End Around

End Around

By blackrandl1958

It's been a minute since I wrote a LW story. If you read my stories, you know everything is a hybrid romance. Not your thing? This is a good time to click the back button. My comments section is an asshole-free zone. If you're an asshole, don't bother. I'll just delete it. I was feeling LW, so here it is, back on my bullshit. I must thank my peeps. Harddaysknight is my mentor and gives me critical review. My editors and readers are Hale1, SBrooks103x, Cagivagurl, Stev2244 and Hooked1957. I thank you all. Randi.

"No, I don't think I will," I said.

She looked at me oddly. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you mentioned me being here when you get back and you'll tell me all about it," I said. "I won't be here, therefore the 'telling' part won't happen."

"Where will you be?" she asked.

"Elsewhere," I said.

She got that pouty look. "What do you mean, 'elsewhere?'"

"None of your business," I said.

"You're behaving like a child," she informed me. "Grow up. This is the 21st century. Things have changed."

"I have no doubt that's true," I conceded. "I, however, have not changed. Well, I have a little grey in my facial hair, but still me. You, on the other hand, seem to have changed substantially. They aren't good changes. Very unattractive."

She glanced down at herself. Physically, I guess she hadn't changed. She was still a smoke show. If anything, she was more gorgeous than the day we met: boobs a little bigger, a little more curve to her hips, ass a little bouncier and still with that epic face. She still had all that hair, as black as a raven's wing, and her eyes were still that shocking hazel. Yes, she was quite the package, on the outside. Apparently, it was all inner change.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well, there is the 'I'm meeting someone for dinner' thing. A man, you informed me, and you declined to tell me his name. This seems like a 'change' to me."

"Oh. Well, that's nothing," she said. "I told you, I love you more than ever. Nothing about this has anything to do with the way I feel about you."

"I see. Well, I can't say the same," I told her.

"Explain that."

"Well, I loved you more than ever about an hour ago," I told her. "That has steadily been decreasing every moment since. Now my feelings are more leaning toward the disgust area, rather than the love area."

Her features assumed her "hurt" look. I knew it well. "That's very disappointing," she said.

"Such is life," I said. "I am constantly disappointed. I fully expected to shoot 85 on the golf course yesterday, but I three-putted on 11 and got an 87."

She now looked confused. "Why are you talking about golf?"

"It's a very disappointing game, sometimes," I said. "You mentioned being disappointed. I just thought I should commiserate with an anecdote of my own. That was all I called to mind."

My flippant attitude annoyed her; I could tell. "Barnes, I'm leaving in 20 minutes," she said. "I think you need to take me seriously and try to understand."

"Oh, I am taking you very seriously," I said. "That's sort of a problem, though, Collins. I've kind of realized you aren't a very serious person."

Her pride was wounded. I suspected she believed herself to be a very serious person. She owned her own business, made nearly as much money as I did and was educated, independent and beautiful. Most people took her seriously, I'm sure.

"I have no idea what would make you say that," she said. "Barnes, I'm going out. I know you don't like that, but you'll see that nothing is going to change between us. I'm going to make sure you're deliriously happy. This is very selfish of me, but I do have a rationale; I have justified it to myself. You don't understand that, but once you understand, everything is going to be the same for you."

"You're wrong," I said.

"What am I wrong about?" she asked.

"You're wrong that 'nothing is going to change.' Everything is going to change. In fact, it already has changed," I told her.

"What has changed?" she wondered.

"Well, you changed, your attitude toward me changed. You have built up delusions in your mind. That's changed. The way I feel about you has changed. Other things haven't changed yet, but they will change."

"Like what?" she challenged.

"Well, for one thing, what do you think Silvia and Beck are going to think about their parents being divorced?"

She gasped. "What the fuck, Barnes? What are you talking about? We're not getting divorced, and what we do between us is none of their business."

"Yes, I agree. Well, not about the 'not getting divorced' part, but about the 'what we do between us.' Unfortunately, you're forgetting about the fact that it isn't what is happening 'between us,' and what is happing between you and some unnamed dude."

"I can see you're going to make this difficult," she said. "Barnes, I'm going to postpone this and we're going to sit down and solve these issues."

"No, we're not," I said. "I'm going out."

"I think this is more important than anything you have planned," she said. "I'm not going on something I arranged. I would think you would do the same."

"Oh, I didn't have anything planned. This is spur-of-the-moment. I just decided just a minute ago," I said.

She looked like she was going to argue with me.

"Collins, you're too late," I told her. "I don't know how much too late, but the moment you began to think I was someone who would put up with your shit, the moment you lost your respect for me as a man and your husband, that's when it became too late."

"None of that is true," she practically shouted. "I have never lost any respect for you."

"The problem is, I don't believe you," I said. "Everything you've done since you got home has convinced me that it is true, and I can't be unconvinced. I'm going out, Collins. You might as well go on your date. I'm done."

I walked away, grabbed my jacket, wallet and keys, went to the door and started out.

"Wait!" She came running toward the door, as best she could in four-inch heels. She didn't make it. I closed the door and got in the truck. By the time she got the door unlocked and got outside, I was pulling onto the street.

I decided to see what Beck was doing. She lived about four miles from us, and I snapped her. "WYD?"

"Netflix and chill," she answered right away.

"Care for some company?" I asked.

She sent me a heart. "I'll make popcorn."

She was curled up under a throw on her sofa when I got there. Davey met me at the door and nearly knocked me down. When 160 pounds of Dogue de Bordeaux presses itself against your legs in an attempt to bury you in affection, it makes an impression.

"Hey, buddy!" I managed to stay upright and gave him a good scratching and rubbing, while he wiggled all over, drooled on my pants and snored his extreme pleasure. Getting in Beck's place always takes 10 minutes, until you can get Davey over his excitement at visitors coming. By the time I made it to the sofa, Beck had me a glass of wine poured and popcorn in a bowl for me.

I took a drink of the wine and gave her a look.

"Don't you say a word," she said. "I like sweet wine. You don't. You're at my house. Get over it."

I laughed. "Hey, I tried to raise you right. It's not my fault you went astray."

She grabbed the ever-present towel, wiped the droll off my pants, draped the throw over my legs and snuggled in. "What's Mom doing?" she asked.

"Umm... well, I'm not sure," I said.

She shot me a side-eye look. "That's weird."

"Yeah. I agree."

"Sup, Dad? What do you mean you're not sure?"

"When I got home from work, she told me she was going on a date," I told her. "When I didn't approve, she said she'd cancel the date and we'd discuss it. I decided I'd had enough discussing and I left. So, I don't know if she is on a date or sitting home waiting for me to discuss it."

She looked up at me, her mouth open, for a minute. "The fuck, Dad?" She waved away my frown at her cursing. "What the hell do you mean, 'a date?'''

"Beck, I'm as shocked as you are, trust me. She told me she was going on a date, with a man, she wouldn't tell me who and she seemed to expect that I'd just say okay, have fun."

"What? Dad, is this a joke? Are you sure you understood right?"

"I'm positive, and I wish it was a joke."

"What the hell has been happening over there?" she demanded. "Jesus, I was there Wednesday, and neither one of you said a word. Everything was fine."

"Hey, I thought everything was fine," I said. "I couldn't have said anything because I didn't know anything. Tonight, is the first I heard."

"Imma call her," she said.

Collins answered, and the conversation, the one side I heard, was... interesting. Beck didn't beat around the bush.

"Where are you, Mom?"

"With who?"

"What the fuck, Mom? You just lied to me. Dad is sitting right here!"

"No, you just fucking lied to me. What is wrong with you? You just lied to me! My mother just lied to me."

"I don't give a damn. You lied! I don't know how you're going to make that up to me. Don't give me any bullshit. Don't call me, don't come over here. When, and if, I want to talk to you, I know how." She ended the call.

We sat there a moment. I had no idea what to say. I put my arm around her and squeezed my baby. I could feel her warm little body start shaking, then she buried her face in my chest and started sobbing.

"She lied to me, Dad. She told me she was with you at a restaurant. She lied to me! I guess you didn't misunderstand."

I just held her and I felt like crying, myself. I guessed she went on that date, after all. "I know, sweetheart. It's going to be okay. I know. Please don't cry, Beck. You're breaking my heart."

"How is it going to be okay?" She sat up and glared at me, her sad tears turning to angry tears. "My own mother just lied to me. She is out on a date, and she tried to tell me... Dad, what are you going to do?"

"I have no idea," I said. "Beck, I'm floundering, here. I came over here to just hang with you, try to get my mind working. I should have thought you'd ask me... I didn't mean..."

"It's not your fault. I asked you," she grabbed a box of tissues, dried her eyes and blew her nose. She looked at me, got down in the floor and lay on top of Davey. He snored his objection to being disturbed from his napping, and after a couple of minutes, she moved back beside me, snuggling in again. "Hugging Davey always calms me down," she said.

"Hugging you always calms me down," I told her. "You smell better than Davey."

She giggled. "He is kinda stinky. Talk to me, Dad. Where did this come from? What's been going on with you and Mom? What are you going to do?"

"Well, I'd love to answer those questions, but I don't know, I don't know and I don't know. I'm in shock."

She sat in silence for a minute. "We needa call Silvia," she said. She pulled out her phone.

"Hey, Sil. Where you at?"

"Well, I need you to come over here, right away. No, this is important. I mean it, like now! Okay. See you then."

"She's at Straps," she said. Straps was a club they liked. It was about ten minutes away. "She has to get an Uber."

We ate popcorn and drank our wine, talking in low voices about what could possibly be going on with Collins. Silvia showed up in about 20 minutes. She did the Davey ritual and came over to sit on the other side of Beck.

Silvia was born three years before Beck, and they'd always been close. They did everything together. Beck was a tiny little thing like her mother: a little blonde pixie. Silvia was four inches taller, with her mom's hair and eyes: a slightly larger, darker version of her mother.

She hugged us both. "What's up?" she asked. "What's the emergency? I was partying. This better be good."

Beck looked at her suspiciously. "It isn't good. Are you high?"

Silvia laughed. "Well, I did say I was partying. I've had two margaritas and a blunt, okay?"

"Go make coffee, Dad," Beck ordered. "This is fucking serious, Sil."

By the time I made the coffee and Silvia was on her second cup, Beck had told her what she knew. She looked a little shell-shocked.

"Dad, I know there's more to this story," she said. "Are you sure you're not telling us things? Have you guys been fighting? Are you having problems... you know... in the bedroom?"

"We fight sometimes, yes," I said. "No more than when you were both living at home. Less, now that I think about it. Most of our fights were about you two."

Beck punched me in the bicep. "Hey!"

I chuckled. "And no, no problems that I'm aware of in the bedroom. If there are, I'm not having them and your mother hasn't mentioned a word."

"Well, I need to talk to her," Silvia said. "You need to talk to her, Beck. Most of all, you need to talk to her, Dad. Why didn't you stay home and talk to her?"

"Maybe I should have," I admitted. "I was too mad. Jesus, girls, you didn't see the cold-blooded way she just announced it to me."

Beck squeezed me. "I know, Dad. Sil is right, though. I guess we all needa talk to her, find out what she's thinking. When do you think you could pull it together enough to talk to her and not lose it?"

"I don't know," I said. "Soon, I hope. I don't think I can stand this for very long. I'm going to the lake, going to try to relax enough to sleep, get up tomorrow and hopefully get myself together."

"Imma go with," Beck declared. "Let me grab a bag and a blanket for Davey." She started into her bedroom, then stopped. "Give Dad a blunt," she told Silvia.

Silvia looked at me questioningly. I nodded and she dug around in her bag and pulled out a case, handed me one and put it away. I had never been a heavy smoker. Collins and I sparked up once in a blue moon. It was an anxiety killer, and I felt like I needed one.

Beck came out with her bag, put some dog food in a container, grabbed Davey's dishes, I got his bed and we went to the truck. Silvia walked us out. We threw the stuff in the back and were spreading the blanket across the truck's back seat.

"I'm going over in the morning to talk to Mom," she said. "Beck, why don't you see when you can talk to her. Let me know what happens. Dad, don't do anything dumb, okay?"

"I may," I said. "I'm kinda dumb. I'll try not to do anything extra dumb."

Silvia hugged us, Davey climbed in and we were off. We had quite a conversation on the way. Beck gave me the third degree, asking about a million questions, some of which I could answer and some I couldn't.

We got to the lake house, and took Davey down to the lake, walking along, Beck holding my hand the way she had all her life. Some things hadn't changed. I felt good about that. Davey swam around for a bit, we threw sticks for him, he chased little frogs and a squirrel once, and we went back.

It was getting dark, and we got our things squared away. I examined the booze stocks. "Want a mojito?" I asked Beck.

"Yum," she said. "I do."

I made two big ones, two ounces of rum in each. Beck had the fireplace going and we sipped our drinks and talked. We sparked up the blunt and I was feeling pretty mellow.

"What do you think, Dad?" she asked.

"I have some options, but it all depends on your mom," I said. "I have to tell you, Beck. This is pretty messed up. I guess she could tell me she lost her mind, she takes it all back and that leaves us where?"

"In therapy," Beck said.

I laughed. "Yeah, the magic wand. I guess I'd give it a shot."

"What if she is determined?" she asked.

"In court, I guess," I said.

"Surely she doesn't want that. How could she want that?"

"I have no idea," I said. "You're way smarter than I am, Beck. You're going to be a psychologist very soon. Tell me, what would make someone do what she's doing?"

"In reality, I have no idea," she said. "I know the literature. People cheat to get revenge, because they have commitment issues, they're sexually attracted, they are in situations where they are thrown together, they are looking for something they aren't getting from their primary partner. Maybe a combination of several of those. I'm pretty sure not many of those apply to Mom."

"I have no idea if they do," I said. "If so, and she has some complaint, you would think she'd talk to me and let me try to work on whatever's wrong."

"Yes, you would think so," she said. "I guess we'll find out. I am going to talk to her tomorrow, Dad. You'll have to take me back so I can get my car."

I slept well, surprisingly. I watched videos and kept my mind occupied until I fell asleep, dropping my phone. I just shut it off and slept. I got up and dressed for the day, took Davey out and he prowled around in the bushes for an hour or so. When we got back, Beck was just getting around.

"We got anything to eat, Dad?" she asked.

"Not really, honey, we should have stopped on the way here."

"That's okay," she said. "You can take me out for breakfast. I want French Toast, at Gailey's."

"Deal." We left Davey in the house. He mostly slept when he got bored, anyway, and had a good breakfast. The topic of conversation was hypothetical situations that could possibly occur until we mutually decided we were sick of it. We talked about school, my job, Davey's latest antics and how her internship was going, after that.

We went back, got her stuff and picked up Davey, then I dropped her back at her place. I drove back to the lake, sat in a glider on the screened-in back porch and watched the boat traffic on the lake. It was lonely. I missed Collins and thought about all the times we'd sat right there, doing nothing except enjoying being together. I missed Beck. Hell, I would even have accepted Davey as a companion.

I decided to go fishing. I took the boat out and fished the cedar trees, catching six nice crappies. I cleaned them and found some frozen French fries to go with them. They were delicious, as always. When I thought to turn my phone back on, I had snaps from both girls, telling me to come to Beck's place.

I dragged my ass over there, and they were eating pizza. Beck got me a beer and we sat around her kitchen bar while they ate.

"Well, I talked to her," Beck got it started.

"Me too," Silvia said.

"And..." I prompted them.

"You're not going to like this," Beck said. "She told me she's dissatisfied. Not with you, necessarily, but with her life, in general. She thinks it's missing excitement, challenge. Some douchebag who owns a company she works with a lot has been hitting on her. She likes it, being pursued, men thinking she's attractive. She wants to sort of be able to go on dates. Not necessarily bang the dudes she goes on dates with, but that might happen. She says she loves you and you can go on dates if you want."

I sat there for a minute, digesting what she'd said. "Silvia, that the same story you got?" I finally asked.

"Pretty much," she said. "Dad, I don't think this is going to last long. She'll figure it out and it will be out of her system."

"The fuck, Sil! You're okay with that shit?" Beck burst out.

"I didn't say I was okay with it." She was defensive. "I said I think it won't last long. She'll get over it and things can get back to normal."

I was dumbfounded. "What do you recommend I do while she's 'getting over it?'" I asked.

"Love her, be patient, let her settle down," she said. "She loves you, Dad. She's just having some like, mid-life issues, or something."

"How about no?" Beck said. "Let her buy a sports car, get some bondage gear and have Dad tie her up and spank her, take up motorcycle racing. Those are mid-life issues, not banging other dudes."

"Well, what are your other choices? Divorce her? Cage her up?" Silvia asked.

"I don't have a clue," I said. "Divorce her, for sure is one option."

"No, it isn't," Silvia insisted. "Jesus, Dad, just don't go crazy about this. You two belong together and you know it."