He nodded. "I know the guy you mean. He did me – he really did me last year."
"Uh-huh," I said. "He did me the year before and it hurt bad."
Al was obviously puzzled. "Who the hell are you two talking about?"
Marv chuckled. "Professors wouldn't know about it. It's called the IRS."
Marv made the call and sent copies of the detectives' reports and customer lists and estimated earnings. Pedro's condo in Sausalito was empty in a matter of days and our wives didn't have a visit from the pool guy the next week. It was not the perfect solution, of course, but it was a solution. Our nightmare was over.
Now our wounded and battered egos could start to heal. But when your wife has been laughing at your pecker, it takes a long time to forget about it.
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