The Most Dangerous Man in the Room

Instead of getting help I got an earful. "Someone called me last night and them emailed some pictures. If I help you in any way, my husband gets the pictures. Good luck, asshole!"

It suddenly occurred to me to try my debit card, so I went to an ATM, sure my account was frozen. Surprised to see it intact and available, I withdrew enough money for food, a couple of changes of clothes and a cheap suitcase. It took me two days to get back to Arlington, and the first thing I did was go to the storage facility, relieved to see all my clothes and my car.

Maybe things were getting better. I got new cards the next day. There was a voicemail telling me to pick them up at my old house by the end of the day or they would be tossed. It broke my heart to walk up the steps of that old brick mansion. There was a note with the cards. "This is our last interaction until we sign the final decree. If you come back again, you'll get a restraining order served on you."

When the paperwork arrived at my new apartment, I took them to the lawyer I'd retained. He looked them over. "You need to sign these before she changes her mind. You're never going to do better than this."

"What if I don't want a divorce? Can we get counseling."

He stopped smiling. "There's a separate note in here from your wife. She says to tell you if you give her the slightest bit of grief, she'll turn the whole law office loose on you. Even with the money she'll give you, the legal fees would bankrupt you. Don't be an idiot, sign the papers."

I did. Five months later I got the decree. Seems we didn't have to be present or interact at all.

Arlington was a suburb of Washington, and a lot of government guys live in the better higher end or the gated communities. I lived far from that affluence, but one night I walked out of a bar and three guys grabbed me, putting a sack over my face. Whatever they put on it had me out in seconds. I woke up naked, strapped on a horse, my head inches from its ass. One of them pulled my head up and whispered in my ear. "This is just a reminder. We haven't forgotten you."

He led the horse somewhere and then gave a tremendous swat. On my ass, not on the horse. I wore a handprint for two months. He'd let the horse go in a pasture beside the road. A road that saw a lot of school bus traffic. A lot of photos were taken before the bus driver called the locals. The pictures were on the local news that evening, but luckily, I still had the bag over my face, they pixilated my ass, and they didn't release my name.

I was given a jail sweatsuit, filled out a report and was driven home. They promised me they would investigate my story, but I never heard back. I decided it was time for a change, moved farther south and flinched every time I heard a loud noise.

Oddly enough, my novel generated a lot of sales. I made enough off it in the first six months to live comfortably for two years. Then my publisher sent me a letter saying the book was the last on the contract and they had no intention of offering me another one.

It took a few months before I found another publisher in Florida willing to work with me, if I signed a two-book deal that paid me peanuts. I took it, giving them a book, I'd already written. I had another done, but I just didn't want to give them both at the same time. They published the books and they did well. They were surprised when I refused another contract. I found a well-connected agent who negotiated a pretty good deal with a more mainstream house. My first book with the new publisher hit the best seller list at the bottom and stayed for two weeks, but it was enough. We bought the rights to my previous two back and one ended up as a streaming movie.

I bought a small house in the interior of Florida and kept a low profile. Then I met a local doing research. She was younger, brash, and hunted pythons in the Everglades for a living. Seems the state paid a pretty good bounty on them. She was impressed I was a writer and I was impressed with her marksmanship. When we got serious, I sat her down and told her my whole history, including the cheating. I promised her if we were exclusive I would never more than look at another woman. She thought about that and the next morning she took me out in her airboat. We were in the middle of nowhere, tall grasses all around us, and I was nervous. "I thought about what you said last night," she said before throwing her rifle on her shoulder and losing a shot, then taking a long-handled hook and pulling a 16-foot python into the boat, grinning.

"That's worth 200. Like I was sayin', I'm not gonna worry about you being faithful. If we get hitched and you fuck around, Pappy will give you a ride to where we are now, but he won't give you a ride back. Still want me?"

I looked at her in her cutoff jeans, so high her ass was almost hanging out, the shirt tied up under her braless breasts, wearing a cap over her long ponytail, and thought she was the hottest thing in Florida. "I can live with that."

We sealed the deal when we got back to firm ground. The marriage took place four months later, and she was already starting to show. My next book, about betrayal and revenge in the Florida Everglades, did really, really well. The lead character was a woman: a very confident, skilled woman.

I had to go back to my old haunts to talk to a producer who was going to be on the East Coast for a limited time. He was really keen to get the video rights, saying the visuals would be amazing. I grinned, thinking about a film crew in the 'glades getting eaten alive. I'd lived there two years by then, and still had to coat every exposed bit of skin with repellant. They didn't seem to bother my wife, which she thought was no end of hilarious.

I started not to go, but my agent and my wife threatened to kick my ass. Carly was pregnant again and said we needed a bigger house.

*****

I made her go with me. When we first got together, I thought she would be uncomfortable away from home, but she surprised me. Add that to the fact that she cleaned up very, very well, and it left me nervous and jittery when we had to attend functions related to my work. She would see me and grin, licking her lips in a way she knew drove me crazy, then go back to talking to some slick corporate type who didn't have a snowball's chance in hell of scoring.

Jeremy was two and she insisted we take him along. She made us visit a few places in DC, and I thought I was going to have to drag her out of the Smithsonian. My agent had flown up with us, and she spent a little time before we met with the producer and his team. She was grinning when we walked in.

There was a little give and take, but in the end, they signed an option on the book and gave me a check for a hundred grand, which meant that when they made it, I would get almost a million before taxes and expenses. Carly was grinning and I knew she was planning the new house on the two hundred acres she had her eye on ever since it went up for sale. It had been on the market for a year, very few people wanted to live there and she was sure we'd get a good price.

She wanted to see my old neighborhood, and while I was uncomfortable, if Carly wanted something, she usually got it. Her Dad told me once she'd beat the crap out of two girls at the same time when they expressed interest in me. "You never had a chance, son," he said as he grinned.

We got out the stroller for Jeremy and walked around the shaded streets with their opulent homes. I thought about our home in Florida with the blazing heat and torrential rains and wished I was there. Jeremy was fussing and we stopped so I could carry him. I saw the couple coming towards us, but never paid any attention until they were right on us.

I looked up, right into the eyes of Jasmine. The blond man with her looked familiar and I couldn't place him. They had a little girl of about three who was chattering away to Jeremy and he was smiling. She looked confused for a second before smiling. "Hello, Jimmy."

"Jasmine."

I was on guard until Carly poked me in the ribs. "Darlin', aren't you going to introduce me to your friends?" I noted she put her hand on mine and her look said 'don't touch'.

"Jasmine, this is my wife, Carly, and my son, Jeremy. Carly, this is my ex-wife, Jasmine. I'm sorry but I don't know the name of..."

"My husband, James. This little beauty is Tiffany."

He didn't offer to shake my hand and it hit me who he was. The guy from the restaurant, the husband I'd cuckolded. Seems like flocked to like. He was old money and was still working, but he didn't travel and had joined his father-in-law at the thinktank he had helped found.

I took a step back and Carly stepped in front of me, the message in her eyes clear. He just smiled and told her she had a beautiful child. Just as I walked away Jasmine grinned. "Believe it or not, I read your books. You've gotten a lot better. I particularly liked your last."

"Thanks," I said surprised. "I think I finally grew up. I'd like to say I wished I'd done it earlier but then I wouldn't have Carly. I think in the end it worked out well for all of us."

She laughed. "Spoken like a true writer. Goodbye, Jimmy."

*****

Jasmine and her new husband stood on the sidewalk watching them walk away.

"Think they'll stay together?"

Her husband grinned. "I think so. I doubt he would be stupid enough to jeopardize what he has now. Besides, if I read her right, if he tried anything, he'd be gator bait before a week was out. It looks like he landed on his feet."

She rubbed his arm. "At least she got him quick. I had to chase you for eighteen months to get you to go out with me."

"You know I felt something. But I didn't want to be rebound guy. I wanted enough time to go by until you were sure."

"To be in a top notch thinktank, you're not too smart. I told Daddy before six months was up you were going to be mine."

"Well, all good things to those who wait. What's it going to be, a boy or a girl?"

She put her hand to her stomach. "I wanted to surprise you! How did you know?"

"You had the exact same smile when you were carrying Tiffany, and you rub your tummy a lot. Not bad for the dumbest guy in the tank, huh?"

"You have your moments," she said as he bent down to pick up their daughter. Then she giggled. "Strapping him to a horse, naked and backwards, you really think that was necessary?"

"What makes you think it was me? You know he had four women on a string. My vote is the Tulsa cowboy. Besides, I would have strapped him under the animal, so he could enjoy whatever came out of its backside. Tiffany, what do you say to an ice cream cone?"

"Yaah! Come on, Mommy."

She smiled as she followed them down the sidewalk, listening to her daughter's excited chatter. He could deflect all he wanted; she'd seen the look in his eyes when he saw her ex.

*****

I'd like to thank my friends, and all the writers who have helped me over the years. There were a lot, and I thank you all. And of course, to Randi and her mad editing skills.

This is an end of the affair story. Yes, he was a cheating asshole. Did he redeem himself? That's your call. A lot of people get happily ever after whether they deserve it or not. Most people don't get it right the first time. I didn't. Or the second. But I struck gold on the third, 38 years and counting. If you're interested, I wasn't the cheat in the practice runs. Where do you think my stories come from?

Thanks for reading,

Q