Diamond Girl Read online

  Diamond Girl

  Author: Andrea Smith

  Edited By: Brenda Wright

  Cover Design: SueBee

  4/30/2013

  MEATBALL TASTER PUBLISHING

  Text copyright © 2013 by Andrea Smith. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under The U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior express, written consent of the author.

  ISBN: 978-0-578-12259-5

  Some of the content in this book is loosely based upon actual events which occurred in Indianapolis and Fort Wayne Indiana back in the summer of 2012. The characters, however, are fictional; any resemblance to actual persons or events, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  This book is intended for adult readers only.

  Acknowledgments

  This book is dedicated to all of my friends and family for their continued support and encouragement. A very special shout-out to my good buddy, Rob Delsman, who gave me the name 'Slate' for this book and who has inspired me in so many ways. . .

  To Mona and David - Thanks for being my loyal readers in Arizona and spreading the word!

  A big 'thanks' to my Goodreads' family for their honest feedback and support; and for helping me spread the word! Thanks SueBee, Brenda, JoJo, Wendy, Vika, Amber, Keesha, Jane, Sara, Sarah, Shamika, Georgia, Liz, Barb, Laura, Lauren, Jamie, Lisa, Donna, Amy, JoAnn, Debra, Annie, Erin, Alicia, Roxy, Fifi, Anna, Carla, Julie, Alexandria, Missy, Shellie, Janett, Elaine, Emily, Bonnie, Cori, Dhenize, Akanksha, Rebecca, Leslie, Tiffany, Tara, Marilyn, Jill, Shayna, Denise, Rachel, Dawn, Kim, Shakima, Melissa, Courtney, Danielle, Christine, Angela, Julianna, Emma, Jaideep, Jessica, Tina, Samantha, Cristina, Mary, Vikki, Kate, Boomie, Traci, Erica, Jennifer, Benita, Carmen, Lee, Sonia, Ninore, Betsy, Mandy, April, Vel, Brittany, Jenn, Rachel, AnneOK, Amanda, Tam, Marion, Michelle, Sandy, Shelly B., Alicia, Susan, Sonia, Robin, Kathy, Carrie, Lindsay, Julie, Carol and any others I may have missed!

  Thanks Jill, Becky, Brenda and Susanne for chapter by chapter feedback!

  I would also like to acknowledge my former colleagues at 'You Know Where' - I love that you continue to stay in touch, read my books, and wish me well!

  Table of Contents

  Diamond Girl

  Acknowledgments

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 38

  CHAPTER 39

  CHAPTER 40

  CHAPTER 41

  CHAPTER 42

  CHAPTER 43

  CHAPTER 44

  CHAPTER 45

  CHAPTER 46

  CHAPTER 47

  CHAPTER 48

  CHAPTER 49

  CHAPTER 50

  CHAPTER 51

  CHAPTER 52

  CHAPTER 53

  CHAPTER 54

  CHAPTER 55

  CHAPTER 56

  CHAPTER 57

  Epilogue

  CHAPTER 1

  I pulled the meatloaf out of the oven, slamming the oven door shut with my left thigh as my pot-holdered hands set the finished entrée on top of the counter. I glanced quickly at the clock on the stove. It was 6:45 p.m. I had set the table with our good china and silverware; meatloaf was Jack’s favorite, along with cheesy potatoes. I had made his favorite dessert as well; Boston Crème Pie. I just needed to make a quick trip to the bathroom to check my hair and make-up.

  This was the first dinner Jack and I were having together since Lindsey had left for college two days earlier. He had promised that he would be home on time after work. He had been rolling in past 9 p.m. off and on over the past eighteen months. I had finally told him enough was enough.

  Jack had explained that with his promotion to the V.P. of Marketing for the East Coast Region, it would require long hours. I got that. I had no clue that it would entail approximately months on end without sex though! That part was getting to be a real drag. Jack blamed his workload, jet lag and general exhaustion for his lack of sexual appetite. I knew there was more to it than that.

  I studied myself in the bathroom mirror. I had to admit it. At thirty-five years old I was officially a ‘frumpy housewife.’ I had pulled my light brown hair up on top of my head with a clip. F-R-U-M-P-Y! Thankfully, I had put on a clean pair of jeans and a sweater. Jack was used to seeing me in sweats and a tee shirt. My jeans were noticeably tighter than when I wore them last. I was trying to remember exactly when that had been.

  I reached into my cosmetic bag to get my compact out to dab a bit more blush onto my cheeks. I saw my fingers reflected in the vanity mirror. My nails were chewed down below the cuticle. God, that was gross! Whatever had happened to the beautifully manicured nails that I had as a newlywed?

  I knew the answer to that question before it had left my mind. The baby had followed the wedding ceremony, in short order. There were diapers, spit-up, formula, teething, cleaning, and laundry; cooking, shopping and trying to keep my head above water with Jack. He was a very persnickety man. He liked order; he liked perfection; I didn’t fit into either category.

  I think Jack had been extremely patient with me over the years because of the great partnership relationship he had with my father.

  When I had discovered that I was pregnant at sixteen, I had been terrified of telling my folks. I was the only child and I had understood through my upbringing there were certain expectations. Those expectations had not included my brief, sexual interlude with Jack Dennison. Jack was two years older than me in high school. He was an all-around athlete. He played varsity football and was currently the star point guard for the Northwood High Raven’s basketball team. I had never thought he would have given me a second look. He was gorgeous and sexy, even in high school. There wasn’t a girl at our school that hadn’t drooled over him at some point in time.

  The truth was; he hadn’t really given me a second look that night. It was more like we were all at the same ‘after-game’ party and he was drunk. He had been very attentive to me at the party. I was simply an infatuated sophomore girl on the cheer squad enamored with him like all of the others. I felt ‘honored’ when he wanted to slip upstairs to be alone with me. We had talked and then started making out; I had no clue that the rest was going to happen.

  I remember creeping back into my parent’s home the next morning. I had stayed the night with my best friend, Brenda. My mother had been up putting the coffee on when she saw me quietly coming in at a little after 7 a.m.

  “Samantha? Why are you home so early?” she had asked, eyeing my somewhat disheveled appearance. I was still in my cheerleading uniform.

  “Oh, I couldn’t sleep at Brenda’s, Mom. Kerry had the flu and was puking all night. I had to get out of there, you know?”

 
; “Now, Sam,” she had said, giving me the ‘ole ‘hairy eyeball,’ “Are you sure that Kerry had the flu or were you girls drinking beer? I know what went on when I was in high school.”

  “Mom, I swear, as far as I could tell, none of us girls drank any beer or alcohol of any kind.”

  (That was the truth! Just had unprotected sex . . .)

  “Well, alright then,” she had replied, shrugging, “Go get out of that uniform and into your pj’s. You need more sleep than what you probably got over at Brenda’s house. Don’t wake Daddy.”

  “Okay, Mom,” I had said, hugging her and giving her a kiss on the cheek. “I promise not to wake Daddy.” I knew that she wouldn’t wake Daddy, either. I was his princess. Mom wouldn’t do anything to banish me from his kingdom.

  I had collapsed into my own bed that morning not realizing for an instant the implications of what had happened the previous night. The strange thing was that I couldn’t recall wanting Jack to do the things that he had done to me. I was positive that I had heard myself telling him ‘no’ beneath his lips that were crushing mine with passion and drunken horniness.

  Afterwards, as I had tried to sit up on the bed, my mascara streaming down my cheeks, searching for my ripped panties, I realized that I hadn’t wanted what happened to happen at all. He was simply drunk and incoherent at the time. He seemed to be used to getting his way with girls. I was sure he generally met with no resistance.

  I wasn’t even certain he was aware of what had transpired. I couldn’t blame him for something he had done while under the influence. Afterwards, he had simply told me that I was a ‘great fuck’ and passed out next to me on the random bed where we had done the dirty deed.

  Six weeks later I knew that something was amiss.

  I had naturally done what any sixteen year-old girl would have done when faced with such a dilemma: I had confided to my best friend, Brenda.

  “Holy crap, Samantha, why didn’t you tell me what happened that night? Aren’t we supposed to be best friends?”

  “Can you please be mad at me about that later, Bren? Right now I am freaking out; I needed to tell someone. I don’t think Jack even remembers.”

  “Well first of all, you need to make sure you are really pregnant. Let’s stop by Whitaker's Drug Store after school and pick up one of those testing kits.”

  “I can’t stop there,” I had whined. “What if Mr. Whitaker is there? He knows my dad!”

  “Samantha,” Brenda had said in her ‘matter-of-fact voice’, “Everyone knows your dad. There is no getting around that.”

  She was right. My father was the CEO of Banion Pharmaceuticals, one of the largest employers in town. His father had founded the company fifty years prior. Like Brenda, and most everyone else at our school, I had been born and raised in Indianapolis, Indiana. My father sat on the board of trustees for two local banks and the Chamber of Commerce. He had recognition and power in the community.

  “Okay,” she had acquiesced, “I will go get it and meet you at your house later.”

  'Later' had turned out to the following morning before school. I had called Brenda telling her that my father had gotten home from work earlier than usual; he was taking Mom and me out for steaks at The Elite Cafe downtown. It was his favorite restaurant. He insisted on taking us there at least once a month. Mom was simply tickled that he had gotten home early for once.

  I had driven my car over to pick Brenda up for school as I had done every morning since getting my driver’s license.

  I had held my pee as she had instructed me to do in order to get the most accurate reading. I had covered my mouth to stifle my screams as the result came through loud and clear: Knocked up.

  (Holy shit! My father was going to kill me!)

  My trip down ‘Memory Lane’ was interrupted when I heard the sound of our garage door opening. Jack was home. I hurried to put the finishing touches on dinner.

  I heard him talking as he came in through the garage to the family room. Our house had two stories with a loft from the second floor. Our master suite was the loft. It was only two years old. I hadn’t finished decorating it yet. Jack had been on me about that, telling me I procrastinated far too much; reminding me that most women would love to furnish and decorate such a gorgeous house with no worries about money or the confines of a budget.

  I figured he was probably on his cell phone talking work on his way up until I realized the conversation was live. I heard a female voice laugh coyly at something he must have said.

  (Who the hell is with him?)

  “Sammie?” he called out from the main hallway.

  “I’m in the kitchen, Jack.”

  He entered the kitchen, setting his briefcase inside the door. A tall but petite, well-manicured woman was following behind him. She had perfect features; perfect make-up and was dressed in a dark grey business suit that was tailored to accent her slim, yet shapely figure. Her long, blonde hair flowed well past her shoulders. She had exquisite eyes; they were a mixture of greenish blue, almost a deep grey color to match her business suit.

  “Sammie,” he repeated, “I want you to meet Susanne Reynard, my new administrative assistant at the office.”

  (Oh fucking great.)

  “It’s Samantha,” I replied, pasting what I hoped was a sincere-looking smile on my face as I held out my hand to clasp hers, “Very pleased to meet you, Susanne.”

  She afforded me a smile, showing perfectly even, white teeth. Naturally, her nails were perfectly manicured and matched the shade of lipstick she was wearing on her full, pouty lips.

  “Samantha,” she purred, “It’s such a pleasure meeting you as well. Your husband told me what a beautiful home you have here. He wasn’t exaggerating.”

  “Yes,” he remarked, “If only I could get Sammie to finish furnishing it. Hey, perhaps Susanne could help with some ideas on what the house needs to bring it all together. She did an awesome job on ordered.”

  “Oh Mr. Dennison,” she gushed, almost blushing, “I just narrowed the choices down. You made the ultimate selection. Your husband has great taste, too.”

  “Now - Susanne,” Jack admonished with a smile, “None of this ‘Mr. Dennison’ stuff. It’s Jack.”

  “Yes, Jack,” she replied obediently, “I keep forgetting.”

  I felt like a voyeur watching their interaction. I remained clueless as to why she was even here. I was hoping my husband was going to clue me in.

  “Sammie,” he said, as if sensing my curiosity. “I invited Susanne to dinner. We have some work to finish up and I thought we might as well work here in my office. I’m sorry I didn’t call you earlier, babe.”

  “Oh - it’s no problem at all,” I lied. “I’ll just set another place.”

  “Can I help?” Susanne asked.

  “Everything’s done,” I replied, “All that is left is to take our places.”

  Dinner was strained. I felt like an intruder on both the small talk and office talk between Jack and Susanne. She looked to be no more than mid-thirties if that. She certainly seemed to hang on Jack’s every word. I tuned them out resuming my jog down ‘Memory Lane.’

  I thought back to the ugly scene that had taken placed when I had informed my parents that I was pregnant.

  “I didn’t even know you were dating anyone,” my father had blurted out in pure confusion. “Why haven’t we met the boy?”

  My mother had been less vocal, simply wringing her hands like she always did when my father was upset or displeased about something. She constantly ran interference when I had occasion to disappoint him.

  I hadn’t been sure how to explain what had happened without fear of my father hunting Jack down and killing him in cold blood. I merely told them that we were both drunk one night and it just sort of happened. In other words, I had mostly lied. I had been stone cold sober at the time.

  I remember by father’s face turning red; he had been livid about my behavior.

  “No daughter of mine is going to be regarded as some pa
rty tramp,” he had bellowed. “I want the name and address of this boy, I want it now! He will damn well make this right. I will see to that.”

  “Now Sidney,” my mother had whined, “Keep calm; remember your blood pressure.”

  Six weeks later, Jack Dennison and I had been married in a small civil ceremony in a judge’s chambers. The judge was one of my father’s closest friends.

  Jack had been able to graduate high school with his class.

  My parents had given us a seven day cruise for our honeymoon; they had purchased a two bedroom condo for us as a wedding gift. Jack had been given an entry level position in the office of my father’s company. My father had fixed the situation for us. He had a knack of doing just that. Unfortunately, no amount of my father’s power or influence could force Jack to love me.

  “Sammie? Hello?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, shaking the memories of our shot-gun wedding out of my mind for now. “What did you say, Jack?”

  “I wondered if you made dessert.”

  “Of course; Boston crème pie,” I replied, getting up to clear the dinner plates.

  “Oh - none for me thanks,” Susanne said. “I ate too much as it was. I’ll have to work out twice as long tomorrow morning.”

  I watched as Jack openly admired his assistant’s physique.

  “Speaking of which,” he said, “Susanne belongs to a great fitness club just a couple miles north of here, Sammie. Perhaps you two could meet mornings and work out together?”

  That was Jack’s not-so-subtle way of reminding me that I needed to get into shape. He worked out faithfully each day. Sometimes in the morning before work he stopped at his men’s club; sometimes after work. His physique was perfect.

  “Perhaps I will,” I replied. It was my standard reply to his nagging. If it shut him up for a day or two then it worked.

  After dessert, they both took mugs of coffee and went to Jack’s office which was on the second floor. I cleaned up the kitchen, thankful that I didn’t have to continue to make small talk and observe Jack’s beautiful and shapely assistant. Perhaps it was time I did focus on myself. Lindsey had encouraged me before she left for Cornell to do just that.