Reality Check

Bill didn't need to be a fighter to pull this off. He was sure he didn't know the man, and the asshole couldn't possibly know him either. That meant Bill had the advantage of anonymity. "That jackass won't even know who or what hit him." Bill quietly said to himself as he grinned.

Still there was a gap in his plan. Bill needed something more to pull this thing off. If he could just find out who that dickhead was... Then it would be easy. Knowing that guy's name was key. Bill needed to know who that asshole was if he had any chance of exercising his revenge.

Bill didn't go to work for the rest of the week. He didn't sleep much either. Every time he closed his eyes, visions of that video ran over and over through his head. Then the angst and torment he had worked so hard to suppress would start up all over again.

The following day, tired and broken, Bill toiled through his plan. Between tearful bouts of depression and raging fits anger, he was able to pull together a list of all of their assets, investments and accounts. He used that information to further formulate his plan to leave as little as possible for that cheating bitch to be awarded in their up coming divorce.

The plan actually came together rather quickly. Much faster than Bill thought it ever could. By the end of that first day he had moved as much of their savings and investments as possible into new accounts, and pocketed the working cash he knew he would need to pull this thing off.

Bill lamented the fact that he had to leave the minimum balances behind in the old accounts. He didn't want to leave her a single penny, but closing those accounts completely would have required that Jennifer co-sign. That's where the second mortgage needed to kick in. The negative equity it created would have to be larger than the money left behind.

The next day Bill decided that a call to Tony Spenosa was in order. The call was short and cryptic by design, and late that afternoon Bill found himself pulling into the parking lot at Dino's Place, preparing to meet Tony face to face.

Dino's was a seedy little place down by the docks that served as the unofficial home of the Longshoreman's union local 121. It had a rough reputation for being the kind of place where the underworld did its business, and where a guy could meet his end for saying the wrong thing just a bit to loud. Nothing good ever came out of this place, and Bill was counting on that.

As Bill drove through the lot he saw that Tony was already there. His work truck was parked up front, near the entrance. It wasn't hard to spot Tony's truck. It was the one covered with old ladders frozen to their racks by rusted clamps that hadn't been moved in years. Tony didn't work for a living. Not in the way most people think of work anyway, and right now Bill needed someone like that.

Bill stepped inside Dino's Place and heard the familiar crack of billiard balls being scattered on a pool table. The place still smelled of stale beer like it always had, and the ever present pall of cigarette smoke still lingered in the air. Bill looked at the table where the balls had been scattered. He swore the loser hustling pool was the same gay that was there ten years ago.

Just beyond the pool tables Tony sat at the bar, nursing a beer and picking through a bowl of stale pretzels. Bill saddled up next to his old friend and nodded to the bartender to get whatever swill it was they had on tap. Then he pulled a couple of crisp new benjamins from his pocket to cover the tab. Ten of that $200 more than covered their beers. The rest was there to ensure that if anyone asked, Bill and Tony were ever there.

Then the two talked about old times, who was still around, who was in the slammer, and where they had heard other guys from the old neighborhood had moved to. They retold a few of their old jokes, and tried out a couple of new ones, laughing under their breath at the dirty ones as if they were still a couple of ten year olds.

Not one thing was discussed about Bill's wife or the dirty business at hand, but when it came time to go, Bill and Tony exchanged envelopes. Now Tony had the cash for a trip to the Bahamas, and Bill had a report from a so called licensed assessor, showing that his home was worth far more than it would ever sell for.

The next day Bill went to the bank Tony told him to use and applied for a second mortgage, talking the whole time about the new baby and how much they needed the money for and addition to their home.

Bill's story made no difference. The terms were lousy and the rate was ridiculous, but Bill didn't care. The second mortgage would close in just a few days, and the home Jennifer would undoubtedly be awarded in the divorce would be less than worthless.

Later that night, Bill was finally able to to get the horrible visions out of his head, by way of the rare bottle of fine scotch Jennifer's father had given her just before he passed away. Sleep followed soon after the last few drops of sweet liquor fell from the bottle... That is, if passing out cold counts as sleep.

The next morning Bill awoke to the blaring of his alarm clock. It wasn't any louder than every other morning, but with his head throbbing from the worst hangover he'd ever had, it felt like someone had replaced that alarm with an air raid siren.

Bill wanted nothing more than to take something to stop the pounding in his head and go back to sleep, but he had work to do. Something that he knew would be quite unpleasant. A job that he was most definitely not looking forward to.

As much as Bill never wanted to see that video again, he needed to go through it, frame by frame if necessary, and try to figure out where the hell that hotel was. If he knew that, he had a better chance of catching his wife red handed, or with a little luck he would find a way to hunt down the son of a bitch that was fucking his wife.

Watching his wife give her love away was no easier this time around. Turning the sound off helped, but Bill found himself blocking the view of the sex in the video with his fingers as he looked for clues. Still he felt the inevitable tears welling up in his eyes, knowing full well what was going on just the other side of his outstretched hand.

After several passes, he finally spotted something he thought he could use. There it was on sitting on the nightstand. A pen, visible for just a moment before being obscured by the thick white goo his wife was spitting onto the floor.

Bill couldn't make out the logo on the pen, but that pen was blue, and the particular shade of blue told him all he needed to know. Bill had one of those pens. It was the same kind of pen had gotten at the Atlanta conference. By god, his wife was getting fucked at the Hilton.

Bill still felt like hammered shit from his hangover, but armed with this new information, he wasn't about to piss the day away in bed. Now he knew that Jennifer was in a Hilton. He also figured there was a good chance Jennifer never even left the city. Where else could she have met the dickhead she was fucking? It had to be somewhere in town... somewhere she frequented. A fact finding mission was definitely in order.

Bill drove to the closest Hilton he knew. The one out by Spaghetti Junction where the Interstates all come together. He walked into the lobby and damned if he didn't see those blue pens everywhere. He went to the desk and asked if he could be connected to the guest named Jennifer Simms, but he was told there was no guest by that name.

Bill expected that much, but that didn't stop him. He had a backup plan. He wandered through the hotel looking for a maid service cart, hoping to find a master room key.

He didn't find the key he wanted, but he did find a room next to a cart that was wide open, and not a single maid in sight. He took one step into that room, and bingo. Everything about the room was a perfect match to the room in the video.

'Maybe this is it.' Bill thought. 'This is probably the hotel. In fact, I'll bet they are here right now making fun of me while they fuck each other's brains out.'

Bill knew what he had to do now. He would have to walk every hallway. Moving from room to room. Listening at every door. Waiting to hear the tell-tale sounds of his wife having sex.

For hours Bill did just that, using his ears instead of his eyes to look for his wife. The hotel was large and the going was slow, but Bill was determined. So determined, in fact, that he didn't notice when two stern looking men in monogrammed blazers walked up behind him.

"Sir." One of the men barked. "May we see your room key?"

"No. I'm looking for someone." Bill explained without pulling away from the door he had his ear to.

"We are going to have to ask you to leave then." The other man declared.

Bill pulled his head away and looked at the two men. "Who the fuck are you? You can't tell me where I can and can't be."

"We are hotel security sir, and we've received complaints that a man fitting your description has been acting strangely and listening to people in their rooms. Either show us your key or you will have to leave."

"Well, I'm not leaving. Not until I find what I came here for, and if you don't like that, you two dullards can fuck the hell off."

"Sir," one of the guards said as they both grabbed Bill and crammed both of his arms up high behind his back. "You'll have to come with us."

Bill tried to fight back, but it was no use. Their grip was like a vise. These two muscle headed freaks must have spent half of every day in the gym. Bill couldn't get an arm free to take a swing at either one of them, and with his legs busy trying to stand his ground, kicking them wasn't working out any better.

The whole incident ended in less than thirty seconds when the guards shoved Bill out through a side door and threw him down in the alley, right next to the hotel's garbage bins.

"Go home." One of the guards ordered.

"Don't come back or we will call the cops." The other one one warned.

The hotel's hired muscle then made a show of dusting off their hands as they went back inside. Acting as if bullying Bill was a big nothing to them. Loudly pulling that side door closed. Latching it securely behind them.

'Fuck those muscle heads,' Bill thought. 'I'm going to find that cheating bitch if it's the last thing I do.'

Bill dusted himself off and headed back to the hotel, trying every unlocked entrance he could find, but everywhere he went one of those burly security guards was there to stop him. It was like they knew exactly where he would try next. Bill finally realized they must have hidden cameras everywhere, and he stopped trying to challenge the hotel's blazer clad authorities. It didn't matter. He had yet another plan.

If he couldn't get into the hotel, he reasoned. He would just have to wait for his wife to come out. Bill sat in his car prepared to spend days if needed, watching the entrance, hoping to see his wife leaving. With a little luck, he thought, they would leave together. Then he would have them both.

Bill didn't end up waiting long. In less than twenty minutes one of those stern looking security guards showed up next to Bill's car, and this time he was accompanied by the police. Bill immediately asked the officer to arrest the guard for assaulting him and throwing him down in the alley.

Of course that fucking security prick didn't have a thing to say. He just stood there with his arms folded looking smug while the officer told Bill he could either leave, or he would be placed under arrest. Bill grumbled under his breath about what tyrants they were, then reluctantly started his car and pulled away.

The only place Bill had left to go was home, and by the time he pulled into his driveway he was fit to be tied. It almost seemed like everyone in the city was helping his wife get away with cheating. Either that, or no one else in the entire city really cared. Bill just knew his wife was in that hotel getting fucked and making fun of him, but no one would allow him to prove it. This whole thing had left Bill as mad as he had ever been in his life.

"Cheat on me will you." He venomously spat as he slammed his car door so violently that it sprang back at him, requiring it to be slammed again.

"Think you can divorce me and take all the money for yourself." He grumbled as he stomped up the sidewalk.

"Hide away in some hotel and fuck another man will you." He growled as he slammed the front door behind him so hard every window the house shook.

"Hey, mister. What's with all the door slamming?" Jennifer asked as she emerged fresh from a shower wrapped in a towel, tilting her head as she dried her hair.

"What the fuck are you doing home?" Bill sarcastically asked. "Doesn't your dying sister still need you?"

"She was never dying, and she's healing so well that that I came..."

"Yeah you came alright... and came and came." Bill interrupted.

"What the heck is that supposed to mean? Is that any way to greet your wife after she's been away for a week?"

"You cheating whore. You do too know what I mean." The volume of Bill's voice started rise. "I know what you've been up to. I know that you weren't at your sister's. I know you've been in a hotel room fucking some god damned asshole."

"What? Where is this coming from Bill? Have you been drinking?" Jennifer's brow furrowed with worry.

"No I haven't been drinking, and you haven't been helping your god dammed sister either. You've been fucking another man and I have the tape to prove it."

"Bill, I haven't done anything like that. How could you say such a thing?" Jennifer started to plead. "Stop it. You are scaring me."

"Don't you lie to me Jennifer. I saw you. I saw you with my own two eyes, and I heard every one of those mean things you said about me."

Now shouting, Bill walked toward his wife wagging an accusatory finger in her face. "Well I'm not going to stand here and be your stupid money machine while you take on a lover. Oh, and I hope his fucking cum tasted bad."

With that, Jennifer retreated to the bathroom, securely locking the door behind her. "Bill, you're talking crazy talk." She shouted through her tears. "What's gotten into you? Are you on drugs?"

"No I'm not on drugs, and I haven't been drinking." Bill yelled as he pounded on the door. "Now unlock this door and come out here. You've got some serious explaining to do."

Jennifer had no intention of unlocking that door, and her shaking hands couldn't seem dial 911 anywhere near fast enough.

When the cops showed up Bill was still yelling at Jennifer through the bathroom door, going on and on about that glob of cum he saw drooling from her mouth. It took three officers and a shot from a taser to subdue Bill. Even with all that, he was so mad he that continued to put up one hell of a fight.

Bill was thrown into a holding cell, where he spent a long lonely night wondering why he was the one in jail, instead of the cheating whore who actually deserved to be punished. With all of the careful plans he had made, he never imagined anything like this happening.

He sat and tried to rationalize why he had done what he did. He wanted to figure how to explain to the judge what had happened. What was it going to take to get out of this jam? How could he get anyone to understand he wasn't the bad guy here? Did anyone out there give even a fraction of a fuck that his wife was cheating on him? Eventually Bill passed out cold, dead asleep from pure exhaustion.

Midway through the next morning, Bill awoke to someone poking him in the ribs... "Get up dirt bag." The woman at the end of the nightstick shouted.

Bill was beaten, tired, and hungry, and as he tried to pull away he found he was far too sore to resist. It was all he could do to not grimace as the large woman in an officer's uniform cuffed his hands behind his back and yanked him up to his feet.

"This way." The guard ordered as she roughly pushed Bill along with the business end of her nightstick.

The soreness in his legs made it hard for Bill to walk, yet the guard kept shoving him along as if they were running late for church. At the end of the hallway they came to a door. With the sound of a buzzer that door unlatched and started to open. The guard didn't wait. She just shoved Bill through as if the door wasn't even there.

On the other side of the door Bill found Jennifer standing with her arms tightly folded and an icy glare on her face that clearly showed she was not in the least bit amused.

"You're a lucky man." The officer smugly said as she unlatched the cuffs from his wrists. "She's not pressing charges. If it were up to me, I'd let you rot."

The officer then handed Bill a large envelope. Bill took out his wallet and checked to make sure his money was still there. He pocketed his keys and phone, then without a word he strung his belt through the loops on his pants and buckled it in the first hole that would comply. The officer took back the envelope and dumped Bill's shoestrings on the counter. Bill stood silent and pocketed the strings, without ever looking up from the floor.

Bill continued his silence on the ride home, leaning his head against the window trying to stay as far away from Jennifer as he could. The mere thought of Jennifer touching him with her soiled whoring hands repulsed him. Bill just stared out the window as he lamented the things he had said and done late the day before.

He had let his anger get the best of him. He had lost his cool. Dropped charges or not, he now had an arrest record. That little stunt had put his plan in jeopardy. Now it wouldn't matter if Jennifer was out fucking a thousand other men. From this point on, Bill knew he was going to look like the bad guy in this thing.

That just made Bill all the more determined to leave Jennifer with absolutely nothing. Hiding that money wasn't good enough anymore. He didn't want even a sliver of a chance it would be found. He wanted to make sure that an entire army of accountants, lawyers, and judges would never find it.

Bill knew what had to happen. He knew what he would have to do. He was going to have to make it all go away... vanish... disappear. He was going to have to spend every last dime of that money on something. Something that had no value whatsoever.

Bill fumed about what to do with the money until they arrived home, but as soon as they pulled into the driveway all he could think about was making it to the bathroom. All that night before he wasn't about to come anywhere near the stool in that disease infested holding cell, and his need to relieve himself had now become incredibly urgent.

Bill made a bee line to the very bathroom Jennifer had locked herself into less than 24 hours earlier, and when he was finished with his business he looked in the mirror. The man staring back at him looked like death warmed over, and he looked a damn sight better than Bill actually felt. He wanted nothing more than to go to bed and forget his problems for a while, but when he came out of the bathroom Jennifer was there waiting for him.

"Bill," She said. "Come sit with me so we can talk about this."

'This is it,' Bill thought to himself. 'She's going to confess her affair, and probably ask for forgiveness.' Bill shook his head in disgust and quietly mumbled to himself, "No way... No way in hell will I ever forgive her for this."

"Okay Bill," Jenifer timidly started as she watched him drop into the furthest chair from her. "I don't know what's going on with you, but it seems like you might be having a nervous breakdown or something. I called Doctor Weiss this morning and told her what happened. She wants to see you. I know what you think of psychologists, but Doctor Weiss isn't a quack, and I really think she can help you."

With that, Bill's mind went into overdrive. He knew he had to keep quiet, but his anger made it a struggle to keep from blurting out what he was thinking...