Yes, I Do Mind

I had had enough of the bullshit, and got out of my car. I walked straight to the SUV and saw the man's face go white when I yanked his door open.

"Who the FUCK are you and why are you following me?" I bellowed.

"Uh, I, I, don't know what you're talking about," the smaller man stammered, his eyes wide.

"Bullshit, asshole," I said. "You've been on my ass ever since I left my house. Are you the PI my wife hired to follow me?"

"I... don't know what you're talking about," he said nervously.

"You're a lying sack of shit," I told him. "And right now, I'm to here with lying sacks of shit, so maybe I oughta bust your chops right here. What do you say?"

"Look, I don't know what you're talking about, mister," he said. "I'll leave, just don't hit me, please."

"I don't ever want to see you on my street or anywhere near me again, you got it, asshole?" I said. "Next time I won't be so fucking nice."

"I got it," he said. "I'm sorry." I slammed the door shut and watched as he started his SUV and drove off. After I was convinced he was gone, I went inside and ordered a burger and a beer.

"Woman trouble?" the bartender asked when I placed my order. Was it that obvious, I asked myself.

"Yeah, you could say that," I said.

"You know what they say, can't live with 'em, can't shoot 'em," he said, causing me to chuckle. I finished my burger, which was quite good, and my beer, which hit the spot, and headed home. When I got there, I grabbed another beer out of the fridge, then headed out back to enjoy a cigar and think.

As I enjoyed my cigar a plan began to form in my mind. I pulled out my phone and looked up a few things on Google, which made me smile. I consulted the calendar and picked the date. I would have to make a couple calls to get it all rolling, but I didn't see any reason why it shouldn't come together.

Just then, I got a text message on my phone from Ernesto: "All set. First recap in morning. If possible, please send $250 walking around $$." The message was followed by a PayPal address. I pulled up Paypal and sent the cash and a note: "Thanks. Will call tomorrow. Have an idea." I got a response almost immediately: "Talk to you then!"

I finished my beer and my cigar, and went inside. I trudged up the stairs to what used to be the bedroom I shared with Marcy. Out of curiosity, I went to her nightstand and opened the drawer. There, close to the front of the drawer, were her rings. I looked at the smoke detector, where I knew a camera had been installed, then pulled my ring off and dropped it in the drawer with hers. I looked back at the camera and extended a middle finger. Eat that, bitch, I thought to myself.

I got up the next morning and got ready for work. Before I left, I checked Marcy's email. Sure enough, there was a new message with the subject, "Been made." I opened it up and smiled as I read the note.

"I don't know how, but your husband found the surveillance equipment. Attached are the videos we got last night. He also spotted our investigator. Awaiting instructions," the short message said. I made sure it was marked "unread," then closed out the mail client. I left for work and somehow managed to get through the day.

When I got home, I checked my email and found the attachments Ernesto sent from the previous night's surveillance. I wasn't really impressed by what I saw. Marcy was right, though -- Trey was considerably smaller than me, but he seemed to make up for it with enthusiasm. I listened to their after-sex pillow talk.

"What do you think your husband's doing right now?" Trey asked.

"He's probably banging that little whore from next door," she said. "I'll have video of it tomorrow morning, then I'll send it on to my attorney. Enough about him, let's fuck some more."

"You got it, babe," Trey said. I ended the video, closed the office door, then grabbed my phone and called Ernesto.

"Señor Rick," he said when he answered. "Muchas gracias for the walking around money. It really helped. Did you see what I sent this morning?"

"I did, Ernesto, thanks," I said. "Listen, I have an idea for a plan and I want to run it by you, see what you think."

"Sure," Ernesto said. He listened quietly as I told him what I had in mind.

"Well? Is that something you can help set up?" I asked when I laid it out for him.

"I believe so, Señor Rick," he said. "It would take a bit more walking around money, though. When would you want to do this?"

"In ten days," I said.

"Ten days? It can be done," he told me. "Let me ask a couple people and I'll get back to you. Just one thing."

"What's that?" I asked.

"Why in ten days? Why not sooner?" he asked.

"That'll be our 25^th wedding anniversary," I said. "I want to make sure she never forgets it."

"You are one mean hombre, you know that, Señor Rick?" he asked, laughing.

"I do my best, Ernesto," I said. "Get back to me as soon as you can. Let me know what you need and please try to keep it reasonable."

"I will, Señor Rick," he said. "Talk to you soon." We ended the call and I went back through my contact list. There was one more person I needed to reach out to but I didn't know if she would even be available or willing to help. I found her number -- the one she gave me for her personal cell when we were in Iraq together. I took a deep breath and dialed. To my amazement, she picked up on the second ring.

"Diedre," she said when she answered.

"Diedre, this is Rick Weston," I said.

"Rick! Oh my God, it's been forever," she exclaimed. "How are you doing?"

"Could be better," I told her. "Listen, you got a few minutes?"

"Of course," she said. "I was just getting ready to sit down for dinner."

"I can call back if I'm interrupting something," I said.

"No, you're not interrupting anything," she said. "These days, it's just me and the cat."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I said.

"It's all good," she said. "So, what's up with you?" She listened quietly as I told her a bit more than the Reader's Digest version of my story.

"Oh my God," she said when I finished. "And you have proof of all this?"

"Yes," I said. "Emails, pictures, videos, you name it. She also told me you talked to her, said something about us taking good care of each other. In fact, let me read you what she wrote."

"I'd like to hear that," she said. I pulled out Marcy's letter and read from it.

"The bitch came to visit me, and with a smug look, she told me that she 'took care' of you over there and then walked off before I could ask what she meant. But when you came back, I knew precisely what she meant," I read.

"That lying bitch," Diedre said. "I specifically told her that we were a team, that we looked out for each other, that we had each other's 'six.' She popped off with something like, 'I'll just bet you did,' then slammed the door in my face."

"Look, I shouldn't have done what I did with you, and I'm sorry if I compromised you in any way. That's on me and I'll have to live with that for the rest of my life. That's the only time I ever fooled around on her. But none of that excuses this in my opinion," I said.

"Rick, you have nothing to apologize for," she said. "We were both pretty rattled after that ambush and frankly, I'm not sorry. It's not like we plotted and schemed behind her back. Granted, it was a bit... unprofessional and it would've cost us both if we had been caught. But I don't regret having done it one bit. So, what are you gonna do?" I told her my plan and waited for a response. She responded after a few moments.

"I like it," she said. "I really like it."

"I have a man in Colombia who's handling the one part," I said. "But I don't have the necessary access for the other."

"I think I may be able to help you out there," she said. "When do you want this done?"

"Ten days," I said. "That'll be our 25^th anniversary."

"Oh, you're so evil," she said with a laugh. "Alright, consider it done. It'll be my anniversary present to you." I couldn't help but laugh at that. She spoke again after a few moments. "You know, I've thought a lot about you since Iraq."

"I've thought a lot about you, too," I said.

"We were a great team over there, weren't we?"

"Yes, we were," I answered.

"You know, I haven't connected with anyone like that since then," she said sadly.

"I'm sorry to hear that," I said.

"That's life, I guess," she said.

"Yeah, I guess so," I told her. "What are your plans?"

"I've been thinking a lot about retiring lately," she said. "I'm too old to be in the field so they have me shining a seat with my ass pushing papers."

"Well, if you do retire, I know a company that would hire you in a heartbeat," I said.

"Would I get to work with a certain retired Army Colonel?" she asked.

"I can guarantee that," I said.

"Well, I guess there is something worth living for then," she said. "Rick, do you think that maybe..."

"We could reconnect?" I asked, finishing her sentence. I could remember a time when Marcy and I did that. But that was many years ago.

"Something like that," she said. "Unless, of course, you plan to take Marcy back. You're not going to, are you? Not after this?"

"No, Marcy made her bed, now she gets to lie in it," I said. "And I'll be damned if I'm going to let her ride off into the sunset with her doctor friend."

"Good," she said. "Because I'd really like to finish what we started in Iraq."

"I would like that as well," I said. "But I have a couple things to do first."

"I understand," she said. "Just do me a favor?"

"What's that?" I asked.

"Don't make me wait too long. Please?"

"I won't," I told her. "Just so you know, if this works, it'll take some time for my divorce to go through."

"I understand, Rick. Just know that I'm here for you. If you need someone to talk to, call me, okay?"

"I will," I said.

"It's great hearing your voice again, Rick," she said.

"It's great hearing yours as well," I responded.

"Well, I'd better get going," she said. "My pasta salad is getting soggy."

"I'm getting a bit hungry as well," I said. "I'll be in touch, Diedre, promise."

"You'd better," she said. "Talk to you soon." We ended the call, and I felt better than I had in a long time. I suppose Marcy was right -- Diedre was smitten with me. And to be honest, right now I felt closer to her than I had with Marcy in a very long time. I closed my eyes and recalled the way her mouth felt, the way she tasted, her soft lips...

I was brought back to reality by the sound of knocking. Damn it, I said to myself as I went into the front room. I realized the knocking was at the back door, so I went and opened it to find Leslie with a plate covered with aluminum foil.

She was dressed in the tiniest pair of ripped denim cutoffs I had ever seen in my life. Topping that was a short t-shirt that left her midriff exposed. It was quite obvious she wasn't wearing a bra, and I could clearly see her nipples trying to poke their way through the thin material.

"I thought you might be a bit hungry, so I put together a plate for you," she said. "I hope you like lasagna. Mind if I bring it in?"

"Not at all," I said. "I love lasagna. Just put it on the counter if you would please." She smiled as she put the plate on the counter. Then she turned around and leaned back against the counter, spreading her feet so I could see the tiny strip of material going between her legs. I swore I could actually see her lower lips protruding from either side of what passed for the "crotch" of her cutoffs.

"I hope you like it," she said. "Unless, of course, you see something else you'd like to taste," she added as she worked a finger under her cutoffs. I could definitely see that she was shaved. I have to admit, I was tempted to take her up on her offer. But after what I had learned and after my conversation with Diedre, I decided not to. Besides, I felt like there was a real chance with Diedre and I wasn't about to risk that for a quick roll in the hay with Leslie.

"As tempting as that offer sounds, I'm afraid I'm going to have to take a rain check," I said. Her face changed suddenly and she stood up straight.

"What's the matter?" she asked. "Don't you find me attractive? Marcy gave you a hall pass, after all."

"I find you very attractive," I said. "And I'm sure she'd agree. In fact, she's got a camera right up there," I added, pointing to the smoke detector. "And I'm sure she thinks you're attractive as well. Why don't you give her a wave and tell her hello." Shocked, she turned around and looked at the smoke detector.

"What?" she asked. "Are you sure about that?"

"Oh yes," I said. "She had cameras put into almost every room of the house. And she's got a PI following me. Maybe you as well. Didn't you know?" She shook her head.

"No, I didn't," she said.

"Step into my office for a bit, Leslie," I said. "I have something to show you." She followed me into my home office, where I handed her a printout of the email chain between Marcy and Trey. Her eyes widened as she read it. She handed the printout back when she finished.

"Oh my God," she said. "That bitch! I had no idea, Rick. Honest, I didn't."

"I know," I said. "She used you and played you for a fool right along with me."

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

"I've got something in the works," I said. "And yes, I'll be filing for divorce. And I won't be doing anything with anyone until that divorce is final. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes, I understand, Rick," she said quietly. "Can we still be friends?"

"I don't see why not," I said. "But we can't take it beyond that."

"Okay, Rick," she said. "I'm sorry about everything. I hope you enjoy the lasagna."

"I'm sure I will, Leslie," I said. "Thank you." I escorted her to the back door and watched as she left. I had to admit, she looked good in those shorts, but there was no way I was going to risk everything just to get in her pants. After she left the yard, I went upstairs and changed into my running gear. I figured the lasagna, which was still quite warm, would be good when I got back.

After my run, I took a shower and changed, then went down and gobbled up the lasagna Leslie left earlier. It was chock full of cheese, mushrooms and meat, just the way I like it, and it hit the spot. I washed the plate, grabbed a beer and went into my home office, pausing only long enough to flip a bird at the camera in the front room.

The first thing I did was check Marcy's email. I saw she had responded to the investigator, telling him to back off a bit for now. There were no other emails, either to or from her. I then took a look at her finances. We maintained three checking accounts -- one for each of us and a household account for bills. Most of what we made went into the household account, but we each kept ten percent for ourselves.

We started doing that shortly after we got married. We also agreed to put each other on our personal signature cards in the event of an emergency. So I had no problem getting into her account. I noticed that she had saved up quite a bit over the years, but I also noticed she had paid a hefty retainer to Allison Hargraves, Attorney at Law, and had paid a considerable amount to Smith Investigations. I also noticed a few charges to Victoria's Secret. No doubt for her lover, since I had never seen her wear anything from them.

From there, I did a bit of research on Allison Hargraves. The name was a bit familiar to me, but I couldn't recall from where. A quick Google search revealed that in addition to being a "family law" attorney, she's an author. A few years back, she sparked a bit of controversy with a book she wrote promoting the idea of a female-led marriage. I never read the book, but decided to give it a look.

I also found that she had been interviewed by the New York Times as a result of her book. In the interview, she admitted that while she consults with anyone who calls on her, she only takes on women as clients and generally tries to recruit them into what she called the "hotwife and cuckold" lifestyle. I decided to look into that a bit before scheduling an appointment.

From there, I went to Amazon and ordered the cheapest Kindle version of her book. I downloaded it to my Kindle and went to the back patio with a beer and a cigar. After sorting through the psychobabble and the bullshit, it was quite clear to me that Hargraves was a man-hating bitch who delighted seeing men put in marital conditions that sounded to me like torture and mental cruelty. THIS is who Marcy chose as an attorney, I thought. It clearly spoke volumes to me.

I got a break from Hargraves' bullshit when my phone buzzed. I looked and saw a text from Ernesto, telling me he could set up what I wanted, but it would cost $1,000. He provided a bank account number I could wire the funds to and said he could make all the arrangements while ensuring nothing could be traced back to me. I had a better idea, however.

I went into the office, pulled up Marcy's account and made the transfer to the bank Ernesto specified. She still had plenty of money left, and I doubted she would even bother to look. This way, I thought, if anything was ever traced, it would show the money came from her. I replied to Ernesto, telling him it was done. I finished my cigar, then went inside to catch a bit of television and unwind before going to bed.

The next few days flew by fairly quickly. I followed the same routine -- got up, checked the recap from Ernesto, checked Marcy's email, then went to work. Come home, take a run, shower, eat, check emails, drink a beer, smoke a cigar, then watch some television before going to bed. Lather, rinse, repeat. I no longer had any desire to speak to Marcy, so I didn't care that she never called or sent a text.

I found that I rather enjoyed not seeing or hearing from her since whatever love I once had for her was now basically gone. I only saw Leslie one time after I showed her the email chain I printed out. That was the next day, when I returned the plate. Vince invited me to stay for dinner, but I begged off, saying I had things to get done. He seemed disappointed, but I'm sure he would get over it. Personally, I was glad Leslie stayed away as well. That was one distraction I really didn't need.

The only thing that kept me going were the periodic phone calls with Diedre. I had gotten into the habit of calling her every couple days just to say hello. We talked about a lot of things -- our lives, our hopes and dreams, even about pets. We even talked about my kids. The more I talked with her, the closer I felt to her. Eventually, I found myself thinking about her when I went to bed and realized I was falling for her.

I managed to arrange an appointment to see Allison Hargraves. When I got to her office, her receptionist ushered me in and offered a cup of coffee. Being a military man, I eagerly accepted. I shook Allison's hand and introduced myself. She seemed to be about my age, well-dressed and not in bad shape. I noticed the ring on her finger and wondered what kind of a life her husband led.

"So, I understand you're looking into getting a divorce," she said.

"Yes, I am," I said.

"Your name is Weston, is that right?" she asked.

"Yes, it is," I told her. She frowned as she looked at something on her computer, then looked back at me.

"What's your wife's name, if I may ask," she queried.

"Marcy," I said. "That's short for Marcia."

"Well, I'm sorry, Mr. Weston, but I'm afraid I can't represent you," she said. "It would present a conflict of interest. You see, I'm already representing your wife."

"Yes, I know," I said. "And I also know you only represent women. Sounds a bit sexist, if you ask me." She looked at me, hard.

"If you already know that, why did you ask to see me?" she asked.