Free Death of a Trophy Wife by Laura Levine Page B

back and find me sitting there with a mouthful of Krispy Kreme.
    But as it turned out, Marvin didn’t show up for another three hours. By the time he finally puffed in at around 4 P.M ., I’d scarfed down two more donuts, checked my phone messages sixteen times, and read the latest issue of Mattress Digest from cover to cover.
    “I’m so sorry I’m late, Jaine!” Marvin cried, catching sight of me.
    “Oh, that’s okay,” I lied.
    “Some idiot in the main warehouse set off the sprinkler system and I had to make sure all the mattresses were okay.”
    “I totally understand,” I said, hoping I didn’t have donut crumbs in the corners of my mouth.
    “Come on in,” he said, waving me into his office.
    I trotted after him and took a seat in the froufrou antique chair across from his desk.
    “So!” Marvin beamed. “Ready to pitch your ideas?”
    “Absolutely!” I faked a confident smile. “But before I begin, I want to return this to you.”
    With great pride, I handed him my purloined mattress sample.
    “Oh, you didn’t have to return it,” he said, tossing it aside. “We’re getting a new shipment any day now.”
    For crying out loud. Can you beat that? I’d just run myself ragged for nothing!
    “Okay,” he said, getting down to business. “Whaddaya got?”
    With sweaty palms, I reached for my slogans and was just about to begin my pitch when his intercom buzzed.
    “Yes, Amy?” Marvin said, speaking into the box.
    “Your wife is on line one, Mr. Cooper.”
    “Sorry, Jaine.” He shrugged apologetically. “This won’t take very long.”
    Oh, yes, it did.
    I sat squirming in that damn excuse for a chair, my palms getting sweatier by the minute, as Marvin held the receiver to his ear, nodding his head, and periodically murmuring, “Yes, dear.”
    In the background, I could hear Bunny barking orders to him.
    At last, he managed to hang up.
    “I’m so sorry, Jaine, but Bunny needs me at the house. She’s throwing a party tonight, and she wants me home early.”
    “That’s okay,” I said, forcing a smile. “I’ll come back another time.”
    “I know! Why don’t you stop by the party tonight, and you can pitch your ideas to me then?”
    “Are you sure Bunny won’t mind?” I asked, not exactly relishing the thought of running into her again.
    “Of course Bunny won’t mind,” he assured me. “At our house, the door is always open.”
    If he only knew how open.
    “So is it a date?” he asked.
    “It’s a date,” I said, girding my loins for a fun-filled evening with Her Royal Bitchiness.
     
    I stopped off at Lance’s place on my way back to my apartment to see if he was going to Bunny’s bash.
    Indeed he was.
    “How did you find out about it?” he asked, as his tiny fluffball of a dog, Mamie, covered my ankles with slobbery kisses.
    Mamie, unlike a certain pampered feline I know, is one of the most affectionate pets on the planet. I knelt down to give her a love scratch.
    “You are the cutest-wootest wittle thing in all the world.”
    “I know I am,” Lance said, “but how did you find out about the party?”
    “Marvin invited me.”
    “That’s odd. Usually Bunny’s the one who hands out the invites.”
    Then I told him about my endless afternoon at Mattress King.
    “You went to pitch slogans looking like that?” he asked, eyeing my outfit with no small degree of disapproval.
    “What on earth is wrong with what I’m wearing? This happens to be an Eileen Fisher blouse.”
    “Did you know your Eileen Fisher blouse happens to have a blob of chocolate on it?”
    I looked down and saw the aforementioned chocolate blob.
    Damn those Krispy Kremes.
    “Honestly, Jaine. For your next birthday, I’m buying you a bib.”
    “And for your next birthday,” I said, in my frostiest tone of voice, “I’m buying you absolutely nothing.”
    “Oh, don’t get all pissy,” he said, putting his arm around me. “I only nag you because I love you. And I’m thrilled you’re coming