wasn’t the kind of thing she shared with him.
“I am thinking about divorcing you, Richard.”
He shrugged. “It’s unfortunate you feel that way.”
Tamara downed the rest of her scotch in one swig and slammed the glass onto the coffee table. “You broke the rules, goddammit!”
What could he say? She was right. The only thing she’d demanded when they got married was that his extracurricular activities never reflect badly on her. She would not be made a fool of—period. Richard agreed to those terms. If Amanda hadn’t gone and gotten herself killed, everything would still be copacetic. But she had died and left his child behind, and this could prove to be an exceptionally unflattering turn of events for Tamara Derrick Wahlman.
“I am sorry for how this played out. As you know, none of this was due to my own carelessness.”
Tamara howled. It took her a moment to collect herself. “Oh, Dick, my darling. The level of your self-involvement never ceases to amaze me.”
He adjusted his position on the steel girder, which he now suspected she purchased just to rupture one of his discs.
“Out of curiosity, Dick, while you were banging your intern, did you stop to consider that you might better serve your country by using a condom?”
“She was a staffer, not an intern.”
“Ah, so she was on your payroll while you were . . . What do the kids say today?
‘Hittin’ it’?
”
Richard twisted his face into a smile. “As much as I enjoy your verbal abuse and dirty talk, I must insist that you have an actual conversation with me this evening. You said you were willing to talk. So talk.”
“Right. And did you ever consider that your obsession with teenagers might damage my name and all members of the Derrick family?”
“She was twenty-four. Maybe even twenty-five. And this isn’t about your family or their deep-fried dynasty, Tamara.”
She laughed again. “Everything about you serving in the U.S. House of Representatives is about the wealth and connections of Derrick Brand Restaurants. Let’s not delude ourselves, dear, darling Dick. Your entire career has been built on chicken strips and fries.”
Richard remained perched on the edge of the sofa and stared at his hands. He needed to conclude this bit of nasty business. “Do you have any idea what kind of time frame you’re looking at with the divorce?”
“I’ll wait until after the election. When are you going public with the child?”
“Well, it depends.” He stood, knowing this would be the tricky part. “We’re dealing with two separate issues here, I’m afraid. First, there are the things I have no control over.”
Tamara’s wrinkly upper lip twitched.
“There is always the danger of an anonymous tip, plus the grandfather despises me so much that he might launch a campaign to ruin my reputation.”
“Ha! But you’re doing so well by yourself!”
He moved right along. “Also, my legal name is on dockets, petitions, and the custody ruling. It would take a halfway decent reporter two minutes to connect the dots, since Gerhardt R. Wahlman isn’t exactly the most common name in the universe. Thank God there aren’t too many halfway decent investigative reporters out there anymore.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back into the sofa. He hoped it bruised her kidneys. “I can’t wait to hear about the second issue.”
He cleared his throat. “Yes, well, my hope is that they find her soon and I can choose how and when to tell my story, giving me some control over how it plays out in the media. But that isn’t so clear cut, I’m afraid.”
“Exactly what are you implying?”
At that moment, Richard was positive she’d had work done. Tamara was trying her best to scowl, but her forehead looked as icy-smooth as a hockey rink after aZamboni run. He wondered when she might get around to having her lip wrinkles removed. They really did age her.
He needed to refocus, because he wanted out of there.
“I am thinking about divorcing you, Richard.”
He shrugged. “It’s unfortunate you feel that way.”
Tamara downed the rest of her scotch in one swig and slammed the glass onto the coffee table. “You broke the rules, goddammit!”
What could he say? She was right. The only thing she’d demanded when they got married was that his extracurricular activities never reflect badly on her. She would not be made a fool of—period. Richard agreed to those terms. If Amanda hadn’t gone and gotten herself killed, everything would still be copacetic. But she had died and left his child behind, and this could prove to be an exceptionally unflattering turn of events for Tamara Derrick Wahlman.
“I am sorry for how this played out. As you know, none of this was due to my own carelessness.”
Tamara howled. It took her a moment to collect herself. “Oh, Dick, my darling. The level of your self-involvement never ceases to amaze me.”
He adjusted his position on the steel girder, which he now suspected she purchased just to rupture one of his discs.
“Out of curiosity, Dick, while you were banging your intern, did you stop to consider that you might better serve your country by using a condom?”
“She was a staffer, not an intern.”
“Ah, so she was on your payroll while you were . . . What do the kids say today?
‘Hittin’ it’?
”
Richard twisted his face into a smile. “As much as I enjoy your verbal abuse and dirty talk, I must insist that you have an actual conversation with me this evening. You said you were willing to talk. So talk.”
“Right. And did you ever consider that your obsession with teenagers might damage my name and all members of the Derrick family?”
“She was twenty-four. Maybe even twenty-five. And this isn’t about your family or their deep-fried dynasty, Tamara.”
She laughed again. “Everything about you serving in the U.S. House of Representatives is about the wealth and connections of Derrick Brand Restaurants. Let’s not delude ourselves, dear, darling Dick. Your entire career has been built on chicken strips and fries.”
Richard remained perched on the edge of the sofa and stared at his hands. He needed to conclude this bit of nasty business. “Do you have any idea what kind of time frame you’re looking at with the divorce?”
“I’ll wait until after the election. When are you going public with the child?”
“Well, it depends.” He stood, knowing this would be the tricky part. “We’re dealing with two separate issues here, I’m afraid. First, there are the things I have no control over.”
Tamara’s wrinkly upper lip twitched.
“There is always the danger of an anonymous tip, plus the grandfather despises me so much that he might launch a campaign to ruin my reputation.”
“Ha! But you’re doing so well by yourself!”
He moved right along. “Also, my legal name is on dockets, petitions, and the custody ruling. It would take a halfway decent reporter two minutes to connect the dots, since Gerhardt R. Wahlman isn’t exactly the most common name in the universe. Thank God there aren’t too many halfway decent investigative reporters out there anymore.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back into the sofa. He hoped it bruised her kidneys. “I can’t wait to hear about the second issue.”
He cleared his throat. “Yes, well, my hope is that they find her soon and I can choose how and when to tell my story, giving me some control over how it plays out in the media. But that isn’t so clear cut, I’m afraid.”
“Exactly what are you implying?”
At that moment, Richard was positive she’d had work done. Tamara was trying her best to scowl, but her forehead looked as icy-smooth as a hockey rink after aZamboni run. He wondered when she might get around to having her lip wrinkles removed. They really did age her.
He needed to refocus, because he wanted out of there.
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