I Married a Master(25)
Author: Melanie Marchande

"Yeah, that’s what they all say." He was grinning.

The word echoed in my head.

All.

All the women he brought here.

All the women who showered in his home.

None of my business. None. And yet, something quivered inside my chest.

His forehead creased slightly, and his smile disappeared. A moment later, he recovered, and I wasn’t sure if he was simply reacting to my stony silence, or if he actually regretted saying it.

"I’m going to have a drink in the library," he said. "Maybe write some dirty words in my zen garden. You’re welcome to join me, or I can show you to your room."

In spite of the lingering discomfort from imagining him with all those other anonymous women, I laughed. "Why don’t you just write BOOBS on a calculator?"

"Please, that’s amateur hour. I’m a professional. I use my tiny sandbox to write all the names I wish I could say to the guy who’s running the conference call and won’t stop clearing his throat."

He wasn’t kidding – he actually had one of those little zen gardens, complete with white sand, tiny polished rocks, and miniature wooden rakes. There was nothing but abstract designs at the moment, so I picked up one of the rakes and used the flat side to smooth out all the sand before carefully tracing BASTARD.

Looking up from his glass of scotch, he lifted his hand to his chest in mock appreciation. "Oh, is that for me?"

"If the shoe fits." I sat down, smiling at my handiwork.

"You have any auditions lined up this week, Little Miss Can’t Be Wrong?"

My lips thinned. "It would be great if you could never, ever call me that. Ever." I sighed. "But, to answer your question, no. I was hoping the one I went to today would pan out, but…"

"But?" He raised his eyebrows, silently prompting me to go on.

"But, it was just some scam, and I’m pretty sure the guy offered to put me in porn."

The eyebrows went up a little further.

"No comment?" I said, after a moment.

"I’m really sorry that happened to you," he said, sounding for all the world like he actually meant it. Well, okay, that was a surprise.

I shrugged. "It wasn’t the worst thing ever. I just, you know – psyched myself up, and then it was nothing. Not even worth leaving the house for."

"But you gotta get back on that horse." He frowned. "That might have been a poor choice of words."

Okay, slightly less of a surprise.

"I haven’t even logged back onto the site that has the legitimate ones," I said. "But that’ll teach me to hunt for jobs on Craigslist."

"Here, I’ll help you pick one," he said. "Why don’t you log in, read me the headlines. I’m really good at picking things. Ask Daniel about my March Madness brackets."

I laughed. "That’s very generous of you, but their website is a piece of shit. I can’t make it work on mobile, and I think I’m done with Craigslist stuff for now."

"You want to use my computer?" he reached under his desk and pulled out a laptop. "Come on. Don’t chicken out on me."

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, fine. But I’m not making any promises."

When I flipped the screen open, it blocked my view of his arms. Sigh. But hey, this couldn’t possibly hurt. And maybe it would even be productive.

Suddenly, I heard a tinny version of a familiar song, slightly muffled, and Ben dug into his pocket. He frowned at the screen of his phone.

"Sorry," he said, glancing up at me. "It’s my brother. I’ve gotta take this. He’s in the middle of one of his famous crises."

"Sure," I said, nodding absently. He disappeared out the door and down the hallway, and I was left alone to browse the listings. None of them sounded good. I was hopeless. Whether it was self-sabotage or not, my own brain was terribly good at convincing me that none of these jobs were worth my time. Maybe Ben was right – maybe this little exercise would actually be good for me. In this case, his judgment might actually be more trustworthy than mine.

Something told me the conversation with his brother was going to take a while. Absentmindedly, my eyes scanned the menu bar, noticing his most frequently viewed sites. News, news, science news, medical news, more news, FDA news. It made sense, but did he really not have any extracurricular interests?

He must.

And I could find out what they were, if I really wanted to.

His bookmarks were right there. All I had to do was open the window. There couldn’t be anything truly confidential in here. He wasn’t using it to log into banking or investment websites. The only remotely personal thing I saw was some kind of zombie-killing game that he probably used to blow off steam. Of course, he’d be stupid to let some random person play around on a laptop that might have corporate secrets on it.

Glancing at the door, guiltily, I opened the bookmarks menu.

There was a lot more of the same boring stuff in there. It was all sorted into sub-folders, including one called "Recipes" that had a few tasty-sounding ideas in it. I still felt like a total creep, but it was somewhat of a relief that there was nothing scandalous in here.

A relief…and a disappointment?

What the hell was wrong with me? Why did I want there to be something wrong with this guy?

Just close the stupid menu. There’s nothing here worth seeing, and you’re being totally ridiculous. How would you explain

There was one folder just labelled "Research." When I hovered over it, there were only a few bookmarks, and each one was just a random string of nonsense letters.

Curiosity overtook me. Feeling like a total creep, I clicked on the first one.

Instantly, my eyes snapped shut. Just close it, Jenna. Don’t even look at it. He probably forgot this stuff was on there, it’s not fair to snoop on him.

I heard his voice raise slightly in the other room. Not enough to pick out words, but enough to indicate the conversation was either going to end very soon, or drag on for a while longer.

I opened my eyes, and I saw the site I’d clicked on.

THE DOMESTIC DISCIPLINE FORUMS.

I stared. The banner at the top of the page was Photoshopped from a vintage newspaper ad, one that portrayed a stern-looking man with slicked-back hair, who had turned his wife over his knee. Both of them were dressed in typical 1950’s outfits, and the woman’s look of shock – along with the man’s upraised arm – told me everything I needed to know.

Shit.

I could hear Ben’s voice coming closer. "All right, all right. Listen. I have to go. Please don’t do anything stupid, okay? Just sleep on it."

Frantically, I closed the window and took a deep breath. I was sure I looked guilty as hell. But why on earth had he let me – almost a complete stranger – use his computer? Did he want me to find this?