Tyson confronting my husband was the last thing I ever expected. I shuddered to think what he must’ve told him and the crass manner in which he did it. How embarrassing it must’ve been to Jason to be accosted in his own place of business and told what a sex fiend his wife really was.

Before I could get all the way to the car, a police officer grabbed me by the arm, instructing me to stand back. I informed him my husband had been taken away in the other car and asked where he was taken and why.

The officer informed me that Jason and Tyson had gotten into a physical altercation, and while no charges would probably be filed against Jason, since he was provoked into fighting at his own office, they had to take them both down to the station to get the mess sorted out.

“Officer, I can explain this whole thing. It’s all my fault. My husband had nothing to do with it.”

“Well, then, you definitely need to come down to the precinct and give a statement. Here’s the address to thestation. I’ll put my name on the card as well.” He scribbled his name on the little white generic card, on the blank line provided, and handed it to me. “Do you need a lift?”

I considered his offer, but only for a second. There was no way I was getting in the same car with Tyson, even if I was in the front and he was behind a barrier and handcuffed in the backseat. He had already tried to kill me and had apparently tried to kill my husband too.Getting in the car with him could only mean another ugly situation. “No thanks, officer. I have another way to get there.”

“Okay, ma’am.” He got into the driver’s seat, and while he was pulling off, I stared at Tyson, who had a look in his eyes that could melt ice. His lips were trembling, and while not a professional lip reader, I recognized the all-too-familiar nickname for me when he mouthed, “Bitch!”

I kept a key to Jason’s Land Rover on my ring, so I ran to the garage and found it parked in his assigned space. When I got to the precinct, it was pure madness. Those citizens who chose to cross the blue line of the law—from pimps and prostitutes to drunk drivers and drug dealers—and the ones paid to represent them were everywhere. They were all there. It was the one place Jason didn’t belong.The officer that gave me the card wasn’t even there, having been sent back out on his beat. The female officer behind the booking desk told me to have a seat and wait for a senior officer to come and get me. I complied, even though I didn’t want to. I wanted Jason out of jail right that second, but causing a scene and bumrushing thewoman behind the desk would’ve only landed my ass in jail too. Then again, I was the one who really belonged there. I was the seedy element.

After about fifty minutes of pure hell, not knowing where my baby was, a man in a pair of gray slacks, white shirt, and paisley tie approached me with a shield hanging out of his shirt pocket. “Mrs. Reynard, I’m Detective Rinaldi. Please follow me.”

He didn’t shake my hand or anything. He just stood there while I gathered my belongings so I could follow him to a small, cramped room at the end of one of the several cluttered hallways. He was a big man; the floor seemed to shake underneath his feet as he walked. He was having trouble breathing, and it wouldn’t have taken more than an educated guess to realize a heart attack was lurking in his near future.

Once we were in the room with the door closed, he asked, “Mrs. Reynard, I understand you think you can clear up the whole situation with your husband?”

“Yes, I can!” Twenty times a day, various people asked me would I like something to drink, and I always replied no. The one time I really was suffering from an extremely dry mouth, no one asked. I suppose making drink runs wasn’t in the detective’s job description. He was obviously a man on a mission, all about getting to the bottom of whatever dilemma faced him in the quickest manner possible. I decided not to waste his time.

I quickly related the whole sordid story—at least the part of it involving my extramarital affair with Tyson and the ultimate breakup. I told him Tyson couldn’t deal with being dismissed from my life and decided to seek revenge by telling my husband. I conveniently omitted the attempted murder by strangulation and my other affairs. Things were complicated enough without bringing all ofthat into it. I knew that would only escalate matters and possibly hold up Jason’s release.

Detective Rinaldi turned out to be a very nice man after all. He won brownie points for being one of the few people not to call me a bitch, ho, or tramp that day. He just calmly listened to what I had to say and informed me, “These types of situations happen every day.”

That shouldn’t have surprised me, considering all of the

people who appear on talk shows fighting over their lovers, but his nonchalant approach took me off guard just the same. Scandalous affairs, dishonesty, violence, and things like that are supposed to happen to other people. Not to Jason and me.

“Wait here, Mrs. Reynard.” With that, he left me in the room all alone for about ten minutes. It felt more like ten hours to me.

He came back in with a grin on his face. “Your husband will be released without any charges. His story matches yours, and in this country, self-defense isn’t a crime.”

I jumped up from the table and took his stubby hand, shaking it viciously whether he wanted to shake hands with me or not. “Thanks so much, Detective Rinaldi. I really appreciate this.”

On my way out of the room, I hesitated. It shouldn’t have mattered to me, but I had to find out. “Detective, what about Tyson? Will he be released too?”

He smirked, probably wondering why I gave a damn, since I claimed the affair was over. “Now that’s a different matter. Mr. Chase violated his parole so the PO assigned to his jacket will have to deal with him.”

In all that time, I never knew Tyson’s last name. That made me feel even more like a whore. Jeopardizing my marriage for a man I knew on a first-name basis only. WhatDusty blurted out earlier ran through my mind. Gurlfriend had been telling the truth. “On parole for what?”

“I’m not supposed to divulge that information. Sorry.”


“Sorry, no can do.” He was ready to get rid of me and move on to the next case awaiting his attention. “You can have a seat out in the waiting area. He’ll be coming out that way from the holding cell in a few moments.”

“Thanks again, detective!” He didn’t respond, so I closed the door and made my way back out near the booking area. The worst challenge of the horrid day was still in front of me. I only hoped I could make Jason see the light.

My optimism quickly faded the moment I saw Jason’s face. I had known and loved the man all my life and had never seen him look so hurt, angry, and disappointed. He glanced at me, and when I headed toward him, he rapidly brushed past me, almost knocking me on my ass right there in the middle of the station. I followed him outside and caught up to him at the bottom of the station steps.

“Jason!” He just kept walking, headed in the opposite direction from the Rover, since he didn’t know where it was parked anyway. He didn’t care where he was headed. He just wanted to get the hell away from me. I was right on his heels. “Jason, you’ve got to talk to me!”

He stopped dead in his tracks, turned around, and glared at me. “Zoe, I don’t have to do shit but stay black, pay taxes, and die! I don’t have shit to say to you right now!”

He didn’t say anything else, but he didn’t walk away from me either. I took that as my cue to try to explain. Even though he claimed he didn’t want to talk, I knewhim like a book. He wanted me to make sense out of it to him, or at the very least make a sincere attempt. “I was going to tell you, Jason. I tried to tell you a thousand times, and after talking to Dr. Spencer today, I was on my way to tell you. I swear!”

He rolled his eyes and started walking around me like he was examining a piece of furniture. “Do you honestly expect me to believe you were going to tell me?”

He was right! There was no reason on earth he should believe me. I tried to touch his arm, but he pulled away from me. “Baby, can we please just go someplace quiet and talk? I asked Momma to stay late with the kids. I told her we were going to dinner and a movie.”

“You lied to your mother?” Then as an afterthought, he added, “I guess you’re an expert at lying though, aren’t you?”

I could’ve denied it, but the lies were going to stop. Lying had done enough damage. “Yes, I’m an expert. Jason, I’m very sick, Boo.”

“You’ve got that right! That’s the one thing we can agree on, and who the fuck is Dr. Spencer?”

We were making some headway. We were having a conversation without raising our voices and I felt maybe there was a chance for us yet. “Dr. Marcella Spencer.”

“What’s wrong with you? What kind of doctor?”

“A therapist. The one I was telling you about. The one I met a while back.” I diverted my eyes to the ground because I couldn’t look him in the eyes and continue. “She’s been counseling me about my addiction to sex.”

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