She sent me the address of the wedding suite.
A blatant provocation.
My fingers tightened around the phone. I got up, drove to the address, and parked nearby.
The entire building blazed with light. Crimson drapes hung from every surface, and an enormous decorative monogram at the entrance gleamed under the spotlights.
Otis had already changed into a groomsman's suit and stood at the center of a crowd of buddies, the scene loud and lively.
Melvin raised his glass and clinked it against Otis's, teasing him:
"I sacrificed my own marriage for the sake of your love with Vivian. You'd better make it up to me!"
Otis's lips curved. "Relax. You'll be well rewarded."
Someone in the group spoke up:
"Otis, if you love Vivian that much, why not just come clean to your wife, divorce her, and marry Vivian?"
Before Otis could answer, Melvin beat him to it:
"A man of Otis's caliber, circling around one woman his whole life? Where's the fun in that? Why else did he bust his ass making money? Keep the wife at home, enjoy the women outside. Best of both worlds."
Otis drained his glass in one swallow, saying nothing to contradict him.
I sat in the car, nails digging so deep into my palms they nearly broke skin.