'Goode' Neighbors

I didn't get drunk; I stayed up until well past midnight and considered my life and the options my attorney gave me. The more consideration I gave it, the more I recognized that, except for my marriage to a woman I loved until a few hours ago, my life was crap. I hated my boss and the job. I hated living in the Midwest with all the cold winters; when the temperatures finally got above freezing, you still couldn't go outside without getting eaten alive by mosquitoes, and those were now carrying crazy pathogens like West Nile. I hated the big house Jenny just had to have "before we have children"; with the big lawn that required watering and fertilizer, just so you had to cut it twice a week. There were very few neighbors I gave a shit about, and that number was just reduced by half.

That I would leave Jenny was now a given. I've heard there are guys who can tolerate their wives' infidelities, there are even guys who get off on it. How, I don't know; but it wouldn't work for me. I tried to sleep; it was difficult, but it finally came after staring at the hotel room ceiling for what seemed like hours; wondering how I fucked up and why it came to this.

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After graduating from the University of Minnesota with a double major, German and Russian, the Army offered me a job; all I had to do is sign up for the next four years. The Army's advantage over my other options was I wouldn't be spending two or three years doing grunt work; I would be doing real work translating as soon as I finished basic training.

I met Jenny during my last year while I was stationed at the Pentagon. Jenny was a waitress at the bar where my friends and I hung out. I won't lie; the main attraction was the pretty face, sweet smile and killer body. We dated for seven months before I popped the question. Jenny said, 'yes' and we were married and set up house in Minneapolis two months after I received my discharge.

Jenny had limited skills; I hate to say it, but with all of Jenny's wonderful qualities, intelligence wasn't one of them. I couldn't see her getting another job in a bar; hell, it was hard enough watching all the guys hit on her when we were dating. Although it meant less money, Jenny found a part-time job selling dresses. The money wasn't an issue because I was making good money, enough to buy our 'dream' house four years later when prices hadn't fully recovered after the housing crash.

Our primary reasons for moving to Minneapolis threw me a curve within two years of our moving there. Dad was given a package to retire early; he and Mom decided to join the other snowbirds; sold their home and moved to sunny Florida. My sister, never one to appreciate the frigid Minnesota winters, followed them down there.

I hate to make excuses for Jenny; there is no excuse for her getting involved with the Goode's parties; but I think when Mom and Sis moved for Florida, it left a void in Jenny's life. A void that may have contributed to Jenny's subsequent attachment to our new neighbors, especially to Doris.

After Jenny and I bought the house, we gave ourselves a year to get it fixed up and ready before we were going to get her pregnant. Instead, I'm trying to fall asleep in this strange bed, wondering what I'd be doing a year from now instead of holding my newborn child.

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I woke up Sunday morning, glad I had taken it easy on the JD last night, no hangover to make me feel worse than I already did. There was a diner across the street and it served a decent breakfast. I reviewed the list I put together; the few things I wanted if I walked away and a list of our assets; bank accounts, brokerage account, etc. The list of possessions to keep was short and most of our money had gone into the down payment of the house.

I spent a couple hours back at the room parsing through the photos and videos from last night. It's amazing how much detail one of these digital cameras can pick up, even in low light. I separated out the better images. The photos of the other participants would be saved for another day. I didn't consider any of them innocents, they must have known Jenny was there without her husband and, in my mind, that should have made her off limits; so, screw 'em!

Monday started my exit strategy in earnest. Jenny wasn't expecting me back from my business trip until Friday; I had four days to put it all together and try to do it right.

I drove to the first of five local auto dealers looking for my next vehicle. After finding what I wanted at two of the dealers, I completed the trade with the one that gave me the best offer and drove out of the dealer's lot in a used converted camper-van and a two-thousand dollar check; leaving behind my one-year-old Chrysler 300. The dealer got the best of the trade, but I did all right and now had a vehicle I could travel in.

Tuesday and Wednesday were spent getting my financial ducks in a row and outfitting the camper with everything I'd need to take an extended road trip.

By Thursday I was ready, a full day before my deadline and one of the days Jenny worked at the store. Back at our house, I loaded all the items I wanted into the van; it wasn't much and didn't crowd the van more than necessary. I left a note on the kitchen table with two photographs, one of her with Goode and Thompson, the other was our wedding photo, torn in half. I thought about leaving my wedding ring; but figured I could probably hock the thing somewhere along the way. It was gold and should be worth at least a tank of gas.

The note read: "Jenny - I won't live with a liar and a cheat. Good-bye"

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My first stop would be Naples, Florida, where my folks moved to after Dad retired. The van was a pleasure to drive. I put twelve hours of driving in each day, mostly on back roads, before finding a campground to park for the night. I quickly found out there are good campgrounds and there are crummy campgrounds. I'd have to figure out how to differentiate between the two if I was going to travel for a while.

On the evening of the third day, I pulled into my parents' drive. I got a great, big hug from Mom and even a manly hug from Dad. They knew I was coming to visit; but didn't know the specifics. This was going to be tough, they both liked Jenny and were anxiously awaiting the phone call that they'd be grandparents.

"What's going on, George? Why are you here?"

I didn't want to go into it immediately, not here out on their front porch. As we went inside, I had to ask.

"Has Jenny called looking for me?"

Mom got a sad look in her eyes. "Why would she call looking for you? Doesn't she know you're here?"

"Probably too embarrassed to call and talk to either one of you. I left Jenny; caught her cheating on me."

Mom was shocked. "I can't believe it; not Jenny!"

"Please believe me, Mom; I don't want to show you the photos to prove it to you. She got involved with our neighbors, a spouse swapping group."

Dad finally found his voice. "Why?"

"Hell if I know. I found out about it and decided to bolt. I haven't talked to Jenny and I don't plan to."

"Are you getting a divorce?"

"That's the thing, Dad. I went to a lawyer and found out how screwed I'd be if we went to court for a divorce. I'd be paying alimony to her for years; all the while, she's free to play around with the neighbors. I took the coward's way out. Quit my job, bought a van and I'm going to tool around for a while."

"That doesn't sound like you, son."

"No, it doesn't. But, maybe it's about time to change my ways. I graduated from college in three years, immediately joined the Army where I spent four years. Came out, got a job within the first month, got married, then spent the last five years trying to get ahead so I could raise kids with the love of my life.

"So, here I am; thirty years old. No kids, no wife, a four-year-old van and about six thousand dollars to my name. Hell of a deal, right?"

Mom weighed in. "Isn't there some way to forgive Jenny and get back with her? I mean, if she apologizes and promises never to do it again?"

I felt sorry for Mom; always the optimist, always ready to forgive, always ready to think the best of people. I gave her a hug.

"No, Mom. You didn't see what I saw. Her with more than one guy. You didn't hear how she claimed she'd miss me when she thought I was going on a business trip; before setting up a get-together with the neighbors and their friends. The lying was nearly as bad as the infidelity. Both broke any trust I could have in her."

Around seven o'clock my sister, Gina, showed up at our parents' home. It was good to see my little sister again. Although she was five years younger than me, we were fairly close until I left home for college. We always took time out to talk any time I came home for breaks; but when I left for the Army, it became tougher to maintain that closeness. I never realized how much I missed her and how much she had matured until this evening.

We took a walk along the beach; the sun had just set and the sky was a brilliant red. Without Mom and Dad around, we could talk freely.

"Jenny called me last night. She said you took off and only left a note."

"Did she tell you what was written on the note or why I left."

"No, she only asked that if I heard from you, that I should ask you to call her so she could explain. So, tell me big brother, what's going on?"

"Jenny got involved in our neighbor's swinging club, without me, of course. I was supposed to be out of town on business. She set it up to attend a party while I was gone. I have her on video with five different guys."

I think Gina was stunned at my revelation. "No shit! What, did you hire a PI?"

"No; I didn't go out of town because I knew something was going to happen; I'd seen a text on her phone. Stayed in a hotel nearby and filmed the party myself, they weren't too discrete. Once I had the evidence, I quit my job, bought the van and left Minneapolis. Now I'm going to travel for a while. Starting with the States and if the money holds out, maybe Europe."

"What about Jenny? You going to divorce her?"

"Like I told Mom and Dad; a divorce would screw me over. I'd be paying her for years. Not going to happen! I'm just leaving it all behind."

"Well, would you consider taking your little sister along? I have a few weeks of vacation coming and like'd to spend it on the road with you. As long as I'm not cramping your style." Gina gave me a wicked smile.

"Gina, this isn't about finding Jenny's replacement; this is about getting my head on straight."

"I get it. Anyway, if you're heading out west, I'd like to tag along for a couple weeks. I hear Utah is beautiful."

"It's a deal. We'll do it in the Fall when it's less crowded and not so hot. Right now, I need you to do me a big favor; I need your expertise with computers." Gina was one of those rare women that didn't let the misogynist dweebs keep her from becoming an expert programmer.

"What do you need, big brother?"

I told Gina about the videos and stills I had of Jenny's sex party and what I had planned for them. As I laid out my revenge, Gina's smile grew until she couldn't help but laugh.

"You got it, big brother. I can make that happen."

It took a few weeks to put it all together and cover our tracks so nothing could be traced back to either of us; but three weeks after I left Minnesota, it was all set. I knew Gina was good with computers; but what she was able to do stunned me.

First off, Gina and a guy she dates, Dennis, found the names and personal information of all the singles and all but one of the couples that frequented the Goode's parties. It only took two days to send phishing emails to each of the participants' computers which, when the recipient clicked on a link, downloaded a virus that gave Gina every 'marks' (that's how we began to refer to the swingers) contacts, including email addresses. It was a gold mine.

Kyle Goode owned the local John Deere dealership and he was the big target. Gina and Dennis hacked into the store's business computer and downloaded its customers' email and physical addresses.

A website was created, hosted by a company in the Ukraine that specialized in amateur porn. When I asked how we were doing all this without it getting tracked back to us, Gina and Dennis just laughed, then tried explaining how the webhost was being paid in Bitcoin (what the hell?) and all the routing went through enough iterations that it would take the CIA to get back to us. I nodded my head as they explained it all; but it still didn't make any sense and I decided to trust their expertise.

Harry Thompson was an enigma. We couldn't crack into his computer and we never were able to uncover much in the way of personal information. He wasn't on Facebook, LinkedIn, or any other social media. The Goode's computer didn't have an email address for him, we couldn't find where Harry was employed - a complete mystery. Dennis guessed that Harry was probably "into some illegal shit" and we finally gave up trying to find anything on Harry.

Gina and Dennis had a friend who was big on video editing and he spent time producing an entertaining movie out of the videos and photos. Every time the video showed a new sex scene, the action would suspend long enough to superimpose the close-ups from the stills to identify the 'actors'. The forty-five-minute video was uploaded to the website and was ready.

The next part will probably piss some people off and make others shake their heads in disgust. When we edited the video, I didn't show the scene when Jenny gets double teamed by Kyle and Harry; we did leave in one scene when Jenny is humping away on one of the other men; but only the one scene - enough to show her involvement in the group's activity, but not enough to cause her too much embarrassment.

I've had more than a few people ask me why I didn't throw Jenny's ass under the bus and show all her depravity; and I only have one answer - Jenny's parents. Robert and Linda Rawlings are two of the nicest, sweetest people I've ever known. They welcomed me into their home, they treated me like a son and, if they ever saw or heard about our video, they deserved better than to see their daughter in that light; even if she didn't deserve better for breaking my heart. So, although the video made certain to prove Jenny was a participant, it didn't include any of her worse moments.

Gina came over to our parents' house where I was staying one sunny Florida morning. She sat at the kitchen table with her ubiquitous cup of black coffee and asked the question.

"It's all set, big brother; the website is up, the emails are loaded, a couple hundred letters to Goode's customers who don't have an email account are stamped and ready to send. Are you ready to pull the plug?"

It was time to act. "Yes, Gina; it's time. Let's get it started and have some fun."

Gina pulled out her phone and gave the word. "Dennis, send the emails." Gina looked up at me. "A friend of ours is headed to Vegas today. He'll put the letters in the post office when he lands, that way no one can trace them back here. I think we've covered our tracks as best we can."

"Thanks Gina; thanks for everything. I'm taking off tomorrow to head out and start my journeys."

Gina handed me a credit card. "Dennis suggested one more thing. It was his idea that I apply for a credit card in my name; for when you need to pay for something and can't use cash. He said a lot of the state and national campgrounds require reservations and you'll need a credit card to secure them. It's in my name, but that won't matter if you make the reservations in my name and I don't complain to the bank's fraud department about the charges. This way, no one can track you through your card. It has a five-thousand-dollar credit line; you can pay me back whenever it's convenient."

I gave Gina a hug; this was almost too much to expect.

"Thank you; thank Dennis, too."

"Well, don't forget you promised we'd spend some time travelling together soon."

"Like I said, it's too hot and too crowded at the Utah National Parks right now. Let's plan on meeting up late September and visiting some of those parks."

With an agreement to spend two weeks in September, Gina headed out and went to work. I went out and got the van ready to travel. The next morning, I kissed Mom good-bye and gave Dad a man-hug; thanked them for letting me stay for a while, promised to be safe and stay in touch. Then my father surprised me as he leaned into the open window of the van's passenger door. "I love you, son." I always knew he loved me, he showed me in a thousand ways as I grew up, but he never said it before. My eyes were misting as I backed out the drive.

I took the back roads north to Virginia onto the Blue Ridge Parkway and spent a week touring southwest into North Carolina. Drove north to Nashville where I spent two days on Broadway listening to some great music. I visited the National Monument at Shiloh; I always wanted to see it ever since I did a report on the Western battles of the Civil War back in junior high. I started west with the plan to stop in Memphis to spend time on Beale Street and maybe visit Graceland.

It was the middle of the night, I was sleeping in the van, parked along state route 64 east of Bolivar, Tennessee, when I was awakened by a pounding on the door. It was a state patrol officer standing there with one hand on the butt of his service sidearm; the holster was unbuckled.

"Can I help you, officer?"

"How long have you been parked here?"

"I pulled in around ten last night; too tired to drive on so I thought I'd get a few hours of sleep."

"Can I see your driver's license, please?"

I handed him my license and he walked back to his patrol car to call it in. I sat down in the passenger's seat and waited for his return. As he walked back, I started to worry, there was something about the way he was looking at me; he still had his hand on the sidearm.

"Mr. Baker, did you know there's outstanding warrant for your arrest?"

"No, I didn't. Does it say what I supposedly did?"

"I didn't get the particulars; it's a misdemeanor warrant. Any reason someone is looking for you in Minnesota?"

I gave the officer the Reader's Digest version of what happened. Then added, "I'm guessing some judge awarded my wife maintenance and I haven't paid it."

The officer smiled. "Well, I should bring you in; but right now I need to chase down that car that just went speeding by, I think it was a drunk driver and that takes priority to your warrant. You can stay here and wait for my return or, this being thirty minutes from the state border, you could head south on route 18 and get out of my jurisdiction. Know what I'm saying?"

I hadn't seen any car speed by, so I figured the guy was giving me a break; maybe he had his own heartbreak story. I nodded, "Yes, officer."

"You're not going to have this come back on me, are you?"

"Officer, you can ask anyone, even my future ex-wife; I'd rather cut off my left hand than screw someone that did me a solid."

"I'll bet you're right-handed though, right?"

"OK, I'll cut off my right arm if you ever hear I gave you up."

"I suggest you cross the border sooner than later." With that he headed west and I headed south into Mississippi.

Considering I missed Beale Street, the siren song of New Orleans and its Bourbon Street called out to me and I continued south. Three days drinking and listening to jazz, Zydeco and Creole music put a hole in my wallet. I hocked my gold wedding band, bought a tank of gas, two bottles of Dixie and a giant bowl of Etouffee before heading west out of town. I needed to avoid big cities and the corresponding expenses before my funds ran out. I still had a few thousand; but I was spending it too fast.