Jack with a Twist by Brenda Janowitz

Author:Brenda Janowitz [Janowitz, Brenda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2008-07-07T04:00:00+00:00

17

Back when we were a loving, newly engaged couple who were merely living in sin and not fighting in both the courtroom and the bedroom, Jack and I had our morning routine down pat. I’d wake up first at 7:15 a.m., and hop in the shower while Jack snoozed the alarm until I was done in the bathroom. When I got out of the shower, I’d throw my hair into a towel, and get the coffee ready (that brewed every morning at 7:20 a.m., thanks to the kick-ass coffeemaker with timer settings that Jack’s cousins Judy and David bought for us for an engagement gift) while Jack showered. Then, we’d read the paper and eat breakfast together while my hair dried and I stared at Jack lovingly.

Since the Monique litigation began, things have not exactly been the same. Especially since the incident at the Pierre. Now, I sleep until 7:30 a.m. (those fifteen minutes make all the difference when you’ve worked past midnight…) and Jack takes the New York Post with him to work since I’ve usually grabbed The New York Times on my way out while he’s still in the shower.

Today, as I’m about to run out of the apartment with the Times firmly tucked under my arm, the phone rings. I briefly get that panicked feeling you get when someone calls you and wakes you up in the middle of the night. Why is someone calling here at eight-thirty in the morning? I look at the caller ID and see that it’s Vanessa.

“Whatever you do, do not look at the paper,” Vanessa says.

“Is something wrong?” I ask, sitting back down at our breakfast bar. I look at the clock and see that it’s 8:31 a.m. Jack will be out of the shower any minute.

“No, nothing’s wrong,” Vanessa says, trying to sound nonchalant, “just don’t look at the New York Post.”

If I have any chance of making it out of the apartment before Jack gets out of the shower so that I can avoid him like the coward that I am, I’ve really got to leave now.

“What’s in the Post?” I ask, eyeing the paper that’s on my kitchen counter. It’s still wrapped in a roll, secured by a rubber band, and I wonder if I take the rubber band off, if I’ll be able to get it back on so as to make it look like I haven’t touched it.

“You are definitely not on the cover of the Post,” Vanessa says, “so do not look at it.”

Is this how she’s trying to get me to not check out the Post? Telling me not to look at it? Does she know nothing about reverse psychology? This woman is clearly not ready for children.

As I eye the newspaper, all I can think is: this is about Monique. This is all about Monique and Jean Luc. No doubt, my videographer has been tailing Jack and me, going through our garbage nightly, and by now knows all the sordid details of the dissolution of partnership.

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