Блейк Пирс
The Perfect Wife

“But…?” Dr. Lemmon prodded.

“Something just feels a little off about the place. I’ve been having trouble nailing it down. Everyone has been incredibly friendly so far. I’ve been invited to coffees and brunches and barbecues. I’ve gotten suggestions for the best grocery stores and daycare options, should we eventually need one. But something just feels…off-kilter. And it’s starting to affect me.”

“In what way?” Dr. Lemmon asked.

“I find myself feeling down for no good reason,” Jessie said. “Kyle came home late for a dinner I made and I let it weigh me down much more than I should have. It wasn’t that big a deal but he was so nonchalant about it. It just ate at me. Also, just unpacking boxes seems daunting in a way that’s outsized for the task at hand. I have this constant, overwhelming sense that I don’t belong, that there’s some secret key to a room everyone else has been in and no one will give it to me.”

“Jessie, it’s been a while since our last session so I’m going to remind you of something we’ve discussed before. There doesn’t have to be a ‘good reason’ for these feelings to take hold. What you’re dealing with can appear out of nowhere. And it’s not a shock that a stressful, new situation, no matter how seemingly picture-perfect, could stir them up. Are you taking your medication regularly?”

“Every day.”

“Okay,” the doctor said, making a note on her pad. “It’s possible that we may need to switch it up. I also noticed you mentioned daycare might be necessary in the near future. Is that something you two are pursuing actively—kids? If so, that’s another reason to switch your meds.”

“We are trying…intermittently. But sometimes Kyle seems excited by the prospect and then he gets…distant; almost cold. Sometimes he says something and I wonder ‘who is that guy?’”

“If it’s any reassurance, all of this is very normal, Jessie. You’re in a new environment, surrounded by strangers, with only one person you know well to cling to. It’s stressful. And he’s feeling a lot of those same things, so you’re bound to butt heads and have moments where you don’t connect.”

“But that’s the thing, Doctor,” Jessie pressed. “Kyle doesn’t seem stressed. He obviously likes his job. He has an old high school friend who lives in the area so he’s got that outlet. And all signs indicate that he’s totally psyched to be there—no adjustment period necessary. He doesn’t appear to miss anything from our old life—not our friends, not our old hangouts, not being in a place where stuff actually happens after nine at night. He’s completely adjusted.”

“It might look that way. But I’d be willing to bet he’s not as sure of things on the inside.”

“I’d take that bet,” Jessie said.

“Whether you’re right or not,” Dr. Lemmon said, noting the edge in Jessie’s voice, “the next step is to ask yourself what you are going to do about this new life. How can you make it work better for you as an individual and as a couple?”

“I’m really at a loss,” Jessie said. “I feel like I’m giving this place a shot. But I’m not like him. I’m not a ‘dive right in’ kind of gal.”

“That’s certainly true,” the doctor agreed. “You’re a naturally wary person, with good reason. But you may have to turn the volume down on that a smidgen to get by for a while, especially in social situations. Maybe try to open yourself up a little more to the possibilities around you. And perhaps give Kyle the benefit of the doubt a bit more. Are these reasonable requests?”

“Of course they are, when you ask in this room. Out there it’s different.”

“Maybe that’s a choice you’re making,” Dr. Lemmon suggested. “Let me ask you something. The last time we met, we discussed the source of your nightmares. I gather you’re still having them, yes?”

Jessie nodded. The doctor continued.

“Okay. We also discussed you sharing that with your husband, letting him know why you wake up in a cold sweat several times a week. Have you done that?”

“No,” Jessie admitted guiltily.

“I know you’re concerned about how he’ll react. But we talked about how telling him the truth about your past might help you deal with it more effectively and bring the two of you closer together.”

“Or it could tear us apart,” Jessie countered. “I understand what you’re saying, Doctor. But there’s a reason so few people know about my personal history. It’s not warm and fuzzy. Most people can’t handle it. You only know because I did research on your background and determined that you had specific training and experience with this kind of thing. I sought you out and let you into my head because I knew you could handle it.”

“Your husband has known you for almost a decade. You don’t think he can handle it?”

“I think a seasoned professional like you had to use every ounce of restraint and empathy you had not to run out of the room screaming when I told you. How do you think a regular dude from suburban Southern California is going to react?”

“I don’t know Kyle so I couldn’t say,” Dr. Lemmon replied. “But if you’re planning to start a family with him—spend the rest of your life with him—you might want to consider whether you can realistically wall off a whole chunk of it from him.”

“I’ll take it under consideration,” Jessie said noncommittally.

She could sense that Dr. Lemmon understood that she wasn’t going to engage on the topic anymore.

“So let’s talk medication,” the doctor said, changing subjects. “I have a few suggestions for alternatives now that you’re planning to get pregnant.”

Jessie stared at Dr. Lemmon, watching her mouth move. But try as she might, she couldn’t concentrate. The words drifted by as her thoughts returned to those dark woods from her childhood, the ones that haunted her dreams.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Jessie lay in bed, tangled up in the sheets, trying to ignore the sunlight poking at her eyes through the open slit in the bedroom curtains.

It was her first Saturday morning in this house and she wanted it to be a lazy one, just her and Kyle, casually opening boxes, sipping coffee, making love. Yesterday had been a good day. Professor Hosta had sent her an email letting her know she’d get to visit NRD for the first time next week. She’d had a great run all the way down to the harbor and back. It was the first chance she’d gotten to really get some exercise and clear her head since they’d moved and she felt energized and hopeful. Kyle didn’t have to go into the office so they had the whole weekend free.

She heard movement and reluctantly opened her eyes. Kyle was walking into the room with a coffee mug in each hand. She stretched happily and sat up.

“My hero,” she said as she took the one he handed her.

“Is that all it takes these days?” he asked.

“Ten thousand years ago I would have expected you to bag an elk or something. But these days, a strong cup of coffee makes you a mighty fine provider.”

“Well, I’m happy to meet my marital obligations.”

“There are a few other marital obligations I expect you to meet today, mister,” Jessie said, shimmying close to him.

“Oh yeah?” he said, playing dumb. “Like what?”

“Like ravaging me…once I’ve brushed my teeth; like finally unpacking that box of china in the dining room; like having your way with me again; like taking me to lunch and a movie to get out of this heat—maybe back in the old neighborhood; like coming back home for a quickie before ordering takeout and cuddling up on the couch to binge the rest of Killing Eve. How does that sound for a perfect Saturday?”

The look on his face suggested he didn’t consider it a perfect plan.

“The first part sounds good,” he said carefully. “But maybe we can rethink the evening plans.”

“Oh, is that show too scary for you, big man?” she asked, trying to keep her voice playful even though she sensed he was about to make that impossible.

“I think I can handle it,” he said, not playing along. “But maybe we do that another night. And maybe we have lunch around here.”

“But you know how I love the theater near LA Live.”

“Yeah, but that’s a long way to go for a movie. I think we should find a theater near here that can become your new favorite. After all, this is home now. You promised me you’d give Westport a real chance.”

Jessie, irked, was about to respond when she heard Dr. Lemmon’s voice in her head, reminding her to give Kyle the benefit of the doubt. Besides, she could tell he wasn’t done. Reluctantly, she bit her tongue as he continued.

“Also, I was hoping we could go to the club tonight. There were some other people who were excited to meet us and a bunch of them are going to be there this evening. It seems like the perfect chance to get to know some new people.”

“Why does all the social stuff we do have to center around this club?” Jessie asked. “We’re not even members there. Can’t we just join a book club or something?”

“I’m happy to join a book club too, Jess,” Kyle said, frustratingly calm. “But I don’t see the harm in going back to Club Deseo. The whole point of being here, at least partly, is to become part of a community. I felt really isolated in the city. Seeing friends was a challenge. Meeting new ones was even harder. There’s a ready-made community here, with people who are opening their arms to us. Our neighbors might actually become our friends. And a lot of them go to this club. It’s a social hub. Why would we intentionally cut ourselves off from that?”

“I’m not saying we have to cut ourselves off,” Jessie insisted. “But do we have to jump into the deep end right away? What if they turn out to be assholes?”

Kyle looked hard at her and she could tell he was the one now struggling to keep his cool.

“If they’re assholes, we bail, Jess,” he said, his voice more composed than his face. “But I’m not asking to jump into the deep end. I just want to dip my toes in the water. Can we please try that?”

Kyle was doing that thing that Jessie found both endearing and infuriating. He was being reasonable and level-headed as she became less so. She knew it was what made him so good at his job. No matter how scary the financial markets got, he always stayed cool and collected. His clients loved that. The same quality helped balance out her volatility and passion. But sometimes she just wanted him to lose it a little.

“Yes,” she finally said, accepting that what he was asking for—going out to a country club dinner with his wife to meet new people—was not unreasonable. “We can try that.”

*

Within seconds of arriving that night, Jessie knew she had misjudged the evening.

For starters, she was horribly underdressed. This was clearly a formal event. All the men were in suits and every woman wore an evening gown. Kyle had on a sports coat so he could fake it and get by. But she was wearing a loose sundress with a shawl in case the air conditioning was blasting. The other women wore heels. She was in sandals.

“We should leave,” she whispered aggressively to Kyle as they waited to be seated. “I feel like a pauper at the ball.”

“We’re fine,” Kyle whispered back. “No one said anything about dressy attire. And Teddy put us on the invite list so we’re not going to be kicked out. Just own it, woman. You look better in that dress than any of these women do in their fancy get-ups.”

He squeezed her hand supportively and she leaned into him, using his physical presence as invisible protection from the discomfort she felt. Teddy caught sight of them from across the darkened dining room and waved warmly as he walked over. Jessie looked around for Melanie but didn’t see her. With the lights so low, it was hard to distinguish anyone among the assembled.

“Hi guys,” Teddy said as reached them. “Perfect timing; the Agenda is about to start. Jessie, Mel is waiting for you down in the Hearthkeepers’ Sanctuary. I’ll walk you both over and she’ll show you where to go from there.”

“Agenda? Hearthkeepers?” Jessie repeated skeptically. “Those are some fancy words there, Teddy. I feel like I need a glossary of terms. Is this not just dinner at the club?”

“It is,” he assured her, seemingly oblivious to her tone. “But they have these traditions here. It’s not a big deal, really. The ladies just want to welcome you to the community. We have a similar thing planned for Kyle. And then we’ll all meet up again to eat afterward.”

“What’s the guys’ group called?” Jessie asked snarkily as they walked down the long stairwell to the lower level. “The Hunter-Gatherers?”

Kyle gave her a glare that indicated he wasn’t amused.

“Actually, we’re called the Oath Minders.”

“Oh, that’s much better,” Jessie replied, trying to keep her voice sincere and not quite succeeding.

Teddy led them through the throng of people milling about in the dim light of the first floor, all sipping champagne and munching on hors d’oeuvres served by impossibly beautiful nymphettes in tight, black cocktail dresses. There wasn’t a child in sight. Jessie wondered if the Pirate’s Cove was packed or if they were all being kept home tonight.

Finally they made it through the crowd to a small alcove at the edge of the room, where Teddy abruptly stopped. Before them stood another gorgeous girl, who wasn’t holding an appetizer or drink tray. She seemed to almost be standing guard.

Teddy leaned in and whispered something to her. She nodded and did something behind her back with her hand that Jessie couldn’t quite see. Suddenly, a panel of the wall quietly slid back, revealing a darkened stairwell.

“This is where we part ways,” Teddy said. “Mel will meet you down below for the Agenda. We’ll all regroup back up here in a little bit for dinner.”

“See you soon,” Kyle said, leaning in to give her a goodbye peck on the cheek.

“What the hell is this?” Jessie whispered in his ear when he was close. “I feel like I’m about to be ritually sacrificed.”

He pulled back a bit and she could tell he was trying to stifle a smile. He leaned back in and kissed her again, this time full on the lips. Then he wrapped her up for a hug.

“You are a piece of work, Jessica,” he whispered back, his hot breath warming her ear. “Turn off your forensic Spidey sense for a little bit. Has it ever occurred to you that this is how folks around here keep things from getting too boring? They don’t have nightly shootouts outside their condos. They don’t have homeless guys chasing them down the street with used syringes. Maybe this is how they keep things interesting. I find it almost…charming.”

He pulled back and she was able to see the twinkle in his eye. It gave her confidence that he was more amused than impressed by this spectacle, and that, at least, was reassuring. She smiled tightly and turned to go down the darkened stairs as the panel slid back into place behind her. It clicked and she heard a locking sound. There was nowhere to go now but down.

With each step, the crowd noise above dissipated. Soon there was silence. As she reached what she hoped was the bottom, a new sound emerged. It was music, the soothing instrumental kind one heard while getting a massage at the spa. A dim flickering light in the distance guided her.

When she finally reached the last step, she saw that she was in what looked like a large, extremely well-appointed dungeon. Torches were attached to the rustic, stone walls. The art on the walls was comprised of paintings of grotesque-looking women and odd, abstract sculptures that seemed to sprout right out of the rock.

There were elegant, old-fashioned chairs scattered through the room. Some were occupied by women in fancy dresses, sipping their drinks. Other ladies stood in small groups, chatting quietly. When Jessie’s sandal flopped on the stone floor as she took her last step, they all turned and stopped speaking. Despite the absurdity of the situation, Jessie felt a chill run down her spine.

After a long, awkward second, she saw Melanie step out from behind two much taller women and rush over to her. She too was in an evening gown that flattered her diminutive frame. Her short dark hair was pulled back in a tight knot.

“You must be freaking out,” Mel muttered when she got close. “I know I would be. The first time I came down here, I thought they were going to bring out a manacled virgin or something. The only the thing that kept me calm was knowing that with my history, it couldn’t be me.”

Jessie smiled despite her discomfort.

“What is this place?” she asked.

“It’s called the Sanctuary,” Melanie explained. “And the name applies. There are separate facilities down here, a private spa among them. Only club members and interviewees are allowed down here.”

“I thought this whole place was ‘the club.’”

“Upstairs is more for show. Imagine this area as being the good stuff behind the pay wall.”

“Wait, did you say interviewees?” Jessie asked, only now processing that part of Mel’s earlier comment. “Is this some kind of interview?”

“Yes,” Melanie said, surprised. “This is your membership interview to join the club. It means you passed the initial background and financial checks and your application was preliminarily approved. Now you have the interview. Kyle is going through the same thing with the Oath Minders. Didn’t he tell you any of this?”

“No,” Jessie said, feeling the anger rise inside her. “He didn’t.”

“Oh, Melanie,” called out a tall, angular brunette in the back of the room. “It’s time to question the candidate.”

“Of course,” Mel replied before turning to Jessie and quietly saying, “Just be enthusiastic, respectful, and demure. They may try to rattle you. It’s like highbrow hazing. Just stay cool.”

Then she was gone, retreating back into the sea of gowns. The tall woman stepped forward so that she was only a few feet away. Up close, her features were even more pronounced. Every part of her face seemed carved from stone. Her nose and chin ended in sharp points. Her thin torso looked half-starved. Her dark eyes blazed in the candlelight. She seemed like she belonged in a royal European court more than an Orange County social club. The murmuring stopped and the spa music cut out.

“I am Marguerite Brennan, President of the Club Deseo Hearthkeepers. Jessica Madeline Hunt, you have been nominated for membership and submitted your bona fides. We have now reached the time of questioning. Are you prepared?”

Jessie looked around at the serious, unsmiling faces and decided this wasn’t the time to crack wise. She was pissed that Kyle had applied to this club without discussing it with her first. She felt sandbagged. But that was something to address with him privately later.

“I am,” she replied, mustering up what she hoped was the appropriate deference.

“Then let us begin. Do you believe that your marriage is the most important thing in your life?”

The question was complicated and intrusive. And it was clear what the right response was supposed to be. Jessie decided that she could honestly answer it, as at least most of the time it was.

“Yes,” she said.

“Do you plan to have children?” Marguerite asked, her tone so uncurious that Jessie thought she might as well be asking if she planned to have chicken for dinner tonight.

She opened her mouth, about to respond to what she considered a private matter with a snarky retort about how few folks ever truly plan such a thing. But at the last minute she thought better of it.

“Yes,” Jessie said, again deciding there was no harm in answering truthfully.

“Is loyalty a priority to you?”

“Absolutely,” Jessie said without hesitation.

“Is discretion a priority for you?” Marguerite asked.

That question could be interpreted many ways. But considering that she was “applying” to join a secret club, Jessie decided to go with the safe answer, even though she sensed that Marguerite might be setting a trap for her.

“Yes.”

“Have you ever been unfaithful to your husband?” Marguerite inquired emotionlessly.

I guess we’ve gotten to part two of the Q&A session.

“Have you?” Jessie blurted out before she could stop herself.

Marguerite stared daggers at her and she happily stared back. She wasn’t going to be cowed by some SoCal royalty wannabe.

“I am already a member,” Marguerite replied, her tone all pique. “So my indiscretions or lack thereof are not a matter for discussion at this time. So let me repeat the question. Have you—”

“No need to repeat, Marguerite. And it’s not really your business. But since I already said loyalty was a priority for me, no.”

Marguerite paused briefly, her thin lips pursing into something between a smile and a grimace.

“When did you lose your virginity?” she asked slowly. She seemed borderline reluctant to ask, as if worried how Jessie might react.

“Definitely not your business,” Jessie replied, getting into the groove now. “I’m willing to go with the teen years, but that’s as much as I care to share.”

She heard soft murmuring and knew that her answers were no longer hitting the bull’s-eye. She saw Mel in the back, biting her lip nervously. Marguerite stared at her humorlessly before asking what Jessie suspected was the final question.

“How many people have you had sex with?”

Jessie could feel her skin tingling with righteous resentment. She wanted to say “none of your goddamn business, cyborg lady.” But she knew Marguerite was testing her, trying to upset her. She wouldn’t fall prey to this amateur’s machinations. After all, she’d dealt with far more cunning manipulators.

“Oh my,” she said, adopting a tenor of faux embarrassment, “such a penetrating question in so public a venue. I think I’m going to have to refer you back to my earlier answer about the value of discretion and just say—that information dies with me.”

She smiled sweetly and waited for the axe to fall.