eyes, and irresistibly confident, with a confidence that Tracy had always lacked, even though you would never know it, to look at her.
He piled boxes of food into her freezer, then threw in more because, he said, she was so pretty. She guessed he said that to all the girls, but the next day he rang her doorbell again, and this time, instead of holding a box of crab claws, he held a bouquet of flowers.
For a while, it was everything Tracy had ever dreamed about. He was loving, attentive, lavishing her with attention and presents. He adored her so much, he couldn’t bear for her to even talk to another man, and, in the beginning, she found it endearing to be loved so much.
Until the night they had run into an old friend whom she had hugged—and Jed changed. He said nothing, gave her the silent treatment until they got home, and as soon as the front door closed, he screamed at her.
She had humiliated him, he said, flirting with another man. How dare she, he spat, as she tried, in disbelief, to defend herself. He pushed her against the wall, hard, and she was so shocked, she told him to get out.
He left, coming back two hours later, weeping and telling her he didn’t know what came over him and he would never lay a finger on her again.
She should have left that night. Now, looking back, she thinks so often of how her life would have been different if she had left that night, but how did she know? How did she know what was to come as she sat on the sofa with this wreck of a man, who she knew she loved, weeping in her arms?
The pushing happened again. And again. And more. So much more. Each time he swore it would never happen again, and as time went by she became too scared to leave, tried to keep her head down. He told her he was insecure because they weren’t married, so they got married, and things got worse. She was now his. His property. His to abuse as he pleased.
Eventually, Jed started having affairs, and he left her, as she always hoped he would, for she knew she didn’t have the strength to leave him.
She moved house, changed her name, got a new job working as a secretary for Richard Stonehill, who had a penchant for redheads, and a penchant for her.
She became a sleek, glossy redhead, deeply tanned (aided by an excellent self-tanning spray), with huge diamond studs in her ears and an even larger ring on her finger.
It was easy to be a rich housewife, easier still to be married to one of the biggest movie executives in Hollywood. And it was fun, to go to all those parties, to have all those stars over for dinner, to call them friends, even though she knew the rules, knew that the friendship was entirely due to Richard’s power. As soon as they divorced she wasn’t surprised the friends all disappeared.
The divorce was easy. Setting it up wasn’t quite so easy. Under California law, spouses are automatically entitled to fifty percent, but not when they have signed a watertight prenup.
Luckily for Tracy, she knew about Richard’s secret before she married him. Hell, it was part of the reason he married her, for he believed she accepted him, loved him; she was able to dominate him like no one else, not even the mistresses he had paid over the years.
She often felt like giggling, in her costume of black latex, as she and several others tied Richard up and smacked him until he was sore and red; and soon she began to find Richard rather ridiculous.
She no longer needed saving from Jed, and she no longer needed Richard. The prenup she had signed was indeed watertight, but his reputation was not, and when Tracy decided the time had come for them to move on with their lives, all she had to do was produce some photographs she had taken over the course of some of their more . . . elaborate parties, and Richard was offering her whatever she wanted.
His manager stepped in. Tried to tell Tracy he would ruin her, but Tracy had laughed and said she was only a housewife, what did she have to lose.
In the end she got a settlement she was reasonably happy with, and a chance to reinvent herself. She grew her hair long and highlighted it blonde,