Half Empty (First Wives #2)

“Now what?” Trina asked as they stood under the eaves of the shop and managed to keep some of the rain at bay.

Across the street was an open-air bar, one where the walls were sheets of plastic and the patrons were already well ahead of Wade and Trina. “Happy hour?” he asked.

“Might as well.”

They ordered the house recommendation. Something rum infused that tasted a bit fruity for his liking. A three-piece reggae band was playing in the corner. Their music was loud enough to keep whispered conversations outside, but soft enough to talk somewhat normally inside.

“I assume this is nothing like what you sing?” Trina asked him.

“No, ma’am. But it’s nice.”

“Ma’am makes me feel old.”

He’d heard that before. “It’s not meant that way.”

“I know. I’ve heard it a lot since I moved to Texas. Which fits, since I feel like I’ve aged ten years in the past year.”

That last part was said without her looking up from her drink. Although he didn’t want to bring up her past, he couldn’t help but ask a few questions.

“Did your late husband move you to Texas?”

“No, no . . . we lived in New York.”

“The city?” She didn’t seem like a Manhattan kind of woman.

“The Hamptons.” She smiled. “Sounds snooty, but it was rather nice.”

He sipped his drink, decided he’d switch to something less sugary on the next round. “So how did Texas happen?”

He wasn’t sure at first if she was going to answer. But then she squared her shoulders as if drawing up the courage to open up.

“Oil.”

He blinked.

She squeezed her eyes closed. “I suppose now that you’ve heard my last name a few times, it’s only a matter of time before you look me up.”

“Petrov is unique and hard to miss when someone is checking your credit card information.”

She shifted, took a drink. “There’s this little oil company . . . Everson Oil.”

Wade laughed. He couldn’t help himself. “That’s not little, sweetheart.”

“Right. Well, I somehow ended up inheriting a third of the company.”

It took a lot to shock Wade, but her words did the job. He looked her over again. She wasn’t wearing anything terribly fancy. No flashy jewelry or anything else to give away her wealth. He blew out a long, slow whistle.

“I know. So, yeah. I moved to Texas. Most of the last year, I’ve been learning about the alternative fuel side of the company. Which is really interesting, if not a little ironic, considering fossil fuel is our bread and butter.”

“Do you like the work?”

She laughed. “I don’t think you can call it work. Most of the time I’m shadowing people on the management team for different divisions to learn what their functions are. It isn’t like I have any real job, or boss. When I said I was going to Italy for an extended vacation, there wasn’t one person who suggested I was needed.”

“Oh.”

“They’re probably happy I’m not hovering over them.”

“So it’s not fulfilling.”

“I think it could be. I’m on the board, and my vote actually counts, so I felt the need to learn as much as I can. I’ll continue to when I get back.”

He didn’t see her at a desk. “Why bother, if you don’t like it?”

She took another drink, sat back in her chair. “What else am I going to do all day? It isn’t like I can go back to my old life. I’ll never work as a flight attendant again, or any service job. I don’t need to work for money . . . what does that leave?”

“Philanthropy.”

“Right, and the ambassador of goodwill to the less fortunate. But I’m nobody. People just want the check, they don’t want me cheering them on to fulfill their dreams. Besides, I’m too young for long days on the golf course or the opera house, where philanthropic individuals congregate and network.”

He opened his mouth, only to have her cut him off.

“Not to mention the fact that because I’m young, the wives of the men who play in the same taxable income that I have automatically assume I’m gunning for their husbands.”

“That can’t be true.”

Trina gave him that you’ve got to be kidding look again. “I have attended several events since moving to Texas. Fundraisers for kids, causes for cancer, Everson Oil holiday parties where whole pigs are roasting on an open fire for what seems like days. Every single one of them is bursting with men in their sixties and their wives, who look twenty years younger. Not one time was I left beside a married man to have a conversation about anything without someone dodging in and taking that person away. Even if I wanted to impart some of my wisdom learned while watching the staff at Everson, I’ve never had the chance.”

She paused.

Wade opened his mouth.

Trina kept going. “On the occasion a single man, old or young, approached me . . . it was never to talk about the company, or the cause. It was only to see if it had been long enough since Fedor’s death for me to consider dating.”

Fedor? Her late husband’s name was Fedor?

“You’re a beautiful woman.”

“With a brain,” she said, pointing to her head.

He made a rolling motion with his finger. “Can we go back . . . Fedor? That’s a very unusual name.”

“His father is Russian. Alice Everson was his mother. American.”

Something clicked in the back of his head. “This was in the news.”

The waiter walked by and Trina flagged him down. “Can we have a menu?”

“Sure.”

“Mother and son died close together,” Wade remembered out loud.

“Yeah. It was not a fun time.”

“I suppose escaping to Venice was a good plan for the anniversary of it all.”

She tilted her drink in the air in his direction. “See, that’s what I thought.”

Her eyes lost focus again. There was so much going on inside her head, Wade could practically hear the wheels turning.

“Anyway . . . now I need to figure out what to do. That’s proven harder than it would seem.”

“Because you planned your life with someone who is no longer here.”

Her eyes snapped to his, and he wondered if he got that wrong.

“Yeah, I guess.” Trina looked away. “Tell me about you.”

The change of the subject told him that more talk of her late husband was off the table.

“What do you want to know?”

Trina finally looked at him again, her eyes less guarded. “How has fame and fortune changed your life?”

The waiter stopped by, took their order, and left again.

“It’s changed everything. Even my friends, I’m sorry to say.”

“How is that?”

“Money changes how people look at you. You know that.”

“I do.”

The memory of Drew filled his thoughts. “Jealousy is often followed by his ugly uncle, Envy. When that happens, things change. Much as you want your friends to come along for the ride, they often don’t.”

“Chances are they weren’t that good of friends, then.”

“Maybe. Real friends are hard to find in my world. Some of the people I relate to the most are other singers, some as successful or more so. They get it.”

“So celebrities hanging out with other celebrities happens because no one else understands?”

“You could say that. Have you ever had the paparazzi outside your hotel or home?”

She nodded. “Actually, yes.”

That was not the answer he was expecting. “Really?”

“They called me the black widow.”

Wade lost his humor. “They did not!”

“You’re familiar with the media. You know how they are.”

He’d been called many things, but none terribly hateful. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that, darlin’.”

“It’s okay. I have a group of really wonderful friends now.”

“The ones you’re avoiding.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Aren’t we supposed to be talking about you? Tell me about your mother.”

His head fell back as he laughed. “Now you’re a therapist.”

She laughed along with him. “Or you can tell me about your last real girlfriend.”

Hand on his heart, he said, “My mother is the best woman in the world.”

Trina roared with laughter. “Boundaries are set. Okay . . .”





Chapter Seven

The sound of fists hitting the door met the pounding in Trina’s brain. She cracked one eye open and protested the sunlight blaring through the hotel window.