Victor and Isabelle

"Jennifer, that's the best I've felt in weeks," I said. She giggled.

"I'm glad, Victor. You should ask me out sometime. I mean if you know the Texas Two Step," she said, as she exited the car. I sat there in a semi-coma before waking to what she'd said. I pushed my door open, stood, and called after her.

"Jennifer?"

"Yes?" she said, turning toward me.

"Saturday night? Sevenish?" I said. She nodded coquettishly. I smiled as I made my way back to the garage. It'd been some two months since the final decree. I was still in a blue funk. Still trying to figure a way to get my company back or at least away from the dirty duo. Yeah, yeah I was still really really bitter.

But, for the moment the good news was that I loved to dance and a woman of rather better than average good looks was interested in dancing with me. Things were looking up, and I counted that as more than an improvement in my current mental state. Now, all I needed to make my situation mellow was to see my ex slip on a banana peel and bruise her pert little pink butt. I laughed out loud at the image such a thought brought to mind.

The Wild Horse Inn and Dancehall was loud and crowded and our kind of place. Jennifer kinda led me to a table against the wall and to the right of the bandstand.

"Been here before; the music is gonna be loud and this is the best spot to sit if we wanna be able to hear each other between dances," she said. I nodded and smiled. Too many dance halls played the music so loud communication could only realistically be carried on by semaphore.

"Experience is a wonderful thing," I said.

"Yeah, it is," she said.

The first tunes were medium fast, those were followed by a tandem of slow songs. We danced them all. At the end of the second slow one, we reclaimed our seats at the table and said our whews!

"That Was fun," I said, meaning it.

"For sure," said Jennifer. "You've done some dancing in your time, haven't you?"

"Yeah, in the old days I was something of a serious hoofer. Hadn't had much of a chance since then though. Just too busy," I said.

"So your ex shit on yuh?" she said.

"Yeah, yeah. Not like I shouldn't have seen it coming, but I didn't. Now, I'm screwed. I keep telling myself that what goes around comes around. But, if it's comin' around it must be by broken legged Clydesdale. Anyway, I'm not through yet. For now, it's the kids I'm concerned about. I mean they're almost old enough to choose their stay-at place, 16 and just barely 18, but the older one doesn't want to abandon his sister. So, I'm going slow at this point," I said. She nodded.

"You spoken to your ex at all lately?" she said.

"No, don't have a hankerin' to either," I said. "Why? Do you think I should?"

She stirred the drink in front of her, watching it swirl in the stem glass martinis come in. She shrugged. "Not my business, but I'm bettin' she thinks of you from time to time—maybe a lot. I can tell you from personal experience that the grass is almost never greener," she said. "There'll be a time when she wants to talk to you even if you're not so inclined." I nodded.

"Maybe. I sure would like to know why she did what she did, thought what she thought, and chose, what in my opinion, is a complete loser over me. Oh yeah, I guess I really would like to have a serious sit down with that woman," I said.

******

I may have wanted to have a sit down with good 'ole Izzie, but it would be yet two more years before I would even see my ex or her lover. And, when I did, the surprise that she would be layin' upon me would be about the biggest that I had ever had so laid upon me.

******

I gotten a place, not a fancy one, but a regular place soon after I started dating Jennifer. I counted it necessary to not having to try and get ready for my dates in what amounted to a store room.

I was sittin' out on my veranda—well—I was sittin' out on what passed for a marginal excuse of an inadequate veranda. I was watching the sunset. My thoughts turned to the catastrophe that my life had become. Still, with my drink in my hand; it was mellow time. It was, at any rate, until I heard someone behind me clear her throat.

"Victor?"

"Isabelle! Wha—what are you doing here!" I didn't fall out of my chair, but it was a close thing. She smiled, it was a weak smile, but a smile nonetheless.

"Hello, Victor. Sorry if I startled you—really," she said. I nodded.

"Uh—again, what are you doing here, Isabelle," I said.

"May I sit, Victor?" she said. I hesitated, but then I stretched out my hand indicating that she could. "Thank you." I'd already asked her twice why she had so honored me with her presence, so I shut up.

"How have you been?" she said. I smirked. The question had to be the first lines in a comedy routine.

"You know how I've been. I've been screwed, Isabelle. Oh yes, by you; you and that asshole lover of yours," I said. She looked down.

"I deserved that. Victor, I—I—I was defending myself against what I thought you might do to me when you found out I had a lover, Victor.

"I didn't want to do you harm then, Victor, and not now either. Things just kinda got away from me. I mean with the lawyers, well, everything," she said. I was beginning to be suspicious. Something was going on here that was gonna be bad for me, I just knew it.

"And?" I said. She fidgeted.

"You got any influence with the bartender here?" she said.

"You want a drink, Izzie? Whatever it is that you want must be bad if you need a drink. Bad for somebody. Why do I fear that that somebody is me?" I said.

"I deserved that too, Victor. But, no, this evening it's me that's between a rock and a hard place," she said.

"My sympathies," I said.

"The drink?" she said.

"Yeah, yeah, okay." I had a shaker full of martinis; I rose and went and poured her one. Returning, I handed her the drink. I studied her. I saw distress, hope, and a—certain sadness.

We each sipped our cocktails without a word passing between us for some minutes. Finally, she set her drink down on the tiny table between us.

"Victor, we need you," she said. I know my eyes had to have given away my surprise. "The business," I said. She nodded.

Okay, now I had a point of reference. Something was wrong at the company; the one that the two of them had stolen from me.

"The company?" I said, repeating myself; I wanted to hear her say it.

"Yes."

"You mean the one you cheated me out of." It was not a question. She looked uncomfortable but ignored my dig.

"Victor, I'm sorry. But, yes, the company. It's in trouble. Roger and I—well—we didn't—aren't doing as well as you used to. We need, well, we need you. We want you to come back, run things.

"Victor, we will make it worth your while," she said. I sat there dumbfounded. All of a sudden I was in the driver's seat. All of a sudden I was in a position to lay on some hurt; some of the same as was laid on me. I was loving it, but then something else came to me.

It had lain dormant in me until that moment. From the time I was turned away at my own shop until this minute it had lain dormant and lost, but not anymore. It was lust! Lust for the woman who had done me in. I felt like John Dillinger surviving the treachery of the woman in red and wanting to ask her out on a date. Sense? Not even a smidgen, but real nonetheless.

"Tell me, Izzie, why now? Is this a recent problem or is it something that has been festering for a while?" I said.

"We've had problems almost from the beginning. Neither—well, I, didn't realize what was happening. Late deliveries, messed up contracts. Hell, I'm a paralegal for godssakes. I work with some of the best lawyers around; but these contracts with all of those companies you were doing business with—I just don't know," she cried.

"Helluva lot different dealing with the good 'ole boys than messin' with the two martini lunch crowd ain't it, Izzie," I said.

"I'm broke, Victor. In debt actually. Roger too. We fucked up. We—we need you. I need you," she said.

"Whaddya mean need me?" I said. My meaning, the innuendo, was clear. She looked at me sidelong.

"Huh?" she said.

"I said, whaddya mean when you say you need me?"

"Victor, are you saying—asking—what I think you're asking?" she said. She actually looked stunned.

I smiled. "We used to be married, Izzie. Was I so disgusting? Was I such an inadequate lover that I deserved to be destroyed by you and that so called hot shot lawyer—oh, excuse me I mean lover—of yours? Am I so unworthy of you now? Tell me, please." I watched as she broke down.

"That's what I thought," I said. "I'm not worth fucking, just worth bailing your ass out. Oh, but that's right, you're gonna make it worth my while—I forgot. Well, fuck you, Izzie and the goddamn broken down nag you road in on!" My anger had boiled over. My woman in red all of a sudden had really nasty looking warts.

She leapt from her chair and stormed out. I figured that I'd seen the last of her. I figured wrong. She was about to roll out her big guns: weapons the potency of which even I could not ignore. It was two days later.

******

"Daddy? Can I talk to you?" said Lisa. My head whipped around and I saw my baby standing there. She was alone. I got down from the truck that I was working on and came to her. I looked around her and behind myself. Nothing!

"Lisa, how did you get here? Where's your brother!" I said.

"Mom brought me down from college, dad. She asked me to talk to you. Dad, mom is hurting real bad," said Lisa. My dirty doublecrossing ex had actually stooped so low as to use the babies to try and get what she wanted.

I'd been seeing the kids off and on since our breakup; and now, since they'd entered junior college it was a bit less often. Time stands still for nobody, as I now well knew. The kids were growing up. Lisa was just starting in the nursing program and Landry, a year ahead of her, was into the techno thing: computers and what all.

Their mother and I stayed out of each other's way when visiting; that at least had been something. From the gitgo, I had advised my babies never to mention their mother to me or speak to her about me; they had honored my wishes.

"How's that, baby?" I said. I knew of course, but I really wanted to know just how low my ex had stooped.

"She says, well, she's says she and our step dad are going to lose the business if you don't come back. She says she asked you, but you turned her down—kicked her out. Is that true dad?" said Lisa.

"Baby, I turned her down, but I did not kick her out. She did run out, angry I guess, because I wouldn't help her run the business, her and her lover, husband," I said. Lisa nodded.

"She says Landry and I will have to drop out of college if she can't keep the business running, dad. But, it's okay. College is a good thing, but it's not the only way. You sure didn't need to go, huh, dad."

"How are you supposed to get back to the dorms, baby. I mean now, today?" I said.

"Mom's gonna drive us. She's parked down the block," said Lisa.

"Go get her. Tell her to come here. Come here now if she wants me back in the business," I said.

"Dad, Landry and I really don't care about going to college. We can do it some other way, I mean make a living. But mom—well—she's still our mom. She did bad, daddy, but she is still our mom." I nodded.

"Go get her, Lisa. I want you here when I talk to her. Okay?" I said.

"Okay, daddy." It may have been my imagination, but I was sure I saw the glint of pride in my daughter's eyes, as she hurried off down the block.

The two year old Caddy pulled into the yard and a very beautiful Izzie got out and came to me. I was a mess, grimy, smelly, dressed in near rags, with work shoes that actually had the soles taped on; we were a helluva contrast the two of us, and the one in the fancy duds was begging the one in the rags for help; yuh had to love it. I'd been meaning to get new soon as soon as I had the chance.

"Hello, Victor, thank you for seeing me—us," she said. I glared at her. Grabbing a rag I wiped the worst of the muck off of my hands and signaled that she should come inside.

"You too, baby," I said, addressing Lisa. "I'm doing this for you and Landry, and maybe a little bit for me. Okay?" I said.

"Victor, I don't think..." started Izzie.

"Your ability to think is not in question here, though truthfully it is in serious doubt. What is in question is whether or not I am going to bail you and your lover out. Got it?" I said. I wasn't being nice. I knew exactly what I was going to do; I'd had enough time to figure it out. I also knew that they, the two conspirators, were not going to give me my business back, not outright at any rate; they didn't dare. But, I was going to make me a deal that got me a whole lot of satisfaction to say the fucking least. Oh yeah.

"I seated them around the table the employees sometimes used for lunch and breaks. It wasn't too grimy, though Izzie looked tentative as she sat down. I leaned back against the wall; I didn't want to sit.

"Okay, you want me. I have to ask, why isn't asshole here?" I said, not caring an iota that my daughter heard me.

"Victor, please. I beg of you, can we just get on with this," said my ex.

"This is the deal, Izzie. You and your lover want me back. You want me back bad enough to use my baby to influence me. Okay, you've got me, but on the following conditions, and no negotiation. It's my way or no way. Agreed?" she nodded.

One: my lawyer will draw up a new contract favorable to me. You two will just sign it, like I did—period.

Two: I get half of everything, again no negotiation. I should get it all; count yourself lucky—period.

Three: and lastly, you will work for me, not in those law offices anymore if you still are. I have my reasons. Any problem with that?" I said. She looked askance at me. I was pretty sure she was getting my message. That particular ditty, I would make clearer to her the first day we worked together.

"No, no problem, Victor. And, I haven't worked for the firm since—well—since we broke up. We, Roger and I, really are in trouble financially, and we really have no choice," she said.

"No, no you don't," I said. "You may leave now. My lawyer will be in touch on Monday."

She rose, turned to go, turned back, and looked me straight in the eyes. "I'm sorry, Victor, truly. And thank you. I know we will be okay, now. Thank you again."

"Thank Lisa, I'm doing it mostly for her, a little for me, but mostly for her, for her and Landry," I said. My ex nodded. I had one last shot to unload on her.

"Oh, and have a nice evening, Isabelle Christiansen," I said. I got a look from my daughter, and from my ex, for that one. I felt good.

******

My first day back was busier than I could have imagined it would be. Eric had the yards squared away, but the office stuff was a disaster. I immediately called everybody together in the warehouse, including Izzie. Roger was nowhere to be seen, better that way, I thought.

The two of them had signed the contract: one that nullified the old one; the one they screwed me with. The new one would do, for the moment.

Margie took notes.

"Margie," I said, addressing her, "You have no other job but the records for the next two weeks. Izzie will be your assistant, gofer, typist, whatever you need. If mister Christiansen comes around send him in, but don't call him. It's up to him if he wants to be a part of the activity here; I don't give a damn one way or the other." Margie smiled the smile of the recently rescued. Izzie was stony-faced.

I took Eric aside and told him what I wanted him to do. He jumped to it with a broad smile on his face. The whole place was humming with activity before one could say Jack Robinson. Then, it was my turn.

For two days I did little more than make phone calls. Then, it was the field for me. My first month back we charted as much business as the two baddies had during the previous thirteen months. I was feeling good. Even Izzie had a smile on her face at the beginning of each day; the pressure, the financial pressure, was off.

Mister Christiansen did show up, finally. He wanted to know if he could do anything to help out. Since he was still employed during the week at the law offices; he could only be of use on the weekends. Eric was appointed to keep an eye in him; he loved it, Eric did, the overtime was useful to him since his wife was expecting.

One interesting factoid was that the two cheaters and I had had as yet no sit down to talk it out—their cheating ways and what they had done to me. I had not pushed it because I wanted to get the company back on its feet first, no mean feat.

For the next few months things went along swimmingly. Then it was tax time, and Margie called a meeting with me. She had cleaned up and diagnosed everything in the records from the period that I had been gone to the present. It was an eye opener.

"This straight?" I said, looking up from the papers she'd handed me.

"Yes, sir, and, it's the first I've seen of it, well, was sure of it. It took a ton of digging to find the money. He's good. I mean good at hiding things." I fidgeted.

"Was her signatures on any of this stuff?" I said. Margie looked down.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Shelby. It's on almost everything," she said. I nodded.

"Okay, Margie. You can go. Just keep doing the good job you are doing. Oh, and you're back in the regular office, regular duty as of now," I said. I think she sighed; she hadn't exactly liked doing all of the digging, but it had paid off. Now, I had to make a decision. The tax dodging, the skimming of company funds, the shorting of employees' paychecks on marginally valid pretexts was all documented. Indirectly documented in most cases, but documented. A top gun auditor would decipher it and nail the both of them hardcore: prison time without a doubt. So, question, did I want to see my ex-wife behind bars? Did I want to risk alienating my children by so doing? As for Christiansen, I had no problem seeing him dragged off in chains. But my woman, my ex-woman? I wasn't sure.

It was time for the sit down. The tone of that meeting figured to decide me. And there was one more thing I had to decide even before the meeting with Isabelle and good 'ole Roger.

******

I was seated at a table near the front when she walked it. The place, the Highlander Grill, was fairly full.

"Hi, what's happening? You sounded kinda—I don't know—urgent, I guess," said Jennifer.

"Hi back atcha, Jen." I leaned back in my seat, then forward, my elbows on the table, my fingers interlaced.

"Jen, there's something I've been wanting to talk to you about, but the time never seemed right. Or, okay, maybe I was chicken," I said.

"Huh? What are you talking about?" said Jen.

"Jen we've been friends for a long time. We've had an employer-employee relationship even longer. Right?" I said.

"Well, yes of course. We are friends. But, what—what—I mean what are you getting at, Victor. Have I done something wrong?" she said.

"Wrong? Huh? Heavens no!" I said. "Quite to the contrary. Jennifer Curtis, I guess I have to get to the heart of the matter. But—no matter what, I do not want what I am about to say to ruin our relationship. Okay?"

She looked at me like I was from outer space. "Okay," she said. I was having a helluva time getting said what needed to be said. Finally I blurted it out.

"Jennifer Curtis, I want to marry you."

"Huh? Marry? Me? You want to marry me?" she said. She did not look happy.

"Uh—Jen, it's okay. I just well I..."

"Yes," she said finally, and all too quietly for my taste. She moved closer to me, put her arms around me, and kissed me. "Yes, mister Shelby, that would be fine with me." Suddenly her smile was grand-canyon size.

For the next hour plus our faces were never more than a few inches apart. We talked about everything and nothing, and it didn't matter; neither of us were going to remember a bit of it afterwards; or, maybe we'd remember every word of it. The only thing that mattered was the truth that we would always be together; I knew it, and she knew it.