Live from the Game Ch. 04

And then it was time. The bottom of the sixth innings. Solomon was on his laptop and he looked at me, asking if we were a go.

I held up my finger and pulled out my phone. I couldn't quite believe I was going to give her one more chance. I called her number and after a few rings, she picked up. I could hear rustling, where she was trying to make sure the phone didn't pick up the announcers voice at the stadium.

"Yes?" she was abrupt.

"Deanna."

"What do you want? I'm with a client."

"Come home. Please. We need you. Come home now. Leave your 'client' and come home."

"Ryan, what's the matter with you? The kids are fine, Melissa is with them."

"I know, I just called home looking for you. Where are you?"

"Why do you care? Look, I'll be home this evening. What's so important that I have to leave now?"

"I just...need you. I need you to come home. Please. For us. For me."

"Ryan, I'm in the middle of an important meeting here. I can't just leave. I'll be home this evening. We can talk then. Whatever it is, it can wait."

And she disconnected the phone.

And, with tears trickling down my face, I nodded at Solomon. Simon put his hand on my shoulder and said, "It's what needs to happen dude. It's going to be alright."

Solomon started typing, saying, "We've been in since the game started. I can see the directors commands."

On the TV, where the game was playing, the stadium jumbotron suddenly did one of its display things, between a play.

"HEY FOLKS!" it said, "REMEMBER THESE TWO? FROM A COUPLE OF WEEKS AGO?"

And then it ran a quick image of my wife and Jordan Lawler making out, with the inscription "KISS CAM" at the bottom.

"THEY ARE BACK HERE TODAY!" This is where it got tricky. I had got Simon to approach the cameramen whose names were in the credits for the TV show of the last game and explained what we wanted to do, and the one guy we really needed had agreed to what we'd asked. We'd asked that when the Jumbotron started talking about this couple, he find them with his camera and zoom in on them. This was our problem -- there were seven cameramen working the stadium and we didn't know which one was the guy with the camera opposite where Jordan had his tickets -- he was the one guy we really needed. But it turns out we'd gotten lucky -- one of the other guys had laughed and explained that when the jumbotron started acting up, he'd zoom in on the big screen, to be sure that the details were broadcast on the national feed.

Solomon was zapping between two different laptops -- one was in control of the Jumbotron and the other was taking control of the vision mixing software used at Wrigley Field to decide which camera was being broadcast. The problem was that the software just assigned camera numbers, and we had no idea which camera was which. We'd been watching all game, matching up the camera numbers being selected by the director with what we were seeing, to determine which one was which.

We'd worked it out, and now we could put up whatever camera we wanted on the Jumbotron. And we had. The cameraman -- on camera #5 -- had come through for us and was zoomed in on Deanna and Jordan, who were watching the big screen and laughing, pointing at themselves on the Jumbotron, once Solomon switched the feed to that camera.

On the TV, showing the game, we could also see the jumbotron, since the other cameraman had also done what he said he would, zooming in on it, so everyone would see it.

Then the image switched to a picture of Deanna, taken from her birthday party last year.

"THIS IS DEANNA TOMLINSON." Read the caption.

Then it switched to an image of Jordan, taken from his facebook page.

"HER COMPANION IS JORDAN LAWLER."

Then it switched a picture of me.

"DEANNA IS MARRIED TO RYAN TOMLINSON."

Then a picture of Jordan's wife and kids, again, from facebook.

"JORDAN IS MARRIED TO MICHELLE LAWLER, BACK IN PHILIDELPHIA."

Then back to the live feed of the two of them, yelling, all upset and Jordan looking around franticly, shouting something.

"NEITHER OF THEIR SPOUSES KNOW THAT DEANNA AND JORDAN ARE HERE, AS THEY HAVE BEEN EVERY WEDNESDAY FOR WEEKS."

It cut back to the picture of the two of them making out.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK THEY ARE DOING HERE?"

Then it cut to a very carefully cropped image of Jordan and Deanna, taken from the video I had of them. It was very carefully composed -- it showed Deanna and Jordan's faces -- she was obviously in mid-orgasm, but it was very carefully composed so while it was obvious they were naked, nothing titillating was shown.

"DEANNA AND JORDAN ARE CHEATERS. WE JUST THOUGHT YOU'D LIKE TO KNOW."

And then we returned control of the jumbotron to the people at Wrigley Field, who were no doubt running around like chickens with their heads cut off. We left the image on the jumbotron on the live feed from camera #5. Jordan had taken off and Deanna was sitting alone, slumped down, in tears.

Jordan and Deanna would be served as soon as they exited the field -- we had process servers waiting at both their cars. Jordan was served with an Alienation of Affection writ, and Deanna was served with both a restraining order -- sworn out that morning, as Sarah Gold had promised - and divorce papers.

Originally I had wanted to serve them right there and then, in the field and have the last words on the Jumbotron be "YOU'VE BEEN SERVED!", but that would have made too much of a direct connection to me. As it was, I was the obvious culprit here, but Solomon had assured me that he had enough cut outs that they'd never trace the intercept and hack back to him -- he was routed through seven other computers before he went near them. Plus, I'd never talked to the cameramen, only Simon had. They give them my picture, they could truthfully say they'd never seen me before.

So I had to settle for this. It was done. I'd already spent the day closing accounts and shutting down credit cards -- the only one I'd left running was our main account, because Deanna lived on the debit card we had for that. Closing that would have alerted her, so I just took my name off the account instead.

So that was it. I reached out and turned off my iPhone, then nodded at both of my co-conspirators, and headed out saying, "Gotta finish fixing the locks."

I got home in about twenty minutes and when I got here, Melissa was hostile.

"What the hell did you do? Deanna was on my cell, crying and yelling and incoherent. Did you do something at a ball game or something?"

I sighed, grabbed a diet coke from the fridge and said, "Melissa, here's the deal. Deanna has been cheating on me for weeks. I found out. She's been served and she has a restraining order on her until we can work out visitation. She's not coming in here -- I've already loaded her clothes and toiletries into suitcases in the garage. Now you understand what I said about a new room mate, because she sure as shit isn't staying here."

Melissa was just beside herself with anger. And...strangely, I think there was something else in there too. Understanding.

She muttered, "Why can't anyone just keep it in their pants?" and then she just nodded at me and said, "I'll take care of her. You will need to talk to her."

"I know. Just not now. I'm still too angry at her. Just, when she gets here, give her the clothes and explain she cannot come in -- if she tries to, well, I've already changed most of the locks, I just have to finish the garage entry, and besides, one call to 911 and she's in lockup for the night. She doesn't want that. She's had enough today already. The terms of the divorce are spelled out in her document package and I'm being generous, so she should just take them."

Melissa sighed and did something so out of character -- she hugged me. I couldn't believe it.

"It sucks, doesn't it?"

I just looked at her and nodded.

"Tony," -- Tony was her millionaire husband, "cheated constantly. No one knows. I stuck it out because, well, I loved him and of course, the money. But it fucking sucks, what it does to your ego and how you treat everyone else. I'm so sorry Ryan. That my dumb ass sister could do this. I just don't get it, though. She loves you, she adores her life here with the kids. She keeps telling me. What the fuck?"

"I don't know either, Melissa. Perhaps she'll tell me when she's ready. Because I have no fucking clue."

And then, for the next hour, we just sat and talked, Melissa and I. In a way we never had before. I learned she didn't trust any man because of what Tony had done. I don't think she liked me any more at the end of it, but at least we understood each other, and what more can you ask?

And the Deanna arrived and all hell broke loose. She tried the front door and found her key didn't work, and then she came around to the front windows and started hammering on them, screaming my name.

Melissa went outside and tried to calm a very distraught Deanna, who was screaming for the kids.

I'd already primed them to stay upstairs. I'd explained that Mommy had done something pretty bad and she was going to stay at Aunt Melissa's for a while, and they'd still see her just as much, but that she just wasn't going to be at home for a bit. I also explained she was likely to be upset and yell a lot and they mustn't be frightened -- Mommy was just letting go with her emotions, like they do when they stub their toe.

It took Melissa almost half an hour to calm Deanna to the point where she stopped hammering on the windows. I heard the garage door go up, and them pull the bags out, and then Deanna was back, peering in through the kitchen window.

I was in the doorway, where I knew she wouldn't see me, but I could see her.

"Ryan? Ryan, are you there? I need to talk to you. Please Ryan, please. You can't take my kids from me, please Ryan."

I snorted when I realized she was just concerned about the kids. Not me or what she'd done to use as a marriage, she just wanted her nice safe life back.

I didn't say anything. I could see her looking around, looking to see if I was there. I'm sure she knew I would be. If Melissa was there, then the kids would be, so I would be too.

"Ryan, please. It was nothing. Nothing at all. I love you Ryan. Only you. You've got to believe that. I need to talk to you, please."

I didn't move, and after five minutes, Melissa came round and took Deanna by the shoulders and moved her off, talking to her rapidly. I heard the cars start up and watched Melissa's car leave, which was a smart move. Deanna was in no state to drive.

And that was the last I saw of Deanna for three weeks. Not that she didn't try to call, text and email -- she couldn't have given a shit about the restraining order, and to be honest, I wasn't about to enforce it. It was more symbolic than anything. I actually had it removed two weeks in, once she'd settled down -- I just didn't get around to telling her that.

Two weeks in, my lawyer, Sarah Gold called and told me that Deanna had finally hired her own lawyer -- with Melissa's money, natch. He was, apparently, a nobody ambulance chaser, which was fine by me. But she was point blank refusing to grant a divorce, or any kind of separation agreement. She wanted visitation rights in the short term -- which I was quite willing to grant, given that I rescinded the restraining order, and she wanted time to meet with me.

I knew this had to be coming. And I knew I'd have to let her. Hell, I wanted to know her justifications, but I knew I'd needed some time to let it all recede a bit. Maybe now was the time. Life had settled a bit, Deanna had seen the kids -- I'd had Melissa come get them and take them over to her place, where Deanna was staying -- and we'd started to settle into a routine. The kids were still giving me a lot of grief about where Mom was and why she wasn't at home, but they were also getting on with life.

So I got Sarah to set it up, and also let her know that the restraining order was rescinded and we could make a time for Deanna to stop by and get anything from the house that I had missed.

We ended up meeting at Red Robin, of all places, at 3pm, when I figured they'd be somewhat empty. There was no way I was doing this in front of lawyers, and I wasn't doing it at home, so Red Robin it was. It didn't hurt that they had a full bar there too.

I got there first, sat down and had a beer and within five minutes, Deanna appeared. She always was punctual.

She was dressed slightly differently -- a maxi dress with a low back, I couldn't help noticing. She did look lovely, even with the puffy eyes, and it stabbed my heart. She gave me a hesitant smile and said, "Starting early I see?" and she gestured to my beer.

"You've driven me to drink. What can I say," I replied, only a little bitterly.

Her smile froze, but she made a conscious effort to overcome it as she slid into her seat opposite me at the booth.

"Well, this is your gig. Say what you need to." I wanted to give her the floor. I was bursting with desire to know certain things, and maybe she'd tell me. But I wasn't going to ask.

"Yes, I did. Well, here goes. Firstly, I am so sorry. I just can't understand what I was doing. I think I must have been insane or something."

I interrupted her because I wasn't going to let that slide. "No, you weren't. You systematically and coldly betrayed me, our marriage and the kids. You knew exactly what you were doing. Hell, you even had your 'rules' so it wouldn't blow back at home. You weren't insane - far from it. You knew exactly what you needed to do."

She just looked at me, shocked. I realized that she still didn't know the full extent of what I knew or not.

"I know. What I mean was I don't know what drove me to do it. I love our life. I love our kids. I love you. You are such a good guy. I know what I did, I just don't really know why."

"Oh, I've got some ideas on that. Your sudden desire for high-risk sex, for one. What I don't understand was why you never came to me? Why didn't you ask me? I didn't think our sex life was that bad that you'd need to go elsewhere? But then what do I know. I'm just a rumpled suit."

"You've been talking to Crystal. That's a Crystal statement."

"How do you think I got the inside dope on what you were doing?"

There was silence as she digested this.

"That explains a lot. She rolled? I don't really blame her. It explains why she wouldn't cover for me, and why I got fired. You knew, right? She called me after the stadium debacle and asked me to remove my stuff from the apartments I staged and explained that she'd been told that Royalty Realty didn't want people like me who brought attention like this. I left all the stuff at...Jordan's place. I didn't want to go back there and god knows he doesn't want to see me, either. The only contact we've had is him calling me to rip me apart because his wife is divorcing him. Apparently she got hold of some video of us together and that was that. He blames me, I blame him, and it's all a fucking stupid merry go round."

Deanna never swore, so that was new.

"Can I get a drink?"

"Sure," I nodded, and waved over the waitress. She ordered and was just sat there, silently, till the drink arrived.

"He went ballistic, you know. When your picture appeared on the scoreboard at the stadium. He recognized you as some guy who'd shown up to see his apartment. He knew at the moment it was all going to come out. He swore a lot, and was really angry and then ran off, leaving me. I just sat there, crying, realizing what it all meant. And then I left and got to my car, where there is some girl waiting, chewing gum as pretty as you please, and she asks me my name and hands me this envelope..."

Deanna broke off as a tear came down her cheek. She wiped it with one hand and made a huge effort to control herself.

"I promised myself I wouldn't cry. I didn't think you deserved that."

"What did I deserve Deanna? What do I deserve now?" I asked, as gently as I could. I'd already had my revenge; there was no point in yelling at her now.

"Better than me, that's for sure." She responded softly, looking down at the table.

I just looked at her. I wasn't about to disagree, but there wasn't anything really for me to say.

There was more silence as she reached for what to say next.

"I had a whole speech planned, you know. Everything I wanted to say. But now I'm here and you are there, and you are just so controlled and I'm such a mess."

She took another breath.

"Ok, well, lets get to it. Firstly, you are not a rumpled suit. Well, maybe you are but you are so much more than that. You are a terrific father, a wonderful man, an adoring husband and an amazing lover. Any woman would be incredibly lucky to have you. Ignore what Crystal says -- she's just bitter that her marriage is cratering and she's looking for attention in all the wrong places. We had a heart to heart before she fired me about what I was doing and what she'd been doing. She opened my eyes to a few things that I'd just conveniently ignored. Anyway, what you need to take away from this, if nothing else, is that you did nothing wrong. I was at fault all the way here. Don't let this harm your self image because I couldn't keep it in my pants."

Again, I wasn't about to disagree, but I had to say something.

"Yeah, easy for you to say. You weren't being cheated on. Do you know what that does to a man Deanna? Do you? Do you understand how you look at everything you've ever done and judge yourself for it? How you cannot understand what you did wrong, what you didn't give, what you were insufficient for? Because I was not sufficient to the task, or you wouldn't have looked elsewhere."

The tears started to flow again, and she said, with a tremor in her voice, "It kills me to see you like this Ryan. To know I did this to you. You are nothing but a terrific man. In every way. The only failure here is me. For not seeing what I had. No, that's not right. I knew what I had. And I loved it. I still do. Those kids, our house, our lives. It's what I always wanted. But just, for some reason, it wasn't enough. You know what? I didn't even know I thought that until Jordan came along. I was happy. I was content. And then this opportunity came along. I could get away with it. You'd NEVER know, I'd make sure of that. It was fresh, it was exciting, it made me feel young and that I had a secret all my own. I know how stupid it all sounds now, but the feelings were real. I know I deliberately blinded myself to the consequences of my actions, but at the time, I was just consumed with it. And that's my failure, not yours. Please understand that. You did nothing wrong. In fact, you do more for my ego and happiness than anyone has ever done. The flowers, the attention, it's not lost on me."

"And yet it wasn't enough."

"I don't know what would have been, Ryan. I think I was just weak and it all got out of control. I never came home with...him...in me though. I didn't do anything for him that I didn't do with you I promise you. He got nothing more."

"Apart from your ass." I said, bitterness seeping through.

"Oh god, you know about that too?"

I tilted my head and let the silence happen.

"Shit. Yes, he did. I wanted to give it to you, but you were drunk. Only, you weren't, were you? That whole thing from coming home from Madison. It was a set up, wasn't it? You knew? You just didn't want to touch me. Oh my god, how could I not see that? I knew something was wrong but I thought it was just a combination of things, like you said." I could see the realization hitting her, putting two and two together. She always was smart.

"Don't be down on yourself Deanna," I said dryly, "You fooled the hell out of me for weeks. Call it payback."

She snorted at that. Then she said, hesitantly, in a slightly tight voice, "Did you really have to do that at the Stadium? On the big screen? You couldn't have just had me served later? You had to humiliate me that way?"