An Unexpected Reaction

She kept up her patter as she showed her the house, three bedrooms, nice big lot, small patio.

"Excuse me for just a moment while we confer, will you?" she said to the realtor, before grabbing me into the living room.

"Look honey, a fireplace."

She wasn't going to be distracted. She backed me against the mantle. "What the fuck is going on here?"

"Really, Beck, isn't it obvious? We're house hunting. I don't want to start married life in an apartment. Besides, when we have kids we're gonna need the space."

I don't think she heard much past married life, before she launched into my arms. I scraped the back of my head on the stone mantle, and didn't care at all.

Then she cried. Then she giggled. Then she got serious. "Where's my ring?"

"I haven't got it yet. I thought we'd pick it out together."

The realtor came looking for us, and heard the last. She laughed.

"What did I tell you, dear. Clueless. I swear, if we didn't guide them, the species would disappear. Are you up to looking at a few more houses?"

Up for it? She nearly dragged both of us out. I got to sit in the back while they talked location, school districts, shopping access. I stopped listening after five minutes.

We looked at four more, before we went back to our car. She wanted to look at that one once more. When we got to the living room, she looked at the mantle, smiled, and said "this one."

It took a week to do the paperwork. Our business was booming. We had hired another associate, and Allen was training a new salesman.

With the hefty down payment I was able to make, we were able to move in less than a month. Of course, we didn't bring any of our old furniture. I let her go until she got to the patio and the garage.

"Mine," I said, defiantly. She laughed and agreed.

I spent a little money and installed an outdoor kitchen and living area. Even had a clay oven built. I loved it. We ended up cooking outside ten months out of the year on a regular basis, and sporadically the other two.

Cindy was a little jealous, and before we knew it, we had new neighbors a block over. Made it easier to share rides to work. I swear they wore a groove in the sidewalk going back and forth.

Things went great for three years. Cindy couldn't have children, so they went through the long, frustrating process of adoption. The patience paid off when they got a set of twin girls, eighteen months old. We held a little party to celebrate that turned into a tearfest for the girls while we learned what it was like to watch two active toddlers.

"Your life is over," I laughingly told Allan.

"No it's not," he said, through obvious tears, "It's just beginning."

I was really quiet as we walked home. So was Becky. I stopped at the end of our driveway.

"When?" I asked.

"In four months. That way I won't have to carry him or her through the heat of the summer."

The neighbors must have thought we were crazy, on our knees in the drive, hugging and crying.

...

Right after that conversation the economy started tanking. Six months later Becky's company suddenly declared bankruptcy. She didn't get severance pay, she didn't get her vacation pay, nothing. She was pretty distraught.

"Calm down honey. A lot of people are going under, including a few of our biggest competitors. We're getting a lot of interest from their old clients. I may have to work a little harder, but we'll be fine. And as good as you were at your job, someone will snap you up."

The economy got worse, and she never found another job in her field. No one wanted to pay her what she was worth despite her experience when they could get an MBA straight out of school for half as much.

She fretted, she brooded. She and Cindy joined a gym close enough they could walk to, pushing the kids in the strollers. This kept her going for a few months. Never really out of shape, she was like a rock after a couple of months.

She started volunteering for some big causes, hoping she could network a job out of it. I didn't like it because she would be gone almost every other weekend, to some charity event or another, but I kept quiet, thinking it was doing her some good.

One Friday she came in at two a.m., waking me from a dead sleep with a first class blowjob. As soon as I was erect and awake, she mounted me, riding me hard. When she finally collapsed, gasping for breath, I asked what brought it on.

"I got a job! I'm the new assistant event

coordinator for the Sloan Group. Tonight was my tryout, and they liked what they saw. They represent four major charities. It's not as much as I was making, but close enough to start."

She was on an emotional high, and I cuddled her, making the right noises.

...

It had been almost a year and she still wasn't pregnant. We went to the doctor.

He looked over the tests he'd ordered.

"You're both fine. Everything is in good working order. There's no reason why you won't be pregnant soon. My guess, it's the stress she's been under because of the economy. Animal birth rates go down if the food supply is threatened or there is an unusually large number of predators in their range. It's the same with women. Birth rates are low in stressful environments, like war zones, for instance. Go home. Practice a lot. It'll happen."

But it didn't happen. She came to me the next day during lunch. "Honey, I need you to do something for me."

"Sure baby. What do you need?"

She fidgeted for a bit.

"I want you to let me go back on birth control, for another year. Let me get comfortable in my new job, and build up enough time I won't lose it over a pregnancy. Just a year honey, I promise."

I was actually a little relieved. The economy was still going downhill and I didn't see an upswing for quite a while, so I agreed.

We were actually doing a lot more work, picking up the slack from failed companies. It was tougher than ever. If we couldn't do it for what they wanted to pay, there was another ad agency just down the street desperate for business.

Part of her job was attending the events, to make sure they went smoothly. I went when I could, but more and more she went alone. She told me not to worry, since she was working anyway.

As the husband of one of the key players and a business owner, I was sort of expected to contribute to as many of the charities as they represented as possible.

We picked out the two we thought most worthwhile, and committed to them. We even sent someone occasionally to represent the company at the events. Allan and Cindy went a few times, but he was as overworked as I was, so he backed off.

The economy was finally starting to turn around. I could see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Beck had been at her job for a year, and had gotten a small promotion and raise. We started talking about a family again.

I talked Aida and her husband into representing the company at some of the events. It kept our name in focus and allowed Allan and I to work more. Aida had developed nicely, to the point that she was being stalked by competitors. We had a long talk about it. I told if she got a truly good offer I wouldn't hold it against her if she took it. She assured me none had made an attractive enough offer to even consider moving.

"Yet," I laughed.

I noticed she seemed a little down, and seemed to be avoiding me unless it was absolutely necessary. I figured she had finally gotten that good offer. I called her in for a little chat.

...

"You haven't been yourself lately, Aida. If I've noticed, so has every one else. Something you want to talk about?"

Aida was an attractive black woman. Tall, striking, usually smiling. If you got past her looks you discovered she had a steel trap for a mind.

She looked down, smoothing her dress, one of her stress signs.

"I thought a lot about what I'm about to tell you. My husband has been pushing me to talk to you, so here it is. It might not matter. You might already know. If not, please don't be angry with us."

I figured this was it, she was giving me notice.

She pulled out her tablet, fiddled with it for a bit, and handed it to me.

A series of photographs. Of Becky, and a man I didn't recognize. There were shots of them laughing, holding hands, kissing. One of them dancing, with his hands on her ass. He had her dress eased up until the bottoms of her cheeks were showing. One in a semi dark room, in a fierce liplock.

"These were taken over the last three events we've been to. I don't think she's realized who I am, or that I work for you. The last time she knew I was there, she spoke to me, and was extremely professional. Maybe you knew, but I didn't want to be the one to bring it to your attention if you didn't. Please don't fire me."

I was in shock. This had to be some kind of gag. I'd go home and Becky would laugh, all our friends would jump out, and she'd say 'Gotcha!' and explain it all away.

But I knew, I KNEW, that it was exactly like it looked. I sat for a minute, before telling a nervous Aida her job was quite safe, and asked if she would transfer the images to my computer and burn me a hard copy. She stood.

"You didn't know, did you? I'm so sorry. If you need anything, ask."

She came round and hugged me, the first physical contact we'd had in all the time we'd work together.

"Again, I'm sorry."

"I am to," I said, "please don't say anything about this."

She promised and fled the office, scared of the look on my face.

Despite being an idea man, I was stumped. I did what I always did when I approached any problem, I did research. All I had now were pictures from an amateur. I wanted hard evidence.

...

His name was Johnny Walker, and he hated scotch.

"I should have been named Jim or Jack, I'm a bourbon man through and through."

He came highly recommended to me as one of the best in his business, so I hired him. It only took two weeks to get me everything I wanted.

He met at a bar owned by one of his friends. There were rooms for private parties, and we used one of those. I didn't want to be seen going into his office, or him coming into mine. He agreed totally. I'd even bought a burner phone I kept locked in my desk to use to communicate with him. I know, it sounds paranoid. After all, if it was nothing, I didn't want Becky getting wind of the fact that I had her investigated. It would not lead to good things.

"It's all here," he said, giving me a small briefcase, "pictures, video, interviews with friends and coworkers. Some of them didn't even know she was married. Apparently she doesn't wear her rings at work. They weren't particularly careful. I'm sorry."

I handed him a check and picked up the case. He stopped me.

"You're not going to do anything stupid are you? Scorched earth, violence? You've been awful calm about this and in my business calm is kind of scary. It's not worth going to jail for. Cut your losses and move on if you can't forgive her."

"I'm not going to hurt her, or him. Physically, at least. They both went into it with their eyes open. Surely they considered all that could happen if they got caught."

I paused, thinking.

"I'm not going to hide money, make ridiculous demands, play games. And I'm not going to fight to keep her, I should never have to be in the position to have to fight for her, and by her actions there's nothing to fight for. She broke the marriage of her own free will. I'm just going to walk away. Does that make me a wimp?"

"No it doesn't. It makes you a man of good judgement, someone calm and logical under pressure. A rarity in these situations. And they probably didn't consider the consequences at all. Few do. Got a lawyer?"

I shook my head. "I thought I'd wait for the report."

He wrote something on a notepad and handed it to me. "I work a lot with these three. They're all good. The first is a shark, he isn't happy until blood is spilled. The second is the guy you want if you want to stop a divorce, not a good choice in your situation. The third guy is your man. He doesn't like drama, likes to keep things clean and calm as possible, while doing his best for your interests. If you don't have anyone lined up, give him a call. Mention me, and you get a discount."

He walked to the door. Turning, he gave me a few more words of advice.

"If I were you, I wouldn't watch the DVD or look at the pictures. It won't help your case, and it will burn memories into you it will take years to erase. Same with the report. You already know all you need to know. However, read the contents of the red envelope. There's some pretty interesting information about your friends and their knowledge of her affair. And per your instructions, we won't turn the phone tap off for another two weeks. Again, I urge you not to listen to them. Call if you need anything else."

I took the case to my office, extracted the red envelope, and locked the case, then locked it in the bottom of my file cabinet. I'd take his advice, for right now. I did call the third man on the list and set up a consultation.

Paul Whitfield ran a small, three partner office. The offices were in an old building that still had the ornate moldings with high ceilings and dangling fans. He saw me looking and grinned.

"We own the building. I insisted we keep the fans. Give the place character."

I liked him instantly. He warmed up during the meeting, and when we were done I had a divorce lawyer I felt I could trust. He approved of the amicable split, said he could do better on the settlement, this wasn't a no fault state, but it should make it easier for everyone. If she didn't fight.

"Think she will?"

"I have learned recently that I have no idea what she is thinking, or doing. When can we file?"

"Thursday or Friday, whichever you think best."

I thought about it.

"Can I have it done on a Saturday evening?"

He looked at me.

"This isn't going to stray into getting stupid territory, is it?"

I grinned, for the first time.

"Probably. Hold off until Monday, serve her then. She should be home by seven."

"Not at her office?"

"No. Let her keep a little dignity. Besides, if she's fired, wouldn't I have to support her?"

"Smart man," he grinned, and shook my hand, before going back into lawyer mode.

"Call me if you think of anything you forgot to tell or ask me. I thank you for your business, even if it's sad business. I'll call right before she gets served, if you want."

...

I got my ducks in a row.

I looked around and found a nice two bedroom house on the next town over. I thought about an apartment or condo, but enjoyed houses better. It would mean a thirty five minute commute, but it was a quiet neighborhood, and I didn't think she'd look for me this far out.

I had read the red folder. It made me very, very angry to know how many people I knew were aware of or helped cover for her affair. Their time would come, especially four of them.

I played nice at work, kept up the farce at home for the rest of the week. She was feeling amorous Thursday, letting me warm her up for the weekend, I guess. By now she was just pussy to me. I didn't necessarily fuck her, but it wasn't exactly loving either. She got off, I got off, then I got off her.

"You seemed a little distracted tonight, honey. Do I not do it for you anymore?"

She acted playful, but I sensed an undertone of fear in her words.

"You've always done it for me, Beck. I'm just tired and stressed. Let's get some sleep."

I tried, but I just couldn't make myself cuddle, so I turned over and faked sleep. She snuggled to me, spooning.

"Love you, baby."

I didn't answer, still pretending to be asleep. I think she could tell I was faking, but she didn't say anything.

...

In the end, I just couldn't stand it, straying right into what Paul called 'stupid territory'. I waited until almost an hour after the event was in progress before walking through the doors. I stood on the fringe of the crowd, watching. They held hands, snatched a little kiss now and then. The band started up and I watched them sway across the floor. He was a better dancer than I'd ever be.

Other than that, I didn't see it. He wasn't as tall as me, or as toned. No accounting for taste or lack thereof, as my great aunt was fond of saying. I was almost to them when I stopped dead.

Cindy. She appeared right in front of them. They hugged, and they all laughed. I wonder if Allan knew she was here?

I was like Moses parting the Red Sea. One look at my face and people got out of the way. Becky must have noticed how the crowd was moving back. She turned, still holding his hand, and looked dead into my eyes.

She froze for a few seconds, before trying to form words and let go of his hand. He grinned, the happy grin of a guy who's life is good, and held on.

"Friend of yours, hon?" He said, finally letting go and holding out his hand.

"No," I snarled, "Husband."

He paled and took two steps back. I looked at Beck.

"Aren't you going to introduce us?"

"Jace, honey, it's not what..."

"What it looks like? Give it up. It's exactly what it looks like. My wife keeping company with another man. How's that for putting it politely? I could have said the asshole the bitch is screwing. The guy she's hanging the horns on me with. The scum sucking bottom feeder who has no problem fucking a married woman."

I was getting louder, and I drew myself in, breathing deeply. Her honey was trying to disappear into the crowd. Quite a few were listening. I called out to him, drawing even more attention.

"Where do you think you're going? You got the balls to bang her but not stand by her when shit hits the fan? Doesn't say much for you, does it? But don't worry, she's yours now. I got no more use for her."

Becky was pulling my arm, begging me to calm down and we'd find a place to talk. I removed her hand, a little forcefully.

"I know, Beck. I KNOW. Don't try to spin it. Don't insult me by trying to explain it. We're through. Completely, understand? I left you a little something on the dining room table, It should bring back fond memories for you."

I looked at Cindy, standing beside her and looking completely terrified.

"And you. Don't you ever speak to me again, not in this lifetime. If we're in the same room it would be better you stay as far away from me as possible, or leave right away. No wait, I do want to hear one thing. Did Allan know?"

She hung her head. That told me all I needed to know.

"Then tell him we're through as partners. He can buy me out, or I'll put my half up for sale."

...

It hit the fan big time. She called. Allan called. Cindy called. Over and over. I didn't answer, erased the messages. I kept my car in my little garage with the door down. I was walking distance to a grocery store and a bar. Didn't like the bar, but the store was fine.

I shocked the shit out of Allan by showing up at the office Monday. He started to talk but I shut him down.

"I know you knew. Cindy as good as told me, being the true, loyal friend she is. I'll never forgive Cindy for helping her. And before you say it, she was helping her at the very least by keeping her secret. So tell your wife it would be in her best interest to stay away from the office, and me."

"If she insists on being here, I won't. I'll let the business go down the drain and walk away, Allan. It would be very easy. This includes Becky, her lover, or any other of our so called friends. Leave it alone."

I had already called the police about restraining orders. They told me to talk to my lawyer. By nine Becky and Cindy were pounding on my office door. I called Allan.

"If you want to stay in business, make them leave. Now. Or I'll be the one leaving, and I won't come back."

I could hear a lot of the argument through the door. Becky was refusing to leave, and Cindy was supporting her. Allan was trying to make them understand.