Friends & Fauxs Read online

  He grew in size appreciably and began moving his hips urgently to meet her lips. Grabbing the back of her head, he groaned in ecstasy, thrust himself unrelentingly in and out of her mouth. Max took her mouth as forcefully as he had taken her sex only moments earlier, though there were no signs of complaint. Mildred had her eyes shut and her mouth stuffed wide open, full of Max’s penis.

  The debauched lovers had no idea that footsteps had fallen outside of their lair. Just as Max groaned lewdly and climaxed thoroughly, the door began to ease open, unveiling to Lauren the shock of her life.

  She was way beyond speechless at the improbable sight of her proper, etiquette-conscious mother butt naked with her slimy ex-husband’s engorged dick stuffed like pork sausage down her throat. She slowly backed away, thinking, No, no, it can’t be. She simply couldn’t believe what she had just seen with her very own eyes.

  Chapter 30

  Lauren lay on her bed in the Gansevoort Hotel with a towel pressed to her head and a million horrifying, dizzying, preposterous, insane thoughts racing through her mind, ransacking her brain. How could her mother, her über proper, socialite mother, possibly be fucking anybody, let alone Lauren’s own slimy ex-husband? And how long had this sordid affair been going on? She leaned over to her side, toward the garbage can she’d left there, as another wave of nausea churned her stomach. The mere thought of them having sex was disgusting, but the visual had proven enough to literally turn her stomach.

  She’d left L.A. feeling bad that Gillian did not have a supportive family to lean on at a point when she needed one most. Since she was seeing her stateside doctors in New York for checkups while in the country, she decided to bury the hatchet and surprise her own parents by spending a couple of days with them before heading back out of the country. She had decided to reestablish her relationship with her mom, but on her own terms. Lauren had no idea that she’d be the one in for the big surprise. She remembered being young and not being able to even imagine her mother having sex at all, even with her father, so the notion of her carrying on a torrid, salacious affair with Max, in her own marital bed, was completely unfathomable.

  “We are so good together,” she’d heard her mother say. Her speech had been a little slurred; Lauren wasn’t sure if it was from physical overexertion, oral lubricant, or the two bottles of Champagne she’d seen littering the bedside table. As outlandish as this was, on one level it made picture-perfect sense. When she and Max were married, and Mildred was all up in the middle of their business about having a baby, she recalled cynically wondering why her mother didn’t just fuck Max for her and get it over with. She’d mused that if she did, her mother would probably get pregnant and happily give birth to her own grandchild. The thought was in jest; little did she know just how close to the truth it was.

  “We’ve always been good together. Since that day eight years ago when I found you stranded on the side of the road,” Max said, in that smarmy tone he used when he was being charming to get his way. Though it was a wasted effort today since it looked as though he was getting exactly what he wanted, no questions asked.

  Lauren’s knees nearly buckled when she heard his statement. Her mother and Max had been having an affair for eight years! Before she had even met him. Their whole relationship and marriage—which Mildred pushed—was nothing more than a sick, elaborate ruse so that they could keep fucking without drawing suspicion. Lauren had leaned back against the wall; she was so dizzy that she’d nearly dropped her iPhone and the bouquet of roses she’d brought as a peace offering to her mother, whose voice interrupted her thoughts.

  “Who else are you good with these days, now that you’re hanging out in Atlanta where I can’t keep my eyes on you?”

  Lauren could hear a whisper of jealousy, along with the effects of the alcohol, in her mother’s voice.

  “What makes you think I’m with anybody else? You know how I feel about you.”

  “Because I know you,” Mildred retorted sharply. “Besides, remember Paulette and that mess I had to clean up?”

  “What do you mean you cleaned up?” Max asked. “As I recall, we both took care of that problem.”

  “You know what I mean,” Mildred said. “If it weren’t for my influence with the attorney general you surely would have been arrested for her murder.”

  “Probably so. But we couldn’t have me going to jail, now, could we?” A scintilla of threat laced his tone.

  Lauren could hear the bed linen rustle.

  “Maybe not for murder, that wouldn’t be good, but maybe I should have pressed charges when you and that little slut-niece of mine messed with the will,” she teased.

  “I told you I didn’t know that Priscilla’s signature was forged,” he insisted. Paulette and Max, who was then the family attorney, had conspired, after her grandmother Priscilla’s death, to forge the will to make sure that Paulette was at least redeemed financially after years of being the poor relation. At first Max was reluctant, but by the time Paulette held up the stick, by reminding him that she might slip and reveal their affair, and then dangled the carrot, that she’d share a percent with him, it was all but done.

  “Who do you think you’re fooling?”

  “I don’t know what the problem is; you got the money back when Paulette was killed.”

  “Yes, I did,” she said, suddenly sounding very sober. “Yes, I did.”

  A dark chill coursed through Lauren’s veins as she recalled the callous way in which the two lovers discussed the cold-blooded murder of an ex-lover and niece. Lauren’s concerns about her mother now ran far deeper than who she was fucking, to the much more insidious question of whether she was capable of murder. If asked the same question only a day before, Lauren would have said unequivocally no, but that was before catching her mother in the middle of a bacchanalian fuck-fest with her own son-in-law and her daughter’s ex-husband.

  Chapter 31

  The next day, Mildred was as content as a fat cat with a belly full of nice warm cream. Nathan was still out of town and Max was still in town, which meant she’d have a few more days to enjoy his many skills.

  She was sprawled out on her chaise with her morning tray of Illy French-pressed coffee, freshly squeezed orange juice, a bagel with lox and cream cheese, along with a bowl of fruit. To her left sat the New York Times, the Post, and her MacBook Air laptop. Life was good, and getting better by the day.

  Checking her e-mail, she opened a link sent by one of her friends entitled “More nude photos of Gillian Tillman-Russell.” She could not say that she felt sorry for the girl; after all, she always had been such an uppity little bitch, which Mildred could never understand, given the fact that she had no pedigree whatsoever. Her mother was a gold-digging tramp and her father, we all now knew, was a backwoods country bumpkin.

  She took a sip of her coffee and clicked on one of the images, settling in for a few minutes of entertainment. Ummm, so, Gillian was quite the busy girl. These photos showed her actually having sex with a man who certainly was not that little imp Brandon Russell. The mystery man’s face was never shown, but being the connoisseur she was she could nonetheless see that he was a fine specimen. He seemed to be quite tall with a light caramel complexion, a nice body, and a rather distinctive mole on his hip… ?

  She looked closer, zooming in on one of the shots and realized that she had seen that mole before, up close and personal, just yesterday! “That sneaky, cheating motherfucker!” she spewed, not realizing the accuracy of her unintended double entendre.

  “Madam, is everything okay?” Hearing the commotion, James appeared at her side ready to handle any impending crisis.

  “Go away, James,” she commanded. Where was the inept little man when she really needed him, she thought, bitterly. She had to take her rage out on someone and he was the only person handy.

  He tucked his tail and slinked backward out of the room.

  That no good, slimy little fuck! she fumed. Who the hell hadn’t he fucked? By her count alone she talli
ed her daughter, her niece, herself, and now her daughter’s best friend, the double-crossing little bitch.

  While Lauren had practically exiled her—for what she didn’t know—Mildred did know that her daughter had embraced Gillian as her surrogate family. Just wait until she told Lauren that her Miss Goody Two-Shoes friend was fucking her husband. That should do it.

  But wait, how could she tell Lauren that the naked, faceless man in the photograph was Max, without admitting that she’d fucked him herself? Her devious and nimble mind got to work and soon came up with a solution to her sticky little problem. She’d say that she recalled seeing Max in Speedos in Martha’s Vineyard and noticed the mole. Then, surely, Lauren would see the similarities since in theory she should know her ex-husband’s body better than Mildred did. Mildred only needed to plant the poisonous seed in Lauren’s head, and then sit back and watch it grow.

  Now that she had a plan, she felt better. She reached for the phone and dialed Lauren’s international cell phone number, hoping that she’d pick up and not be forced to leave yet another voice mail message. This information needed to be imparted in conversation, not via voice mail. To her surprise, on the third ring Lauren did pick up.

  “Hello?” She sounded as if she was right next door, rather than who knew where in the world.

  “Hi, darling, it’s your mother.” Mildred had summoned a warm, loving tone with which to deliver her verbal blows. “How are you? In fact, where are you?”

  There was a knock at her bedroom door. Annoyed, she said, “Just a minute, sweetie.” She covered the receiver and shouted, “What do you want, James?”

  “It’s me, mother,” Lauren answered, as she walked into the room and snapped her cell phone shut.

  Mildred’s eyes lit up in surprise. She had no idea that Lauren was even on the continent, let alone in Westchester, New York! She hopped out of the chaise and ran over to hug her daughter, whom she hadn’t seen in many months. When she hugged Lauren she noticed that Lauren didn’t quite hug her back. Oh well, she still had a little attitude, but that would end when Mildred told her what a traitor her best friend was. Then Lauren would once again cling to her for advice, rather than that devious little cunt Gillian.

  She stood away from Lauren still holding her shoulders appraisingly “It’s so good to see you, and you look great!” And she did, Mildred thought. Aside from the fact that she was glowing and looked radiantly tanned, there was something more mature about her. Obviously running around the world with that bohemian artist agreed with her, or more likely it was the sex.

  “Thanks, Mother.”

  “Please, have a seat,” Mildred said, gesturing to two chairs that sat nestled in the bay window of her apartment-sized bedroom. “This is such a pleasant surprise. So, tell me, what brings you to the States and here? And why didn’t you call me? I would have had your room ready.”

  “I won’t be staying long,” Lauren said. “I’m on the way from L.A. back to South Africa.”

  “L.A.? Visiting Gillian?” Here was her opening, Mildred thought.

  “Yes, she’s going through a bad time, as you probably know.”

  “Yes, I do,” Mildred answered, adopting a very concerned demeanor. “In fact, I was just sent a link this morning with more of those horrible nude photos. As I was looking at them, a mole on the man’s left hip caught my eye, and, I know this is going to sound crazy, but I flashed on an image of Max at Martha’s Vineyard one summer wearing those little Speedo swim trunks, and he had the exact same heart-shaped mole.” She hopped up and grabbed her laptop to show the evidence to Lauren.

  After looking at the picture, Lauren’s mouth hung open in shock. The man’s body did in fact look like Max’s.

  Misreading her reaction, Mildred leaned over and held Lauren’s hand and said, “Honey, I’m so sorry. I thought this was Max.”

  “You should know,” Lauren said evenly, though her eyes cut right through the smoke and mirrors that Mildred hid behind.

  “Whatever are you talking about?”

  “Don’t play games with me, Mother,” Lauren snapped.

  “It seems to me that your dear friend Gillian is the one playing games.”

  “Playing games is one thing, but sleeping with my ex-husband—your own son-in-law—is just plain sick!”

  “If I’m not mistaken this photo clearly shows Gillian having sex with Max. Not me.”

  Lauren flipped open her cell phone and said, “And this photo clearly shows you fucking Max.” There it was, the photo that Lauren snapped through a crack in the door before sneaking out of the house the day before.

  What color there was in Mildred’s yellow complexion ebbed away. And the shock took her breath away right along with the ready recitation of lies. Though she and Max had been carrying on their affair for years now, she’d long since stopped worrying about getting caught. The euphoria of the sex had desensitized her to the reality of what she was truly doing and the huge risks that were involved. Besides the deep humiliation, ever the narcissist, she was also embarrassed because the photo was not a very flattering shot of her. Lauren definitely caught her bad side.

  “Lauren, I’m sorry, it’s not what you think… I didn’t … It was …” She really couldn’t think of anything to say and babbled just to try and control the situation.

  Lauren stood up and slung her bag over her shoulder. “Mom, cut the crap, okay? It all makes perfect sense. Now I know why you pressured me to marry that louse, so that you could have your little fuck-buddy close by and on call. You used me to satisfy your own sick perversion.”

  “Lauren, it wasn’t like that. Please try to understand.” By now, all pretenses were dropped and the great Mildred was reduced to tears as she pleaded for understanding.

  “Oh, I understand all right. I understand that you weren’t just pissed with Paulette for having an affair and a baby by my husband, you were more ticked off that she took your toy.”

  “No!”

  “I think so. I think that Paulette probably found out your little secret and to solve all three problems you and Max killed her.”

  “That’s not true! I would never do that. You have to believe me.”

  “I can’t say that I do, since, before yesterday, I wouldn’t have thought you’d fuck my husband either.” Lauren looked at Mildred with disdain, shook her head in disgust, and walked out the door.

  Chapter 32

  Two days had passed, and Reese still felt the anger and finality that resonated as Chris slammed the door shut and stormed out of her life. But those aftershocks were nothing compared to the earth-shattering, gut-wrenching blow to the gut that she felt when Dr. Young called to say that Rowe’s condition was worsening.

  After finally experiencing unconditional love, the thought of losing her precious son was like having her heart snatched right out of her chest. Love had been only an abstract term for Reese until after the car accident when Rowe stood vigilantly at her bedside at a time when she wasn’t sure there was much to live for. His unshakable love was a soothing balm that healed her heart; her body and her soul soon followed. Little Rowe held her hand and told her over and over again that he loved her, and that she was still the most beautiful mother in the world, regardless of the bloodied bandages, broken bones, and skin that was marred black and blue, nowhere near her legendary sex-kitten image. He told her that she had to come home soon so that he could show her his new computer. He’d just learned his colors and numbers and couldn’t wait to show off to his mother, whom he’d loved even when she was only a distant, glamorous figure in his life. Now the tables were turned. He was the one lying in the hospital bed clinging to life, yet there was nothing that she could do to save him.

  “Honey, you’ve got to be strong. Losing it will not help Rowe,” Gillian said. “Here, let me have Gretchen fix us some tea.” Reese had called her an hour ago sounding very upset, so Gillian had raced right over to be with her friend.

  After instructing Gretchen, Gillian led Reese to the sitting roo
m off of her master suite.

  “So, tell me what’s happened?” Gillian asked.

  “Everything has gone all wrong, and it’s all my fault.”

  “Reese, tell me exactly what’s going on,” she insisted, handing Reese a tissue.

  “Dr. Young called this morning. Rowe’s white blood count is looking pretty bad, and he has another fever.” A fresh set of tears flowed, taking her breath away.

  Gillian remained cool, realizing that she had to counter Reese’s emotions in order to be of help to her and her son. “Still no luck with a bone marrow match?”

  Reese sniffled and wiped her nose. “No.”

  “What about his real father, Reese? It’s time to stop playing games. Your son’s life is at stake here.”

  Reese took a deep breath. “I don’t know where he is,” she said, shaking her head.

  “Do you know who he is?” She had to ask that question, after all, they were talking about Reese during her hard partying days.

  Reese shot her a look. “Of course I do.”

  “So that means we can find him.”

  Reese lowered her head in defeat. “It’s not that easy.”

  “Who is he?” Gillian finally asked.

  When Reese’s only response was to wring her hands and bite her lips, Gillian stood up and grabbed her by the shoulders and gently shook her. “Are you listening to me? This could be the last chance you have to save your son. Who is his father?”

  “You are going to hate me,” Reese said in a small voice as fresh tears trailed her cheeks.

  “Reese, none of us is perfect, so don’t worry about being judged, just worry about your son.”