Even Too

To give Emily time to move out I checked into a hotel on the shore. I have a decent view from the second floor balcony of my room. I'm overlooking the coast, reflecting, when my phone rings. I'm getting tired of this thing. Especially seeing that it's Matt's number. "Sigh." I should have expected this sooner.

"What do you want, douchebag?"

"I thought we had a deal, man." He pleads.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You said if I put in my resignation you wouldn't tell Kimmy. I already emailed in my notice and now Kimmy's asking me all these questions. What the fuck, man?"

"And not even the closest thing to any kind of an apology. Why am I surprised? Besides, I didn't tell Kimmy. She guessed."

"Alright, man. Ya got me. I screwed up and you busted me. What do you want me to say?"

"Hmm. That's a tall order. For starters I alluded to an apology there, but we'll skip that one for now. Let's see. Other items in the category of things I want you to say include: telling Kimmy the truth about fucking Emily. Telling Emily the truth about not leaving Kimmy. And when you get back to the office, go ahead and withdraw the resignation, but give them the full story behind it. That's what I'd like for you to say, since you're asking."

Dead silence... Then "I'm sorry, man. About 5 or 6 months ago, Kimmy and I had this complete meltdown. I just knew it was over. She was talking about divorce, and taking the house. I freaked out. I went to your place but you'd gone off somewhere. Emily was there. I broke down on her and told her what happened, and she listened, and we just kind of... I don't know... Connected."

"Fucked, Mattew. The word you're looking for is fucked." I say.

He ignores the correction.

"I went home the next day and it was a whole new Kimmy. We sat and talked. Worked it out. She wasn't gonna leave me. But I still had this bond with Emily. And it just kept going. I never meant to mislead her, I just never shared the whole story."

"So now the damage is done, it's all out in the open. What do you want from me?" I blurt out impatiently.

"Look man. I'll quit, I'll leave. I'll never talk to Emily again. You'll never have to see me again. Just tell Kimmy that there is nothing going on. Okay?"

"You're asking me to lie for the sake of your marriage, even though your lies didn't work?"

"Come on, man. You said you wouldn't tell her."

"And I didn't. I already told you, she figured it out for herself. And no I'm not going to lie to her. You made your mess. You deal with it." I press the end call button. Before it can make anymore noise I switch it off again. I need a drink.

I remember seeing this tiny dive of a watering hole within stumbling distance of the hotel. It's not exactly Stingray's but it'll do. Without having to interact with anyone besides the bartender, an old, tired looking woman who said literally nothing to me, I have a few beers. The walk back to my hotel is just as uneventful. Time to get some rest. I've got too much work in the morning, especially if Matt flakes.

Yawning and stretching as I lumber in the doors of the Carter & Gayle advertising firm, I'm greeted by Lynn, the most annoying receptionist I know.

"Good morning Tucker. How are you?"

Her voice is like a strangled goat. I'm partially hung over and still a little pissed off from this weekend's bullshit. So I don't really feel much like talking with her. I try to pass by, acting like I'm in a hurry and missed her but she keeps it up.

"Umm, Tucker?...Tucker?... "

She just won't give it up. So I do. "Yes Lynn?" I say turning to face her.

"There's a couple gentlemen in your office to see you. They say it's important."

I ask her who, and this time she says nothing. She just shrugs. New clients almost never show up in person. And if they do, they wait at the reception desk for one of us. They never single us out. So already, whomever they are, I hate them.

Seated in front of my desk in my office are two middle aged men, one white one black. They're dressed in plain looking grey suits. The black man stands up first and extends his hand.

"Mr. Norris? Tucker Norris?" He clarifies.

"Yes. That's me."

"Good morning, Mr. Norris. My name is Officer Yates, this is my partner, Officer Paulding. I know you must be busy, but could we have just a few moments of your time?"

"Sure." I say, as I'm looking them over. They each have a plastic credit card sized ID badge hanging from their necks. The badges have their names and faces, as well as a tiny star with PD in the middle. I'm about to ask why they're here when I notice the last word on their ID cards: HOMICIDE. My hangover is gone. They have my attention.

"What can I do for you?" I ask as I shake their hands and take my seat.

"We'd like to ask you a few questions."

"Alright."

"Mr. Norris, do you know a Ms. Emily Meddows?"

His tone scares me.

Still more to come.