February Sucks - Jim's had Enough

February Sucks- Jim's Had Enough

This is a re-submission. I made a mistake. (I do. Sorry.) it slipped past my editor. I fired him. It won't happen again. All on me. Again, I'm sorry.

A special thanks to Fidium. If you don't know who they are, they convinced us to ditch our cable company and sign with their brand new fiber optic service. BINGO!! They screwed it up and five days later, after no internet or television, We are functional again. Thank GOD my wife can still talk. At least, I think we did. She didn't say much, but managed to wake up every morning, alive, so....

That was sarcasm, folks. Sorry. The Bear was pissed off. Okay, I'm finished.

All homage to George Anderson. I never though I would write this one, but I'd had enough, too.

I know, I know, more February Sucks. I tend to get sick of them, too. Not the premise, just the number of them. And all too often, it results in: 1) Reuniting, or 2) judicial death for Jim. The Bear likes happy endings and this will be no exception. I just read "Unexpected Promotion-Feb. Sucks" by funperson969. Excellent story, and I loved it. Not quite up to "February Sucks My Way", by Omegaman56. One of my all-time favorites. But pretty freaking close. Sorry, but I believe in white or black, yes or no, right or wrong. And that is the problem.

Anyway, the Bear figured out what was wrong with the whole story. With kudos to all preceding authors, this is my version. Thermonuclear, (at least I hope), in its resolution, THIS is how it should be. And lest any of my distaff readers take exception, you might want to read my story- "May Sucks-Happy Mother's Day, Bastard". I Do believe in fair play. Thank you for reading. Enjoy. OH, and -Happy Valentines Day. This starts just after Linda has left. We all know what happened and most of what was said. So here goes. No need to rehash. THIS is what should have happened.

Enjoy, please.

Jim looked around. No Linda. But she only went to the bathroom! Where the fuck was she? It all started to come together. He hit #2 on speed dial and Linda's smiling face came up and it went right to voicemail. So! That's how it was, huh? Well, two can play at this game. He speed dialed his father and when his dad's voice started with, "Hey son, how's it goi...." he cut him off and told him everything.

Then,-

"You know who Mrs. Porter is, right, Dad? I need you and Mom to go there, right now, and get the kids, bring them home to YOUR house, and keep them till this shit is settled. Then call LW and have him call me. Fill him in on what I just told you. Do this for me, dad. I got everything else covered."

'I hoped.'

Silence. Then, "O.K., son. Just be careful." He hung up.

Then I hit 911 and waited.

"911, what is your emergency?"

I told the operator everything- my name, location, her name, and what I believed happened. I deliberately referred to asshole as some 'scum-sucking football player.' She assured me two units in the area were on their way.

"Stay where you are, sir, and stay on the line till the police arrive, then get with the officers and have them check in with me. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am", I answered.

Two minutes later, lights and sirens and two black and whites rolled up. St. Louis's finest. Two white officers, and a black and a white officer. Three males and one female. They took control and started to interview the crowd. Cell phones abounded and they were all being used. In addition, Channel 8 TV. news. I knew her, uhh, Ginny, Ginny Lewandowski. She was an up-and-coming crime reporter.

She had a nose for trouble.

Looks like Marc and Linda's bad luck was just starting.

She came up to me and started talking. She id'd herself and asked a question, then stuck the mic in my face. I spluttered and finally spilled everything to her, including the fact that we had two small children and I was concerned for my wife's safety. She took all this in and asked 'Did I recognize the athlete? Do I know who it was? Did either my wife or I ever meet him before??'

I puzzled for a minute, then assured her who the asshole (pardon my French, ma'am) was, eliciting a small gasp from the reporter. I continued to rant about Marc LaValliere kidnapping my wife. About that time, Dee and her husband walked up and Dee proceeded to pull me away, trying to explain that Linda hadn't been kidnapped, that she just had to do this for herself and would return tomorrow. That was when Dave shuddered at his wife's comments and grabbed her arm, spun her around, and exploded in her face.

"You knew what she was going to do? You let her do this?? YOU HELPED HER DO THIS??? You fucking bitch!!"

He spun and stalked away. Dee screamed, "NO DAVE, WAIT! IT'S NOT LIKE THAT!! GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE-NOW!!"

Not happening.

While all this was going on, Ginny had pulled out her cell phone, hit 4 on speed dial, and waited. It chirped a response. Her older brother Michael answered cheerfully.

"Hey, little sis. How's crime in the streets?"

"Shut up, Mike, and just listen." She held her phone and returned to the interview.

"So, Mr. Carlyle, once again, your wife is not here after she left to go to the lady's room. She never returned, and you think she was kidnapped by Marc LaValliere, the football player?"

Now, at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Michael Lewandowski, who just happened to be the Special Agent in Charge, Organized Crime section of the St. Louis, Missouri branch of the FBI, the cell phone conversation with his younger sister had just gotten REALLY interesting.

Mike had gone from a comfortable evening watching repeats of "The ROOKIE", in preparation for the start of the new season, to scrambling to get his shoes on and grabbing his jacket and service weapon. His attractive wife, Carmen was rapidly switching to Channel 8, KDTE T.V., coming to a 'Breaking News' announcement and her sister-in-law's visage on the screen. Carmen gaped as the entire purported story spilled out on the screen.

You see, Mike's partner, Jack Schultz, and his wife of 15 years had been out to dinner at the same restaurant/club about seven months earlier, and, yep, you guessed it, the same scenario occurred. Except they were alone. It was their 'date night' and when Jack discovered what had happened, it was too late. He was reduced to going home and waiting for his errant wife to return. When she did, she immediately was left on the doorstep, as Jack chased the asshole with his service weapon. Only the speed of his Ferrari saved Marc's sleazy ass. But now, the ire of The FBI was focused on him. Carmen knew both Jack and his wife and the ongoing divorce was tearing them up. Mike also.

So with rage in her eyes, Carmen rose and grabbed her husband, holding him, and asked him what was he going to do.

"I'm going to go get justice for Jack", he said.

"Good", she said. "Don't do anything stupid, but make him pay, baby. Please!!"

"Count on it, sweets!" He kissed her nose and squeezed her ass. "I love you."

"I love you more," she returned and touched his cheek. "Go get him, Tiger!"

Mike left, disconnecting his sister, and hitting speed dial for the command center. He connected with the head of the local FBI HRT Squad and briefed them on the situation. He instructed them to get a warrant for LaValliere's residency, vehicles and put a freeze on his passport and bank accounts.

Now what a lot of people didn't know was that good old Marc played for the St. Louis Sharks, as in St. Louis, Missouri. But he lived in EAST St. Louis, ILLINOIS. Interstate trafficking, and with the suspected (well, the press and her husband suspected it) kidnapping, the FBI could get involved. He had his second on the HRT get in touch with Illinois State Police, the Missouri State bears, and the local FBI field office and everyone was moving to Marc's exclusive mansion in East St. Louis. Ill.

Strike two, LaValliere.

The press was already trying to get in touch with the Shark's ownership, and getting nowhere, while the team was busy trying to get a hold of Marc. Again, voicemail.

UH, OH.

While driving to the bridge across the Mississippi, Mike hit speed dial #7 (his little sister) and was rewarded with an immediate answer. "WHAT, MIKE? I'm working."

He chuckled and said, "Informed sources say that the FBI and the State police in Missouri and Illinois are converging on one Marc LaValliere's home in East St. Louis, Illinois, in response to a reported 'kidnapping'." He snickered. "Want a piece?"

"We're coming. How about if I bring the poor husband?"

Mike laughed out loud.

"That would be great. Drive carefully. I don't Mom and Dad to get mad at me for putting you in......." Silence. She had hung up.

So, back at Morrison's-

Ginny turned to a visibly distraught but pissed-off Jim, and asked if he would like to go with them to confront the 'elusive couple?'

"What do you mean?"

She told him what she had learned, as she grabbed his arm and led him towards her truck, while her tech inside was lowering the Microwave mast, preparing to pack up and leave. Two other news crews were milling about, wondering what to do next, obviously not having the 'inside scoop' that Ginny did. As they reached the truck, they were approached by a police Lt. and two of Marc's teammates from inside the club.

"Excuse me, sir," the Lt. said, addressing Jim.

"Yes?"

"UHH, these two gentlemen said that your wife wasn't kidnapped." As soon as the Lt. started to speak, Ginny turned on her audio pickup and gabbed her mic, motioning to her cameraman to start recording.

Here it comes.

"Well, this gentleman says she left of her own free will. She wasn't coerced." Jim blew up.

"You mean she just up and left me, on our night on the town? ME, her husband of 11 years, father of her two children? She just left, without a word, to have sex with a jerk-off she had never met before, who she didn't know from Adam??"

That's when idiot number one, later identified as an outside linebacker, yelled at Jim.

"Hey, little man, it's what Marc does. He picks up poor old middle-aged women and takes them away from their stupid clueless husbands and fucks their brains out. Then he brings home, not too much the worse for wear, just a little stretched out. HEH, HEH, HEH!" That when the Other jerk slapped his friends chest,

"Shut the fuck up, asshole. The news is getting it all!" That was jerk number two, a defensive lineman.

'We sure are, dumbshits. It's o.k., though', Ginny thought. 'We have their faces, and we'll be able to ID them.'

The Lt. just stood there and shook his head, wondering if there was still a chance to get on with that security company his brother-in-law owned.

Ginny was grinning like a Cheshire cat. She looked at me, then realized what had been said, and what it meant to me. She stopped grinning. She turned to the two reprobates and thought for a brief second.

"SO this is something that Mr. LaValliere does quite frequently? Does he 'hunt' here often? Because when this gets out, you two will be on everybody's 'I want to talk to you' list. Any comments??"

"SCREW YOU, BITCH!!," said jerk number two.

"YEAH, what he said," said idiot number 1.

Ginny smirked.

"Thank you, GENTLEMEN. This is Ginny Lewandowski, Channel 8 news. Come on, Mr. Carlyle."

We left for the run to Illinois. On the way, I called Linda's parents. They didn't like me much. The feeling was mutual. But Linda always said it was that they didn't realize what a nice guy I was. Yeah, we all know how nice guys end up, don't we? Well, THAT shit was going to end tonight, too.

Her father picked up on the third ring.

"Hello??"

"Horace, it's Jim, your son-in-law. (For now) What are you doing?"

"What's it to you? I'm relaxing, getting ready to watch a movie, and I don't really have time to talk to you, pally, so if you don't have......"

That's it. The nice guy has had it.

"Just shut the fuck up, Judge!" Yeah, her dad's a Judge. Superior court type. Thinks he's a big shot.

"I suggest you turn on Channel 8, or probably any of the other network stations. Your daughter, the slut, is on the news. Eat shit and die, fucker!!"

Boy, that felt good.

Ginny was looking at me, from the front passenger seat. She was thinking. Then,

"You are really screwed up right now, aren't you? That was your father-in-law, and you told him off, letting him know his daughter is a slut and she is about to be exposed to the world. She really did a number on you, didn't she??"

I shuddered and pulled into myself, feeling like the world had finally imploded.

"Yeah, and my kids, my extended family, my career, my reputation, my ego, you name it, I'm screwed. Women always come out on top in a divorce." I felt exhausted. It finally hit me. I was screwed.

She looked at me.

"Maybe not. We'll see."

That last one was a brush back. One ball, two strikes. Unfortunately, he plays football, not baseball. But Karma was about to take a hand.

My phone rang as we rolled towards Illinois. I looked at the id on the screen and perked up a bit.

"Hey, LW, how you doin'?", I said in my best Jersey knock-off. I could hear the grin on the other end.

"Jim, your dad filled me in on what happened, mostly, and I've been watching the news. That little reporter on Channel 8 is cute. How are you holding up son?"

Ginny spewed coffee all over and she started to laugh. I blushed.

No, really, I blushed.

"UH, LW I'm on my way to Marc's house in Illinois with the Channel 8 news crew-including Ginny Lewandowski, and possibly the FBI, and the State police. From two states, I believe."

I could hear the amusement in LW's voice.

"Really? Well, that should be interesting. O.K., let's talk business. I've got the papers drawn up for various lawsuits and your divorce. Sorry, son, but I figure it's the best route. But you should wait till the confrontation plays out, especially if law enforcement is involved. I'll meet you there. I know where the shithead lives, and my chopper will make quick work of getting us there. Feel free to talk to anyone about the events of tonight, laying the blame on you-know-who. Just don't let on that Linda is a willing participant. That will be an ace in the hole for us in court, and will make you look good."

"I'll try, LW, but I don't know if I can pull it off."

"Get Ginny to help you. This story has national notoriety written all over it, and it will look good for her bio when she moves to the big leagues in New York, or Los Angeles.

"Won't it, Ms. Lewandowski?"

Ginny was stunned. She had no idea that the man I was talking to knew anything about her ambitions. But he had hit it right on the head. Who the hell was he?

"UHH, Yes sir, it would. I'll keep a tight rain on him, sir. Count on it," she said.

"And Jim, mention your kids every chance you get. Tears would help, if you can," added LW smirking at the thought.

'Shouldn't be too hard,' I thought.

"Again, I'll try, LW. Thanks for the help." I ended the call and we pressed on to Marc's house in East St. Louis.

Actually, it was in Cahokia, just outside of East St. Louis, south on Illinois State Route 3. There was a mid-sized development of upscale homes, the largest of which was -you guessed it, Marc LaValliere's Estate. Four acres, surrounded by an eight-foot-high stone wall on three sides, and a steel fence along the river. The Mercedes with the errant couple in it, arrived and they went inside.

There was a small building housing the town hall complex and police headquarters. Behind it was a helipad. That's where LW's helicopter was going to land.

Meanwhile, Mike Lewandowski had been busy. He had contacted a local judge in Missouri and gotten warrants and subpoenas for one Marc LaValliere, one Linda Carlyle and any other individuals found at his home or 'surrounding buildings.'

Now, you may wonder how the FBI can be involved. Well, it appears to be an 'interstate' kidnapping (well, it appears to be. It MIGHT be). And with the person involved(good old Marc LaValliere), and the personal aspect of an FBI agent's wife having been targeted some months before (not that that entered into any of this) the Federal judge awakened at 11:00 p.m. to sign the warrants was more than willing to lend a hand. So there was all kinds of ammo waiting to be let loose on the shithead.

Now, on to Illinois. The State Police headquarters were awakened, literally, and made aware of the coming shitstorm. They made ready to welcome their comrades from Missouri and the FBI and added their own hostage negotiating teams to the fray. The Captain in charge of this type of action was very supportive of the ongoing drama.(The fact that he was a big Chicago Bears fan, and NOT a Marc LaValliere fan didn't hurt. Not even a little bit.....Well, maybe a little bit.)

So about 40 minutes later, the Channel 8 news van, with two local Missouri news crews in tow, four FBI Chevy Suburbans, and a tactical assault vehicle roared up to the black steel gate in front of Casa LaValliere. They met up with three other Suburbans, two large light tower trucks, and another assault vehicle. The lights went on and the extended towers were up, with the floods on the front of Marc's mansion. Of course, the gate was closed and locked, and all the curtains were closed, but you could see lights on in the lower floor windows. Several cars, some foreign, expensive Euro pieces of shit, and a few top-of-the-line American luxury cars. They were soon joined by local news crews from Illinois, and a crew from Chicago was rumored to be on their way.

What the hell was going on?

A helicopter landed on the City Hall helipad in Cahokia and was met by two Ford Expeditions, with a few large gentlemen in them. LW, his P/A Claire Manson, and his bodyguard, Joe Wilson, deplaned and got into the first big Ford, followed by three staff attorneys and a notary who got into the second one. Immediately, they left to go to the estate, and the coming brou ha ha. Soon after, two Cadillac Escalades raced down the highway on their way toward destiny, having crossed from Missouri In a panic. You'll see.

So the stage was set. The players were assembled and the 'dance was set in motion', as they say. But what of the two 'honored guests'?

Hmm. Let's see, shall we??

Linda and Marc

Linda Carlyle and Marc LaValliere danced like they were the only two people on Earth. Jim?? Jim who??

She was in a different dimension. Her legs didn't need to support her, as Marc's strong arms held her, with his hands firmly ensconced on her ass. Her arms were around his neck, she was swooning in his embrace, and she was mentally thanking Dee for suggesting this place.

"So what do you say, good-looking? Want to do like I said and ditch your husband, come to my party with my friends? I guarantee you that the loving will be great. And lots of it. My friends know how to show a fine-looking woman like you a good time."

Linda was getting excited, more so than all the times she had gone out to some guy's car for a quick blow job, or back to the hotel room for the sex on 'girl's night out'. Dee was right. This was so far over the quick trysts she'd had over the ten years of her marriage. She knew what she wanted, and to hell with the consequences.

"Oh, yeah, I don't think there is any question here. Let's get this party started."

She reached down and squeezed Marc's bulge, and as quickly moved her hand to his lips.

"Just a promise of more to come, big guy!", she purred. She was going to enjoy this. But first...

She returned to her table and as Jim rose from his seat, she flashed him a smile. Her second-best smile. She knew what she was going to do to her husband, but 'Hey, she deserved it.' And she could do it. So there!! She'll be back, in a few days, just like before. The same old me. (GAG!!)

Jim saw her look and knew something was going on, some sort of trouble brewing, but it never even crossed his mind how bad it would be.