushed away from the car, giving her room.
She opened the driver’s door and said, “Can you remind Michael that he promised to stop by at three today? He said something about taking you out to shop for your sister’s birthday present.”
He’d forgotten. “Shopping. Yeah.” There was no joy in his voice.
“I’ll ask the girls what’s on the top of a seventeen-year-old’s wish list. Maybe they can help.”
“If it cuts out hours, I’m all ears.”
“You sound like Michael.”
Zach shook his head. “No, he sounds like me. I’m older.”
Karen slid on a pair of sunglasses and dropped behind the wheel, a smile played on her lips. “I’ll see you later then.”
He watched her drive away and hated how much he would enjoy seeing her later.
Karen brought the food early so kids could jump in before school and grab a bite. Much like Pavlov’s dogs, which salivated with the sound of a bell, every kid in the club knew when Karen and Michael threw a party, and whenever Michael himself was going to make an appearance. She had to admit, making Michael her temporary husband had been a complete windfall for the kids.
Last year the club had been struggling with finances, and she was dipping into her income to help. It wasn’t as if she had a big account or anything. Oh, she could hit up Samantha, and didn’t feel guilty about doing so once in a while. But this was her passion, and she didn’t want to mooch off her friends, even if her friends had serious money.
Long after lunch when the rest of the party food was gone, Karen stood in the kitchen doing dishes. Her mind drifted to her handful of friends and she couldn’t help but smile. How the hell did a girl like her end up with such an influential guest list of her own to add to Michael’s at these parties? It was insane.
She’d barely made it through college because of funds, she’d only just managed to pay off her student loans before signing up with Alliance. The only reason she was driving around in new cars was because Michael insisted they lease her something new. As he put it, no one would believe that his wife would be driving around in a seven-year-old Mazda with a broken air conditioner. The car wasn’t that bad, but she knew he was right. She did nix anything over the top. It had taken the kids a few months to settle down after her marriage, and if she’d parked some hundred-thousand-dollar sports car in the drive, it would be near impossible to get the attention of the boys. On days like today, she brought the Escalade, which wasn’t an unlikely car to be parked in the lot. She usually knew when Michael showed up before he walked in the door. He had no problem bringing something flashy for the kids to drool over. It brought joy to the kids, and to Michael.
The man worked nonstop. Oh, he played hard, too. They’d returned to Europe together and taken the inside passage in Canada and Alaska the previous summer. There were parties and award dinners with passing friends and fake acquaintances. There were a few people that Michael called friends, but she didn’t think there was even one he’d shared his true life with.
Karen put the last of the dishes in the massive machine, lowered the door, and turned it on.
After grabbing the last of the empty trays that were ready for the trash, she opened the back door and moved around to the front of the building where they housed the Dumpster.
As usual, the roar of an engine sounded like a mating call to teenage boys. She turned around, garbage in hand, and caught sight of Michael pulling into the parking lot. The copper metallic paint glistened off the low-profile sports car that she couldn’t immediately identify. It wasn’t his. Or at least, it hadn’t been when she’d left the house that morning.
Kids started pouring from the club as he cut the engine, and he and Zach hopped out of the car with cat ate the canary grins on their faces.
Karen popped the garbage into the trash can and wiped her hands on her pants as she walked over to greet the boys, who looked as if they had just been on a joy ride. She knew he’d show up in something crazy expensive, but she assumed it would be the Ferrari parked in the garage that she’d all but refused to ride in because of the time the semitruck nearly ran them over.
With her best eye roll, she crossed her arms over her chest and stared Michael down. “What did you do?”