February Sucks--The Hermits Take

We kept living in the house as much like a family as possible, but Linda and I slept in different rooms. I could tell the kids knew something wasn't right, and their behavior was affected. I did all I could to alleviate the problem, but it was a lost cause. Throughout the proceedings, I kept thinking about my need for revenge. I heard Linda wasn't the only wife the asshole plucked from Morrisons. That was his favorite hunting ground, and rumor had it he successfully stole a new woman every week.

A glimmer of a plan surfaced in my mind. All I had to do was watch and follow the asshole home when he picked up a new slut. If I was careful, maybe I could get to him and even the score, even if I wasn't as large or muscular as he was. I was angry enough that I didn't care about the legalities either. I had to get my pound of flesh. I just wished I could let him know who was exacting the revenge on him.

I spent the next six weeks in Morrison's watching Asshole. He was usually there Friday and Saturday nights, working the crowd and partying. He didn't score every night, and some of his scores, if he screwed them, came back to finish the night with their friends. I soon realized that the ones that returned were usually the ones he plucked from a group of females out for a girl's night, usually on Friday. On Saturday, he targeted married women there with what I assumed was their husbands. After he made his choice, I left via the front door and watched the parking lot, and then followed when he and his slut left.

I discovered where the asshole lived and did what my army buddies would call a site recon. I didn't see cameras, but I was sure there were some. Hell, in this day and age, half the working stiffs had one or two. His house was plastered with notices he had a security company monitoring. I decided, as much as I would like to hit him at home, I wouldn't. It looked too dangerous. I did chuckle when I thought about me, an ex-squid, doing Army shit!

I now knew what all his vehicles looked like, so the following weekend, I parked well away from Morrison's and walked to the parking lot, not even going into the bar. Sure enough, slightly after eleven, the grinning asshole came waltzing out the door and prancing toward his car. He stopped and cursed when he saw the flat tire on the left front. I had carefully driven a nail into it to help the air escape. While he was pulling his phone from his pocket, I got ready to whack his head as hard as I could with a wooden ball bat. I just couldn't. Call me a wimp, but I couldn't, I hated the asshole and wanted him to pay, but I couldn't hit him in cold blood.

I quietly walked away, took off the mask, and threw the bat beside the building. I approached the woman waiting behind the bar and said, "Lady, you need to think about what you're getting ready to do. That asshole takes a married woman home from here almost every Saturday, and most of them end up divorced. Is getting fucked by a football player worth your marriage?"

"What? I don't know what you mean. I'm waiting on my ride, is all."

The asshole walked up and said, "It'll be a little while, baby. I have a flat. I've called someone to fix it and bring us another car." He gave me a push and said, "What're you doing here, asshole? Leave me and the lady alone."

I walked to the front and went inside the bar. I needed a drink to drown the disgust I felt for myself because I wimped out and didn't beat the Asshole. I saw fuckfaces friends watching a large man wandering around as if he was looking for someone. I intercepted him near the bar and said, "Can I help you? You look like you're hunting something."

"I can't find my wife. She was dancing, and now, she's disappeared."

"Oh, what does she look like?"

The distraught man described the woman outside, and I smiled before I said, "I think I saw her in the alley with Marc Lavalliere. They were occupied, if you know what I mean."

"That son of a bitch," he muttered before he headed for the front door. When he turned, I grabbed his arm and said, "That's a big dude. There's a baseball bat just around the corner beside the building. You might grab it on your way by."

The man pulled his arm away and rushed off. He said, "Thanks, dude," on his way out. He was fast! Asshole's friends didn't even see him leave.

I found an empty stool at the bar and had barely sat down when I heard men yelling and a woman screaming. The bouncers and Asshole's two friends took off for the back. A few other patrons and I left the front and headed toward the noise. When we got to the alley, Asshole Lavalliere was lying in the dirty alley, moaning and whimpering with pain. Unfortunately, my friend of a few minutes ago was lying out beside him, and a crying woman was standing near the door.

It looked like both of the Asshole's knees and his right elbow had been smashed. My buddy raised himself slightly and said, "This'll teach you to pick up married women, asshole. I hope she was worth your career."

I left the parking lot, singing inside. I was playing with the kids Sunday morning, and Linda was reading the local paper when I heard her exclaim, "Oh, no!" I grinned even as a surge of anger flashed through my mind. I suspected she saw an article about the asshole's assault, but I asked, "What's wrong, Linda?"

"Someone severely beat Marc last night in Morrison's parking lot. They say his right elbow and both knees were shattered. He'll probably never play football again and may be unable to walk. Who would do such a thing?"

I laughed and said, "Oh, I don't know. Maybe some poor husband whose wife he fucked? It couldn't have happened to a nicer guy."

"Jim, what's wrong with you? Marc was a great athlete and a fine gentleman. He gave so much time and money to children's charities. He didn't deserve to be mugged in a parking lot. How could you say something like that?"

"It's easy, dear. He was a sleazeball and got everything he deserved. Why are you so upset? Afraid he can't fuck you again or something?"

"Jim, you know that's not why."

Still no remorse. I stopped playing with the kids and went to the office. I called LW and said, "LW, I've had it. She's still defending the asshole and is crying now because someone took his knees out last night. File the papers."

"OK, Jim. I hope you know what you're doing."

I signed a rental agreement for a small apartment nearby Monday after work. I had taken Tuesday off and planned to move after Linda went to work. I had my belongings in my new apartment and was unboxing them when Linda called. She was crying when I answered and said, "Jim, how could you? I thought we were working through your problems, and now you've filed for divorce!"

"Sunday was the last straw. Even after all we went through, you were upset and defended the asshole when you discovered someone had the balls to chastise him for his actions. He got what he deserved, and now you are too. Goodbye, Linda."

I grabbed a bottle of my favorite bourbon and mixed a strong one. I sat and contemplated the last few months with sadness yet a modicum of pride. Two down, I thought. I had made Linda's life miserable for several weeks before pulling the plug, and the asshole was on his way to obscurity and, I hoped, a life of pain. Now for the other six.

Dee was next, and then Jane. If I played it right, I could get revenge on the men at the same time I got their wives. Dee's husband, Dave, was a hot-tempered prick and jealous as he could be. All I had to do was drop hints about her fidelity to some of their friends I still associated with, and he'd snap. I did, and he did. Unfortunately, I got a little more than I anticipated from those comments. He beat Dee severely, and she ended up in the hospital, and he was in jail. Before either of them was released, Dee filed for divorce. I heard the flowers I sent her with a Thinking of You card attached didn't make her feel better. I received a phone call from her that made it plain I wasn't one of her favorite people. Almost as soon as I answered, she said, "You were the one spreading those rumors that upset Dave, weren't you asshole? You weren't happy ruining Linda's life; you had to ruin mine, too, didn't you?"

I laughed and replied, "Why, Dee, what possible reason would I have to do something like that?" I'm sure she heard me laughing before I disconnected.

Jane and Phill were next. I felt slimy and shuddered around Dee. She was sneaky and liked to stir the pot and shift blame to someone else. On the other hand, Jane was smarter and more discrete than Dee. Several times, I got the impression she wasn't above spreading it around, but I didn't know if she did. I decided to see what I could find.

Jane had a mid-level management job and traveled once a month or every six weeks. I tried to discover any shenanigans she pulled in our city and hired a PI to check on her when she traveled. He didn't want to check on her for me because, as he put it, I had no vested interest in her activity. He finally agreed to do the investigation when I told him my company was considering making her a job offer, and we wanted to verify her fitness for the position.

The PI hit pay dirt on her first trip! That woman was wild away from home. She took a different man to her room each of the three nights she was in her destination city. Phil had the report before Jane got home from that trip. I understand the neighbors called the police to quell the disturbance.

After I heard about the divorce, I called dear old Phil and asked about it. He told me the story about receiving the proof anonymously and said, "I can't believe Jane did something like that! I don't understand."

I laughed and replied, "What I don't understand, Phil, is why you're divorcing her. You thought it was fine for Linda to fuck the Asshole but not for Jane to fuck her asshole. What's the difference?"

"This is Jane! And besides, none of the guys she fucked were a star. One was her boss, and the other two were just people from other companies attending the seminar."

"I still don't understand. Suck it up, Phil. Isn't that what you all told me? She didn't take anything from you. She was in another city, and you weren't going to get any pussy those nights."

"You asshole," Phil snarled just before he cut the call. I hoped he heard me laughing.

I was preparing to work on my last targets when they looked me up. I had been enjoying a burger and beer at one of our old hangouts when they sat at my table without asking. Eric no three tried to shake my hand, but I started until he pulled it back. He sighed and said, "Jim, I'm sorry we got involved in your problems with Linda. We didn't want to Make waves and break up the group, but that happened anyway. I suppose you know by now that Phil, Jane, Dave, and Dee are getting divorced. It seems like someone might have it in for them. Each man received information about his wife that didn't show her in a good light.

"You didn't have anything to do with that, did you? Aw, hell, it doesn't matter if you did or not. Cheaters never win, and they get what they deserve. We came in to eat, and when we saw you here, we wanted to apologize for how we treated you and Linda. We understand now and feel awful. I don't believe there was anything we could have done to stop Linda, any more than we could have stopped Jane or Dee if she was cheating, but we should have handled Linda's slip from the path differently and given you more support."

"It sounds like you want to head off something you think might be coming your way. Why else would you come to talk to me now?"

"Look, Jim, we both know you can find something that might upset one of us, but I'm sure you won't find any cheating. After Phil filed, I hired a PI to check on my sweetie, and I'll be darned if she didn't do the same. Neither of the PIs found a thing, and I'll be happy to show you the reports if you want. We mostly wanted you to know we're sorry, and we promise that if we can ever help someone in a similar situation, we will. That's all we wanted to say. We'll find a table now and leave you alone."

They were already standing before I decided to speak again. "Oh, hell, sit back down. You never were as bad as those other four. I'm tired of eating alone and could use the company."

We had a pleasant, if strained, evening catching up. After I got home that evening, I sat thinking about the conversation. I decided I'd done enough. Those two had never been as nasty as the others. They were followers, and even when the others were trying to stir up shit, they didn't. They even looked uncomfortable many times and tried to change the direction of the conversation. I decided to give them a bye.

My divorce from Linda finally went through the courts and became final. Every time I saw her, she looked worse. She became pale, lost weight, and began getting wrinkles on her face, and her hair began greying. She looked as old as her mother within two years of our divorce. She was listless, and the kids said all she did was work and come home to care for them. I was unhappy but nowhere near in as bad a shape as Linda. I felt guilty about her, but every time I thought about chatting with her or inviting her on an outing with the kids, I remembered her disrespect and didn't. I just could not forgive and forget. To this day, she still believes what she did should have been overlooked.