Marital Bitch (Men with Badges)

Chapter EIGHTEEN

(Colleen)

… as cheesy porn music starts to play.

BRAD STALKS INTO the room. He is absolutely livid. Oh well, I’m not real pleased with him, either. “What the f*ck is your problem?” He growls, making his way to the sink. He grabs the nearest hand towel and wets it.

“I’m mortified, you a*shole. What was this, all a ploy to embarrass me?” His scowl turns to a frown.

“No,” he whispers. “I’m sorry. I asked Vicky to stop by earlier when I was pissed. I didn’t know you were going to maul me when you got home.” I don’t miss the smile forming on his lips. Brad likes to be mauled. I’m saving this for later, you know, when I don’t want his nuts on a stick.

“I know. But this is embarrassing,” I mutter. My anger is waning. Part of me wants to be angry with him; the other part of me wants to drag him back upstairs. I feel really bipolar right now.

“Colleen,” he says, moving to my side. “This was all a ploy to make you jealous, pretty girl. I know how possessive you get.” He chuckles. I scoff. I’m not that stupid. I know that man and the amazing Mac have been around, and if he thinks he’s going to convince me that bringing Veronica here was for the benefit of our… relationship… he can just kiss my somewhat perky ass.

“You’re a big, stupid liar!” I snap and march through the living room and up the stairs into our bedroom. Vicky is still in her spot on the couch. Sticky slut. I slam the door when I get to our room. Because, you know, I’m mature like that. Brad brings out the worst in me, he always has.

I sit on the bed and sulk for a while. I can hear Sir Moron down there apologizing to Sticky Slut. He doesn’t take long sending her off. I really don’t want to see him right now, so I quickly gather a change of clothes and rush to the bathroom down the hall. Right now I wish we had more than one bathroom so he won’t be tempted to come in for any reason.

I hop in the shower and turn the water on hot. I don’t know what I’m trying to wash away: the hurt or the humiliation. I had stupidly believed that sex would change things between us. Just as I’m getting comfortable under the spray, the bathroom door swings open. I peek around the shower curtain to see Brad’s chest heaving.

“You can’t just go around being a bitch to whomever you want!” he yells.

“Oh yeah? Watch me!” I laugh and stick my tongue out. Slowly, he walks into the bathroom and rips off his pajama pants. My rueful laugh turns to a horrified squeak. If he thinks he’s getting in this shower after the humiliation I just suffered he’s damned mistaken.

“Brad!” I warn, shifting my weight from my left foot to my right. “Do not even think about it.” His eyes twinkle and I know I’m completely screwed. Okay, maybe not completely screwed yet, but by the grace of God, I’m about to be. Oh, Mac!

“You know you want me, baby” he coos, stroking himself. Mac grows instantly. Oh no you don’t!

“After that spectacle?” I ask, annoyed. “Not even you’re that good, pretty boy.” He takes a few more steps forward. If I don’t do something soon he’s going to be in the shower with me. I lean down and grab the first thing I get my hand on—a can of my shaving cream—and throw it at him. He lets go of Mac and blocks himself as best he can. The can bounces off of his upper thigh.

“What the f*ck!” he shouts. “Woman, you are unbalanced!” He takes a few more steps toward me and I throw the shampoo bottle, but it doesn’t deter him. With every step he takes I throw one more item at him; still he won’t stop. Finally, he steps into the shower. I narrow my eyes at him and reach out to push him away but he catches my hand first and wraps it around Mac who throbs beneath my touch; and I’m a goner.

SUNDAY MORNING I ran out of the house before Brad even woke up. I called Lindsay and asked her if she wanted to go to the museum with me. Lindsay is a museum tramp. Me, I’d rather go shopping, but whatever. It was a convenient distraction from the horny bastard I left at home. The only real issue I’d had on Sunday was the never-ending questions about why I was avoiding Brad. I couldn’t really answer them without someone winning that stupid bet; of which Brad and I have vowed not to tell anybody. Let them sit and wonder.

Monday morning has come quickly, thank God. I just don’t know how much more time I can spend with Brad, alone, in this house. It seems the angrier I am with him, the more I want to have sex with him; and he sure is excellent at pissing me off.

I sip my coffee while I stand at the kitchen counter. I have my purse and brief case beside me, all ready to go. Brad isn’t due into the station until late morning, so when he walks downstairs butt naked, I’m a little surprised.

“Mornin’ pretty girl,” Brad mumbles. He slides up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my shoulder. I lean my head back and place my coffee mug to his lips. He slips it carefully and smacks his lips. I smile up at him over my shoulder. We’ve been getting along since Sunday evening. Well, when we’re having sex we get along; so we’ve been having a lot of sex. As Brad says “we finally found a way to get along.” So now we’re all about “getting along.”

“Where’s your laptop?” Brad asks as he nuzzles my neck. I curl my face into him and giggle.

“It’s in my briefcase,” I laugh. Brad tenses behind me.

“Can you leave it here today?” he asks. I turn to face him. My smile falls when I see the look on his face. He’s nervous.

“I can’t,” I say, my brow furrowing. “Why?” I ask.

“I sort of broke mine last week,” he says. He’s acting strange. I figure maybe he wants to borrow it for a little self-loving before work. Before all the sex I’d be grossed out. Now, I’d leave it with him if I didn’t have it take it to court with me today. I set down my coffee mug and grab my purse and briefcase.

“Colleen!” he shouts. I turn to look at him.

“Yeah?” I ask.

“You can’t take the laptop with you today! You have to leave it here!” I step away from him and walk quickly towards the front door.

“You are acting very weird, pretty boy,” I laugh and rush out of the house without looking back.

The drive to the office is quick, there is very little traffic. It’s not the short commute that I enjoyed to and from my condo, but it’s not bad; and I have to admit that I kind of like being back in the old neighborhood. It reminds me of every good thing I’d forgotten in my time spent downtown. People know me in Southie, some of them even love me. I came up on these streets, left my mark, and for a number of reasons that I can’t remember right now, I ran away as fast as I could.

Once in the office, I avoid looking anyone in the eye. I don’t feel nearly as comfortable here as I used to and it seems as though I’m not as welcome as I used to be. If I think too long on it all, I might feel like I’m regressing into who I used to be. Used to. It seems that everything has changed as a result of my marrying Brad. Had I known this, I don’t know if I would have married him back in Vegas. Realizing I’m in love with him is just a strange byproduct of our marriage, though I have a hard time truly regretting it.

An hour after arriving in the office and my head is spinning. I still haven’t had time to turn my laptop on much less do a last minute review of my notes. Thomas is all smiles this morning and I suspect it’s because I’m the idiot who signed that stupid form regarding my conduct. I have half a mind to shove that conduct form up The Toad’s ass.

“You ready to go, Colleen?” Thomas pops his head into my office. I smile politely up at him and nod.

“Yes,” I say, “and you?” Thomas nods and gestures me to follow him. I grab my briefcase and we leave the building for the courthouse.

“And how is married life, Mrs. Patrick?” Thomas asks. I note the hint of faux interest in his voice. The mask he wears on his face is one of kindness, but I know better.

“I’m loving it,” I smile genuinely up at him. “How are Lisa and the kids?” I ask. Thomas tenses up. He doesn’t like to discuss his wife and children with me. It seems to put a damper on his attempts to get into my pants. Disgusting fool.

“Fine,” he clears his throat and turns his attention elsewhere. It seems that catch-up time is through.

We get into the mediator’s office in the courthouse and settle in. I pull out my laptop and turn it on. It’s just me and Thomas in here right now so I have a few minutes to re-group before the Judge, the mediator, opposing counsel, and our clients come in. I just hope it’s enough time to get everything started up.

I sit down just as the computer starts up. I stretch my legs out underneath the large conference table. With my hands held onto the side of the table and my legs stretched out, I hear moaning. My eyes shoot up to Thomas who is staring at me quizzically. I don’t know where it’s coming from, so I really wish he’d stop staring at me. The laptop screen goes black and cheesy porn music starts to play. My mouth drops open as a cheesy porn movie plays on my laptop screen. In a moment of unforgettable horror, my hands push off from the table but the wheels to my chair get caught on something below. I screech as I fly backwards, head first to the floor.

Thomas rushes around the table and closes the laptop screen but the porn music continues to play. Me, with my heels high in the air and my skirt inching its way upwards, I scramble from my position on the floor to stand; but it’s no use. Thomas is standing over me, doing everything in his power to stop my laptop’s shenanigans, while effectively blocking any means of me righting myself. Finally, I give up and kick him a little on my way to standing.

“What the hell is this, Colleen? Thomas hisses. Tears flood my eyes and I shake my head.

“I…” I whisper-sob, “I don’t know!” I reach over to open the laptop screen and am greeted by what can only be described as some kind of man-on-man free-for-all. “Ew!” I yell as I fumble around to pull the battery out. Just as I have my hand on the battery pack, the Judge walks in.

“Counsel,” he says sternly, “what in God’s name is going on in here?” He is beat red and in no mood for a half-assed explanation set to cheesy porn music. My heart beats in my chest so hard that I worry it might jump out. Finally, I regain my senses and yank the battery out and the music finally stops. I hear the Judge railing on us in the background but all I can make out are the words “embarrassment”, “professionalism”, “lawsuit”, and “contempt.” All I can think is “please, God, don’t let me get fired or disbarred for this.”

Thomas dismisses me from the room and allows me to clean up in the bathroom down the corridor. He is clear to make sure I return because “despite [my] inability to remember my position as an officer of the law, a position which is to be taken seriously,” he still needs me in there today and he doesn’t have time to replace me as co-chair. I can’t really blame him because I wouldn’t want to be around me right now, either. I know for certain that the porn music was intended to be some kind of joke, but as always, it didn’t turn out quite so funny.

In the bathroom, I clean myself up and check my cell phone. I have two missed phone calls and three missed text messages from Brad. “Hey pretty girl. Please do not open your laptop today. I’m not kidding. Adam installed this porn virus on it as a joke. Please call me back.”

Oh.

Oh.

He thinks he’s funny. That’s okay. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Game on, Mr. Patrick.