Trouble Down The Road. Bettye Griffin

by her surroundings. This had to be one of the most fantastic homes she’d ever been inside of, worthy of being featured in a magazine. It was tough the way the wall had been retracted, essentially making the patio and pool deck area an extension of the main house rather than a separate area. The Betancourts could actually sit in their family room and watch the sun set in the open environment. And to think that silly, useless Suzanne got to live here as mistress of the house.

      Micheline had been able to tell from the confused look on Suzanne’s face while they were all talking at the Super Bowl party that the woman was about as bright as a forty-year-old penny. But Brad Betancourt, on the other hand, was definitely Micheline’s type of man. He had money and believed in spending it to make himself and his family comfortable.

      Her in-laws had plenty of money, too, but they lived simply and encouraged her and Errol to do the same.

      Once more Micheline took in the open patio and the lush landscaping around the pool, which looked more like a pond in some exotic setting than a pool in a suburban backyard. She didn’t want to live simply; she wanted to live like this.

      It annoyed Micheline that Suzanne had it so good. She didn’t like it when anyone had it better than she did, and this situation was harder to take than normal, since Suzanne was so utterly undeserving of a prize like Brad Betancourt. If Brad was her husband, he’d never get on her case about how much money she spent, nor would he suggest she get a job. Of course, it wasn’t as if Suzanne had the qualifications to add anything to the family coffers. Ran the office, my ass, Micheline thought. Suzanne had probably been nothing more than a receptionist or file clerk.

      A lightbulb went off in her head, and a slight smile formed on her lips. If she wanted to break up this marriage, she first had to make Brad dissatisfied with his wife. She knew where to start.

      “Suzanne, did you see that?” Arlene Hall’s mouth twisted in an unbecoming manner.

      She didn’t have to turn around to know her mother referred to Gregory escorting Paige. “I saw when they came in. I didn’t know he was seeing her, did you?”

      “No. Kenya told me a few weeks ago that she and Gregory were in one of their off periods, but she didn’t say he was seeing Paige. I don’t think she knew about it until tonight.”

      “Have you seen her?” It was difficult to pick anyone out in what had become a crowd.

      “Dancing with Derrick. She’s putting up a good front, but I think she’s crushed. Can’t you do something, Suzanne?”

      She sighed. “I wish there was something I could do, Mom, but I have to be careful. Remember, Paige is Brad’s daughter.” Suzanne never thought of Paige as her stepdaughter; that would have implied a warmth to their relationship that they would never have. Instead she was simply Brad’s daughter, a nuisance she had to tolerate.

      “Regardless of that, I think she showed terrible judgment, asking him to come here with her. She knew Kenya would be here. If you ask me, she just wanted to rub it in Kenya’s face. She’s always been jealous, ever since Gregory chose Kenya over her when they were in high school.”

      “I don’t disagree with you. I’ll catch up to Kenya as soon as I can and see how she’s handling it.”

      “Good…who’s that?”

      This time Suzanne turned to see who her mother was looking at. She sighed when she saw Micheline mingling. Her back was to them, the daring cut of her dress on full display. The eyes of every man within ten feet of her lingered on her bare back. Suzanne rolled her eyes. “That’s the wife of one of Brad’s buddies from the golf club. We went to their house to watch the Super Bowl about three months ago.”

      “Does she play golf?”

      “Yes.”

      “Well, maybe you’d better learn the game yourself. That one looks like a hussy who’ll steal your man faster than you can blink. In fact, there she goes now.”

      Suzanne watched through narrowed eyes as Micheline smoothly slipped away from Errol and approached Brad. Even though other guests surrounded them, it nonetheless made her uncomfortable. Micheline was a crafty one, willing to flirt with Brad right under her husband’s nose.

      “You’d better get over there fast,” Arlene said.

      Suzanne did as she was told. Her mother had been blessed with the sharpest of instincts, and she’d taken one look at Micheline Trent and known she was trouble.

      She was just a few yards away when Micheline and Brad started to dance a two-step to an old-school song performed by the band’s female vocalist. She stopped in her tracks. She couldn’t interrupt when they were dancing; that wouldn’t look right. She wanted to be as subtle as Micheline, not come off looking like a fishwife.

      “Suzanne, want to dance?”

      She tried not to show her relief. Ernie Hickman might not be good for much, but he’d never know how he saved her ass just now. She nodded and fell into step with him, pulling back when he initially held her closer than what she felt was appropriate. His cologne was so strong she had to clear her throat to keep from coughing.

      “Hey, Brad, look who I’m dancing with,” he called out loudly.

      Suzanne cringed.

      Brad looked over and gave an amused smile. “Just don’t step on my wife’s toes,” he said. Then he turned his attentions back to Micheline.

      Suzanne wondered what they were talking about.

      “So I was hoping you might be able to put in a good word for me down at the hospital,” Micheline said to Brad as they danced. “The opening in their legal department is perfect for me.”

      “Sure. All you have to do is list my name as a reference on your application. You can list me on your résumé as well,” he said.

      “Thanks. I’ll apply online right away. I’ve enjoyed staying at home, but I’m really ready to get back to work. I feel so out of touch.”

      “I can see how you’d feel that way. But Errol will certainly miss your being a homemaker. He raves about your cooking.”

      Something in Brad’s tone hinted that he wished Suzanne had better culinary skills, and Micheline neatly filed that in the back of her mind. “Yes, I think I’ve done a fair job at being a housewife, but the last thing I want to become is one of those silly women who isn’t aware of the world beyond her front door,” Micheline continued. “You know, the type who can’t carry on a decent conversation because she hasn’t a clue about what’s going on in the world.”

      “Uh…yes.”

      “Having a career makes me a more well-rounded person,” she continued. “I’m seriously considering enrolling in law school, now that we have one in Jacksonville. I’m still young enough,” she added pointedly.

      “What type of law would you want to specialize in?”

      “Oh, I don’t know. Definitely not criminal. I’ve heard too many horror stories about disgruntled ex-cons going after their attorneys for losing their cases.” At that moment the song ended, and she felt satisfied she’d made a good impression, managing to remind him that he was married to a simpleton and that she was both intelligent and young, all in one three-minute conversation. “Thank you, Brad.”

      “You’re welcome. Let me know how you make out.”

      “I will.” With that she sauntered away, hoping Brad followed with his eyes. She also wanted to get away from that loudmouth in the gray suit who’d been dancing with Suzanne before he could trap her on the dance floor. He’d come around, introducing himself as “a good friend of Brad’s,” which she doubted. No friend of Brad’s would be so brazen as to openly stare at her body the way that man—she thought he might have said his name was Ernie—had. He practically addressed her chest rather than her face. Whenever her gaze happened to fall on him while she kept an eye on Brad, he was always