First Wife Club Read online

  Her eyes welled with tears, and her chin quivered. She looked like she wanted to say something, but shook her head instead. “That’s not true. You know how I feel.”

  “No, I don’t. You don’t tell me,” I said. “Every time I ask you to hang out, you’re busy. I thought you wanted to be friends.”

  “I do,” she said and wiped away the tears streaming down her cheeks. “Look. I know it doesn’t make sense, but I’m jealous. I shouldn’t be, but I am. Okay? Are you happy to hear me admit it?”

  My heart sank. “No. That doesn’t make me happy,” I said, taking all the heat off my voice before I let out a long sigh and turned my gaze on the road ahead.

  Two minutes passed while we drove in silence. Beside me, Brooke sniffled and used the back of her hand to wipe the tears from her face. I felt horrible about what Sam had done and cursed myself for letting her go through with it.

  Finally, I turned my gaze on Brooke and spoke as gently as I could. “As a friend, I think you should spend a little time thinking about what you want out of life. I care about you more than you could ever know. I don’t want you to hurt.”

  She sat in silence, staring down at her lap, sniffling as if taking in my words.

  I reached across the cab and opened the glove box in front of her. “Believe it or not, I carry Kleenex with me.” I pulled out a tiny plastic travel container and held it out for her.

  She took a tissue, dabbed her eyes, then looked up at me and smiled. “First it’s tissues in your glove compartment. Tomorrow you’ll be wearing a man-purse.”

  “I’ll never wear a man-purse,” I said, returning her smile. “You’ll drive a minivan before I strap on a man-purse.”

  Brooke’s smile widened, and she laughed. “Keep telling yourself that but if I hear one dad joke from you, our friendship is over.”

  I chuckled and tossed the box of tissues in her lap. “Screw you, Fox.”

  “You’d like to, wouldn’t you?” She smiled sideways at me, then let out a long sigh. “When did life get so fucking complicated?”

  I held out my arm. “Crawl in here for a hug,” I said. “I promise not to grope too much.”

  Brooke scooted across the bench seat while I slid my arm around her shoulder and squeezed lovingly. She leaned into me and let out a second cleansing breath. “How do you have this power over me?”

  “What power?” I asked.

  “You can simultaneously piss me off and make me feel better all at the same time.” She gazed up at me out of those big, beautiful green eyes and destroyed me with a glance. “Trap, I can’t lose you,” she said, her voice quivering with raw emotion.

  My stomach churned and my heart raced, but I held her gaze and fought a nearly overwhelming urge to lean in and kiss her. Now wasn’t the time or the place. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

  She picked up my hand and pulled my arm from around her shoulder, squeezing my hand tenderly. “Don’t get a new partner. I’m not leaving.” She laced her fingers in mine and pulled my hand into her lap, resting it squarely atop her upper thighs.

  I raised an eyebrow. “When did that change?”

  “When I saw Blondie on my boat,” she said, as she brushed her thumb over the back of my hand and deepened her grip. “I’m the first woman in your life. Not her.”

  “She has a name,” I said.

  “Yeah. It’s bimbo.” She pressed in closer, mashing her tits into my side. “Now tell me, what did you find?”

  Chapter 3

  We found Hazel in her office, surrounded by a mountain of books. Most were modern, but some of them were so old the paper looked handmade with cracked leather covers and writing that looked akin to hieroglyphics. She peered up at us as we entered and she lowered her gaze to my hands, then disappointment crept across her face.

  Hazel’s shoulders sagged. “You found nothing?”

  As usual, she looked gorgeous without even trying. Her long brown hair was secured in a loose ponytail and her blue eyes glazed with a simmering intensity that caught me off guard.

  Maybe Brooke was right, and I wasn’t giving Hazel enough credit. For the first time, I became intensely curious about how she spent her free time. “What you did you expect I’d find?” I asked.

  “I hope another section of the treasure map,” Hazel said, sighing as she sank back into her office chair.

  “That old thing?” I waved away her concern. “I found it. Or at least another part of it.”

  Hazel’s eyes bulged, and she pushed up out of her chair. “Where is it?”

  “That’s the thing,” I said. “I don’t have the original. Just a copy.”

  “Let me see,” Hazel said, pushing aside the text books. “Put it on my desk.”

  “The copy is… unusual,” I said. “Let me show you a picture first. I have it on my phone.” I stepped up to the desk and pulled out my phone while Hazel and Brooke gathered around me.

  “Where did you find it?” Hazel asked.

  “It’s a long story,” I said. “Butch had it all along.”

  “And he didn’t tell me?” Hazel frowned. “That’s not like him.”

  “I think he meant it as both a test and a reminder of what’s important.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Brooke asked. “You mean Blondie? Is she important to you?”

  “Who’s Blondie?” Hazel asked.

  “Trap’s new girlfriend,” Brooke said.

  Hazel suddenly deflated and did her best to hide the disappointment in her eyes. She gazed up at me through her puppy dog eyes. “You have a girlfriend?”

  “Yes,” I said, not ducking the question. “Her name is Samantha, and she’s a lovely girl.”

  “She’s twenty,” Brooke said. “And she’s built like a brick shit house.”

  Hazel frowned. “How is a brick shit house built? Is that good or bad?”

  “Ignore her,” I said. “She has a nice figure, and she’s a very nice girl.”

  “Nice girls don’t wear bikinis that skimpy,” Brooke said.

  I glanced at her, frowning. “I’ve seen you in a bikini just as skimpy. Does that make you a bimbo?”

  Brooke blushed and turned back to my phone. “Just show us the map.”

  I pulled up the images app on my phone and found the picture with the map glowing under the black light on Sam’s lower back. The top of her bare ass was visible in the picture, and I quickly zoomed in while Brooke and Hazel exchanged a furtive glance.

  “Butch tattooed it on Sam’s back using invisible ink,” I said.

  “Can I take a closer look?” Hazel asked.

  I handed Hazel the phone while out of the corner of my eye, Brooke’s heavy gaze settled on me. “Can you use the image and combine it with the first piece to make a composite of the treasure map?”

  Hazel pulled the phone up to her face and squinted at the image. “The tattoo is extraordinary,” she said. “Butch really captured a lot of detail.”

  “He had a gift,” I said.

  “A gift he put right in your lap,” Brooke mumbled.

  I turned on her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Butch obviously wants you to be with Sam,” Brooke said. “Some of us apparently weren’t good enough,” she mumbled under her breath, even though I heard everything.

  Hazel sighed and shook her head. “Is there any chance Samantha would come into the lab and let me photograph her with a more powerful camera?”

  “I’m sure she would be happy to strip off her top,” Brooke said.

  I shot Brooke a warning glance. “I’ll ask her,” I said. “In the meantime, I’ll send you this image. Can you get to work on it? If you can infer a location or really anything usable, that’s what we need.”

  Hazel nodded. “I’ll do my best, but get her in here sooner rather than later.”

  “I’m on it,” I said.

  “And you’re on her,” Brooke said again, mumbling under her breath.

  Hazel gazed between us awkwardly, then cl
eared her throat. “I’ve made a few discoveries of my own,” she said. “Care to hear more about the ancient treasure of King Itzcoatl?”

  Brooke raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

  “I’ll explain,” Hazel said. “Sit.” She gestured toward the open seats while she came back around her desk and slipped into her chair. “I found this book, and I’ve been up all night deciphering it.” She turned an ancient book around to face us. “There are missing pages, so I couldn’t translate everything. But I have enough to paint a fairly vivid picture.”

  “Where did the book come from?” I asked, taking a seat before her.

  “Would you believe, it’s been in our archives since the 1960s,” Hazel said. “The original researcher left a lot of notes which provided context, but I’ve made additional discoveries based on my background translating ancient Aztec script.” She turned to a marked page near the back of the tome and opened the book to a vivid drawing rich with a tapestry of colors, shapes, and intricate designs. “This is the cornerstone of everything else.”

  Brook inched forward, completely focused on the drawing. “It’s so beautiful. Who are the women?”

  The drawing depicted the faces of five beautiful women connected by the rich weave of flowing colors and geometrical designs.

  “Those are King Itzcoatl’s five most beautiful wives,” Hazel said. “But we’re jumping ahead.”

  “Five wives?” I raised an eyebrow. “He must have been a busy man.”

  “The king had over thirty wives in his harem,” Hazel said. “But these five were the ones he coveted most.”

  “He had a real harem?” Brooke asked.

  “Oh yes,” Hazel said. “The drawing is the mark of the harem master himself. That image was tattooed on the king’s back. The king himself was a mystical priest who was said to have magical powers bestowed by the Xochiquetzal herself, who was the goddess of fertility. Itzcoatl paid tribute to the goddess in multiple ways. The first was the hording of a rich treasure of artifacts, gold, and jewels he assembled in her name.”

  “The treasure of Xochiquetzal,” I said.

  “Correct,” Hazel said.

  Brooke and I exchanged a thin smile before we turned our attention back to the book.

  “The second way the king paid homage to the goddess was by fathering over a hundred children,” Hazel said.

  “A hundred?” Brooke stared at her wide-eyed.

  “That’s a man after my own heart,” I said.

  “Itzcoatl had a fiery passion for his wives,” Hazel said. “He loved them so intensely, I belive Itzcoatl’s mark, or the mark of the harem master, is at the heart of unlocking Xochiquetzal’s treasure.”

  “Do you really believe he knew magic?” I asked.

  Hazel gazed at me and sighed. “I’m a scientist, Trap. Do I believe it? No. Am I open to having my mind changed? Yes.”

  “Who’s to say the Aztecs didn’t practice magic? We, as a society, have a very diminished understanding of the human spirit and its true power. There are those out there who practice real witchcraft.”

  “Voodoo and black magic?” I asked.

  “White magic,” Brooke said. “There’s nothing evil in loving many women.”

  “Are you volunteering to be in my harem?” I asked her.

  Brooke’s cheeks flushed red. “Why doesn’t it surprise me that your mind devolves to sex.”

  “Sex was very important to the king,” Hazel said. “He believed you couldn’t have love or sex unless you had them both.”

  “He loved all thirty wives?” I asked.

  “According to my research, yes,” Hazel said. “But these five, are the ones he coveted most.” She leaned over the page and pointed to the first woman’s face. “That’s Anacaona, his first wife. She had twelve children and was the king’s greatest love.”

  “That’s such a pretty name,” Brooke said.

  “The king had entombed each of his five wives,” Hazel said. “It’s rumored that their tombs are spread throughout Florida.”

  “Florida? Why?” I asked. “The Aztecs came from Mexico.”

  “Itzcoatl came to Florida for the same reason as Juan Ponce de León,” Hazel said.

  “The fountain of youth,” Brooke said.

  “Exactly,” Hazel said. “Even the Aztecs wanted to believe in the fabled legend.”

  “Who are the rest of the women?” Brooke asked.

  Hazel pointed to each woman as she named them. “That’s Citlalic, Tayanna, Atzi, and Ohtli.”

  We stared at the image for a few moments without speaking, each of us absorbing the information.

  “How does this help us?” I asked.

  “I believe the map itself leads to the tomb of King Itzcoatl,” Hazel said. “The swamps on the map pieces you’ve located lead me to believe it’s a map of ancient Florida. I also believe that many of the king’s descendants are living right here in Florida. Some of them may even have information about the tombs of Itzcoatl’s queens. The book said Itzcoatl handed the information down to their children.”

  My thoughts shifted to Bella and our conversation at the Parrot. Did she know the location of a tomb? “If the king had over a hundred children, there could be thousands of descendants.”

  Hazel sighed. “Right. But I think we’re looking for any person of Aztec descent who may be active in preserving King Itzcoatl’s history.”

  “Do you know anyone like that?” Brooke asked.

  “The Patlee family comes to mind,” Hazel said. “Peter Patlee is a mega-rich philanthropist who’s donated lots of Aztec artifacts to the museums. He owns a bunch of oil rigs out off the coast.”

  “That name rings a bell,” I said.

  “Butch knew him,” Hazel said. “Peter used to come around every so often and pick Butch’s brain regarding the treasure.”

  I snapped my fingers. “That’s right. Maybe I should have a chat with him.”

  With her brow furrowed and her face masked in concentration, Brooke stared at the image on the page. “Do you think…?”

  Hazel and I both turned to face her. “Think what?” I asked.

  Brooke deepened her furrowed brow. “Hazel, you mentioned magic. Do you think this mark of the harem master is necessary to unlock the treasure? Physically I mean.”

  “Maybe.” She shrugged. “I’m a scientist, not a priestess or a witch. To be a harem master, one needs a harem.”

  Hazel and Brooke both turned their gazes on me.

  “Come on, ladies. You can’t really expect me to build a harem. I’m not a king.” I let out a soft chuckle.