Garage Sales

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Husband and wife accuse each other of cheating.
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K.K.
K.K.
3,040 Followers

GARAGE SALES By KK

Author's Note: Once again I want to thank Techsan for proofing this story for me.

While fitting in the Loving Wives genre this story, however, does not contain any descriptions of sex scenes. I look forward to your comments.

I don't know what it is about garage sales but they seem to have a calming influence on me. It's not as though I am out looking for bargains and I don't go out looking for antiques. I am not sure that I would recognize an authentic antique if saw one anyway; I just like rummaging through old tools and household items. I like to browse and occasionally buy something that interests me. When I am feeling stressed out or angry, I find that getting up early on Saturday morning and going to a few garage sales helps me unwind and that is what I was trying to do on that particular Saturday morning.

By 8:30 that morning, I was already at my third sale of the day. It was a multi-family sale with lots of interesting stuff. They had old record albums, eight track tapes, car parts, furniture and lots of old tools and household gadgets. Next to the driveway, behind a stack of old lampshades, I had discovered a box full of odds and ends with a price tag for two dollars for the whole box. I was sifting through the contents and came across several interesting if not valuable items. There was an old tobacco can full of marbles, three old pulleys, a vacuum cleaner motor, a spool of wire, a broken Dick Tracy cap gun, a jack knife, a couple of sheets of decals of some kind and several other items. I had just pulled out one of the sheets of decals when I heard someone ask me, "Find something interesting?"

I turned to find a young man dressed in torn jeans and a faded Alan Jackson tee shirt standing next to me. Using my superior negotiating skills, I said, "Would you take $1.50 for this box?"

"Yeah, sure."

I was interested in the box because I thought I might have a use for the vacuum cleaner motor and I just wanted the marbles. I also thought that I might have a use for the spool of wire. I figured I would just throw the rest of the stuff out. I held up the sheet of decals that had been in the box and asked, "What do you use these for?"

The young man pointed to the back of his Ford 350 pick up truck parked next to the garage. At first glance, it looked as if there were several bullet holes in the tailgate and a couple more in the rear window. It took a few seconds before I realized that he was showing me that the bullet holes were actually decals that had come from the sheet I was holding. I wondered why anyone would want their truck to look like it had bullet holes in it.

I paid the guy for the box and carried it over to my car. As I dropped the box in the trunk, my thoughts flashed back to the reason that I was so agitated that morning.

Things had been a little strained between my wife Dee and myself for a while. It had started six weeks earlier when I stopped at Cody's Tap Room for drinks with friends from work. My friends and I stop for drinks about once a month and I would normally call Dee and tell her that I'd be home late but for some reason I forgot to call that night.

I used to ask Dee to join us but she doesn't like going to Cody's. It's kind of a dump and it is located in a bad neighborhood. I liked it when Dee came with me because she kept me out of trouble. I have a tendency to drink more than I should when I am out with my friends. I usually end up having to take a taxi home and often in the morning I can't remember how I got home.

That Friday night was a typical night at Cody's for me. I got so drunk that I had to take a cab home at 1:00 AM and Dee was pissed. It wasn't bad enough that I had forgotten to call her, I was so hung over most of Saturday morning that I didn't accomplish any of my normal chores and when Dee asked me what I had done the night before I couldn't remember much past ten o'clock. Dee let me know that she was getting tired of my coming home so drunk after going out with my friends. I wasn't too worried though; I knew that by Sunday everything would be back to normal.

That night we went to a party that was attended by several of the guys I had been out drinking with the night before. They all seemed to think it was funny that I got so drunk that I couldn't remember a lot of what went on that night so they began to tease me by making innuendos that I might have done something improper with Kate, one of the barmaids at Cody's Tap Room. Kate is a hot looking blond with big breasts and a great ass but she didn't have much else going for her. I knew that drunk or sober I would never make a play for Kate.

Kate was nice to look at but she didn't interest me in any other way and besides, I loved Dee too much to risk my marriage for a few minutes of illicit sex. Even though I didn't remember much, I knew that I would never have done what they were hinting at so I just laughed at their silly jokes. The problem was that Dee didn't know they were joking. None of the guys was stupid enough to say anything to me in front of Dee but she overheard some of the things they said. She heard Jack Stone say that he saw me follow the barmaid into the lady's room around midnight and that we didn't come out for at least twenty minutes.

Apparently Dee stewed over this for a couple of days before she confronted me. She actually accused me of having sex with Kate. Nothing I could say would convince her otherwise. I had Jack Stone call Dee and explain that it was just a joke but she didn't believe him. The fact that I had already told Dee that I couldn't remember much about that night didn't help in my defense.

I decided that I would have to wait till Dee calmed down a little and then try to talk this out with her. I was sure that in time she would realize that Jack and the other guys were just joking with me. Well, she didn't calm down.

*****

I am a buyer for a chain of sporting goods stores so I often get different items of sporting equipment "to sample." These are supposedly given to me to help me with my buying decisions. I always have several baseball bats and gloves, sets of golf clubs and some sports apparel stored in my garage. There is too much stuff for me to use but I can't sell because it would be unethical for me to profit from these gifts. So, when the garage is full I usually donate a lot of the stuff to local schools or colleges. This makes the recipients happy and keeps me out of trouble.

One night at dinner Dee started talking to me about one of her girlfriends at work. I was so happy that she was talking to me about something other that my supposed dalliance that I listen to her with great interest.

"My friend, Sharon, was telling me that her son wants to try out for the golf team at school but he doesn't have a set of clubs of his own to use. Sharon is a single mother and just can't afford to buy him a good set of clubs," Dee said.

"Have they tried our store?" I said, "We do sell a lot of second hand equipment. They might be able to find something he likes."

"She said they haven't had any luck finding anything in their price range."

"What's their price range?"

"Two hundred dollars."

"Good luck finding anything in that price range," I said.

"I was just thinking, couldn't you sell them a set of the clubs you have in the garage? You usually just give them away."

I guess I should have seen that coming. Dee never really understood why I wouldn't sell the stuff my vendors gave me. I felt it was unethical to accept these items and then turn around and sell them. That's why I always donated them to a school. But Dee was presenting me with a chance to get back on her good side so I took it.

"I can't sell the clubs to her but I'll let you give them to her and say that we are donating them to a worthy cause. Just make it clear to your friend that she can never tell anyone where she got the clubs."

Dee actually got out of her chair and came over and kissed me on the cheek.

"Thanks, honey," is all she said and then left the room.

After dinner, I went out to the garage to see what I had. I had five different sets of Calloway clubs but I had already promised to give those to the golf coach at the local college. The only other set I had was a full set of Taylor Made clubs with a bag. The bag was a special addition copy of the American Ryder Cup team's bag. The clubs and bag were worth more than $1500. I thought that was a bit much to give this kid but I didn't have any other sets available. I could probably get another set of clubs if this kid was willing to wait another week. Then I figured, 'what the hell?' I wasn't going to use them. I would just store them in the garage and eventually give them to one of the schools on my list so I decided to let Dee give the clubs to her friend's son.

I put the clubs into the trunk of Dee's car and went back into the house where I found Dee watching television.

"I put a set clubs in your trunk. You can give them to your friend tomorrow."

"I hope you aren't just pawning off some junk on him," she said.

I didn't like the tone of her comment.

"It happens to be a top of the line set of clubs but, if you are going to take that attitude with me, I might just as well keep them for myself."

"I'm sorry, honey, I didn't mean it to sound that way. I was just hoping that you could give him something nice. Something he can be proud of."

"Believe me, this kid will wet his pants when he see these clubs."

Dee smiled at me and said thanks. There was no more conversation after that but it was the first night since my night out with the guys that we didn't get into an argument over my supposed behavior that night.

After that night, things seemed to be getting better between us. By Friday night, I felt that we might even get back to having sex. After that, I planned to do whatever was necessary to convince Dee that I had never had sex with the barmaid at Cody's.

At 5:30 that Friday afternoon, I was getting ready to go home and thought that maybe I could get Dee to go out to dinner with me so I called her office. After seven rings, her phone was answered by a woman's voice that I didn't recognize.

"Diane Wilson's phone. Can I help you?"

"Is Diane around?"

"No, you just missed her. She just left with a group from the office to go over to the Brass Rail for drinks."

I thanked her and hung up.

I found that unusual. I couldn't remember a time that Dee went out for drinks with her work associates that she didn't call me and tell me to join them. I had been to so many of their gatherings at the Brass Rail some of her associates thought I was another employee of their company.

I double-checked my office phone and then my cell phone to make sure I didn't miss a message from her but there were no messages. I decided that it must have been an oversight on her part and that she would probably expect me to be there and, even if she didn't, I was going to be there anyway.

The Brass Rail is actually closer to my office than Dee's so I got there before she and her group and I was sitting at the bar with a beer when she and her friends walked in. Dee saw me immediately and walked straight over to me. I wondered if she even realized that she forgotten to call me. I was about to find out.

"What are you doing here?" Dee asked.

I couldn't believe it. She didn't want me there.

"I just stopped in for a beer," I said.

"Did I call you and tell you to join us here?"

"No."

"Then why would you think I wanted you to come here tonight? I let you go out with your friends and I didn't interfere so why can't you give me the same courtesy?"

I couldn't believe the way she was acting. I was ready to rip into her when I noticed that all of her friends were watching us. I decided to back off and deal with her later.

"I didn't come here to ruin your evening," I said. "I didn't even know you were coming here tonight. I just stopped for a beer on my way home. I was as surprised to see you here as you were to see me. Go ahead and join your friends. I'll sit here and finish my drink and go home."

I watched Dee and her friends go into the back room while I sat at the bar doing a slow burn. I was so angry that my hand was shaking. I needed to calm down so I did what I always do to calm myself, I ordered a double bourbon. I had finished my second double bourbon and had put away a half of my third beer when I decided it was time to head home.

As I walked toward the door, I peeked into the back room. Some of Dee's work associates were seated around a few tables they had pulled together and some were on the dance floor. Dee was among those on the dance floor. I didn't know the guy she was dancing with but I did know they were dancing way too close together for my comfort. The guy she was dancing with was tall, over six feet, maybe 180 pounds. I guess women might consider him to be handsome; me, I considered him an asshole. He was putting the move on a married woman, which makes him an asshole in my book.

Logically I knew that this guy wasn't my problem. Dee was my problem but that didn't change the fact that I wanted to go into the back room and kick his ass. Prudence being the better part of valor, I decided to get out of there and go home before I really messed things up.

Just as I was about to head out the door, two young women came in. One of them looked into the back room and said, "There they are."

I didn't know either of these women so I guessed that they must be new employees. I stopped them before they went into the back room.

"Do you know those people in there?" I asked.

Both girls said that they did.

"That tall guy on the dance floor. Is his name Gary Benson?" I asked.

"No, his name is Carl Wentworth," one of the girls replied.

"Good thing I asked before I went in there and made a fool of myself," I said. "Thanks."

I stepped out of the way and let the girls pass and I headed out the door.

Dee came home at 11:00 PM that night. She seemed quite sober considering how long she had been out. I wanted to rip into her about the way she acted toward me when she came into the bar but decided to wait until we were both completely sober. Like I said, Dee appeared to be sober, but I wasn't. I may have left a half beer on the bar when I left the Brass Rail but that didn't mean I was done drinking for the night. I knocked off three more beers and a large Scotch when I got home.

I slept till nearly ten the next morning. When I got down to the kitchen, there was no coffee in the pot. I was just starting to make a pot when Dee walked into the kitchen.

She obviously had already showered and was dress to go out somewhere.

"Why didn't you make coffee this morning?" I asked.

"I did but since you were dead to the world I only made enough for me."

I had the feeling that she was ready for a fight so I backed off.

"I am making a pot now. Would you like some?"

"No. I have to go. I have to work on a presentation I have to give next week. I'll be gone most of the day. I'll stop on my way home to pick up some groceries. What do you want for dinner tonight?"

"How about you?"

She almost smiled. "I am not on the menu. Pick something else."

"Okay, I'll have chicken then."

Dee picked up her car keys and started for the door and then stopped.

"What are you going to do today?" she asked.

"I don't know. I hadn't planned anything yet. I was thinking about going to some garage sales but I think I got up too late. Why?"

"I just thought that today might be a good day for you to start cleaning out the attic."

"I'll think about it."

"Well, don't just sit around all day drinking beer and watching ball games. Try to do something productive."

I had to smile as she walked out the door. That was the Dee I knew. Always trying to get me to accomplish something on the weekends. Well, since I was trying to get back into her good graces, I decided to start cleaning out the attic.

The house we lived in I had inherited from my grandfather on my mother's side. He died shortly after Dee and I married and left me his house. The house was about a mile outside of the city and was located on twenty-five acres of wooded land. In the middle of the woods, a few hundred yards behind the house, there was a pond I used to fish in when I was a kid. I spent a lot of time at my grandfather's house when I was growing up and I was very close to him. He knew I loved the place so he left it to me in his will.

My grandfather always kept his house neat and always took care of any needed repairs but he was a bit of a pack rat and the attic was full of boxes of things my grandfather couldn't seem to part with.

Dee and I had been living in the house for almost five years and I had yet to start going through the stuff in the attic. I guess the time had finally come.

After I drank my coffee and had some breakfast, I went up to the attic. I started right at the top of the stairs with the first box I could reach. It was full of old clothes that smelled of years of dust. So I took the whole box down stairs and put it in the trash and went back up. In two hours, I got rid of twenty boxes. As I got farther from the stairs, I started finding some interesting things. I started to visualize the garage sale I would have.

By 3:30, I had cleaned out about half of the attic. I was tired, my back hurt from so many trips downstairs carrying heavy boxes and I had inhaled about as much dust as a man can handle in one day. I decided to look in one more box and then call it a day. As I started to open the box, the side split and the contents spilled out. The box was full of old detective novels. As I was restacking the books that had fallen out of the box, I found a small wooden box that was about the size of one of the larger books. Inside the box, I found a thirty-eight-caliber pistol. It was the kind you always hear referred to as a snub nose .38 because of the short barrel.

I never knew that my grandfather had this gun. He had a rifle and a shotgun that Dee made me sell as soon as we moved into the house. Dee hated guns and I had no use for them so I sold them to a dealer in town. The .38 had been packed in grease so I put the gun back into its box and carried it downstairs and out to my workshop. I cleaned all of the grease off the gun and out of the barrel and then I examined the weapon carefully. I don't know much about guns but as far as I could tell everything seemed to work properly.

I debated what I should do with it but in the end I knew that Dee would never allow a gun in the house so I planned to ask a friend that collected guns how much he thought the gun would be worth. I guessed that it might be old enough to qualify as an antique but I wasn't sure. I locked the gun in my tool cabinet and went back into the house.

With my work for the day completed, I went to get a beer but there weren't any. That was something I was going to have to remedy. I got my keys and headed into town to buy beer. As I was driving, I was thinking about the gun and wondering if it still worked so I took a little detour and drove across town to one of our sporting goods stores and went back to the hunting section. I asked Al Banister, the department manager if the store stocked ammo for a .38.

"No. We don't carry any hand guns or ammo for hand guns at this store. Sorry."

"No problem. I found an old .38 of my grandfather's that I want to sell. I just wanted to find out if it works first."

"If that's all you want to do, I can fix you up," Al said. "I have a .38 that I carry in my car. We can slip out to my car and I can give you a few rounds so that you can test your weapon."

Al gave me six rounds from a full box of ammo that he had under the seat of his car. I thanked him but made a mental note to keep an eye on him.

K.K.
K.K.
3,040 Followers