The second wife, got a very large dose of the evidence of her infidelity during our weekly marriage counselor session, when I dropped a ream of paper containing the emails between her and her lovers on the small table beside the therapist, before storming out. When she arrived home later in the day, I was prepared with the audio version, thanks to a micro-recorder I’d placed under her driver’s seat. That clever device saved me a shit ton of alimony. It also guaranteed an equitable custody arrangement, along with opening a dialogue about fairly splitting our accrued debt. No way she wanted her family to hear those recordings, or, God forbid her friends at our church.
Dee was going to have to atone. Of that, there was no doubt whatsoever. She’d broken trust. Even if they weren’t screwing, they were still in a relationship, in my way of thinking anyway. I drove to see a few afternoon clients and sell some shit, but my heart wasn’t really into it today.
The information I’d gathered earlier in the week told me enough about The Duke of Fucking Austin. He’s a department manager at the store, has only been there for about six months, and his schedule is 8-5, while Dee’s is 6-3. She would already be home when I got to have my little talk with numb nuts.
The plan was simple: meet him at his car in the parking lot. That would mean plenty of customers coming and going, so less chance of a physical confrontation. He looked to be in good condition, had about 2″ on me, and a bigger upper body.
I already had put some thought into how this would go down, although you always have to allow for variables. I had been in plenty of fights in my life. Won a good amount of them too. However, living in the Pacific Northwest, you can easily go into a fist fight only to discover you’re suddenly in a gun fight. I mean, it’s an open carry state where I live. We’re also home to the second-largest militia (organized True National Guard militia, not some rag tag group of hillbillies, or meth-cooking skin heads like the news media often portrays) compound in the USA. Further, I was never a Ranger, Seal, or Green Beret. I tried the Navy at 18, but the physical revealed a curvature of my spine that was just beyond acceptable. It did work out well though, as armed with that knowledge, medical braces solved that little issue over the years. I’m straight as an arrow now, thank goodness.
So we were going to talk. It certainly wouldn’t be the last I would see of the creep either. In fact, Detective Colombo would be proud of my impending strategy.
Here I stand, waiting. He isn’t looking up, just walking this way. I have my hunting knife sheathed on my belt, mostly for optics. The alarm chirps as he’s reaching in his pocket, clicking his key fob. Now he’s ten feet away and looks up. Seeing me leaning against the hood of his vehicle, his expression shows a combination of concern, and curiosity. That quickly changes to confidence and a little half smirk. She must have shown him my picture at some point.
“Hey Dick…I mean Duke. Got a minute?”
The smirk is full-blown now. What an arrogant prick he is. “Sure,” he says, “you must be Dee’s cuck…er, husband. What do you want?”
“Well, I was going to try for an adult man-to-man conversation, but I’ll start with this. Next time I hear you call me that, it’s gonna be the last time. Only warning. Now, what the fuck do you want from my wife?” I do my best to keep my expression neutral, not a poker face by any means, just level and in control.
The smirk softens somewhat. His resolve does not. “What do you mean, what do I want? I’m pretty sure Dee already told you that, in fact, I’m positive she did.”
I’d expected the smug bastard to use language affirming his quasi-ownership of Dee and had prepared for that. He will learn quickly that he’s not able to best me in a pissing match. To tell the truth, I am kinda hoping he will do something that allows me to pull the knife. I could screw him up pretty good, in self-defense, with all these shoppers around. Probably keep myself out of prison too. Of course, if he’s packing, that could be another story.
“She did. She’s also brought my trust of her into question, as of late. Now I’m asking you.” I say.
He’s taking his time. For the first time, I doubt my approach. It is not going how I’d imagined it, when I’d played it through in my head earlier. Nevertheless, I stand waiting for his response.
“I would have to back up Dee’s explanation,” he replies briskly. “She’s a wonderful person, really easy to talk to. I’m sure you know. We’ve gotten…closer. Since we started going to lunch. She understands me, as I do her.”
“And…” I leave it hanging.
Duke matter-of-factly lays forth his big reveal. “You already know. I want to take her out. Show her a good time. Something more than lunch, you know.”
I don’t. “Duke, that isn’t going to happen. Not unless Dee wants to be single, and maybe be with you long term. Tell me, what does your wife think of this?”
I am slightly surprised as Duke pulls out his phone and states, “She’s fine with it. Here, take down her contact info and call her if you want. Her name is Izzy, short for Isabelle.” I still believe his wife is in the dark about him.
This guy has balls, I have to say that for him. “Izzy may be ‘fine with it,’ but, as you already know, I’m not.”
The Duke of Fucking Austin seems to consider that remark. “Why not? What’s the harm to you? My wife loves me enough, given her situation, to allow me to get my needs met somewhere else, as long as I always come home to her, and prove my love. Why can’t you do the same? You’re obviously not getting the job done. What’s your problem?”
I’d also considered a direct attack on my manhood. It still wasn’t any easier to take or react to. It took everything in me not to punch this fucker right in his baby face.
“I won’t do the same, because it’s not the same. Not even close. You and your wife have an agreement. Dee and I don’t. You’ve been worming your way into her good graces for who knows how long now. The first I ever heard of you was after the two of you planned a date. That means she, and our marriage, already have a big problem. You used the word ‘cuck’ a bit ago. That tells me a lot about you, and your motives. So, both of you are going to get one ultimatum – one chance to do the right thing. For Dee, it’s actually a second chance. Duke, so we’re clear, the right thing I’m referring to means the right thing in my mind, not yours. Choose fucking wisely. Tell her tomorrow, that the two of you can’t be friends anymore. Test me if you dare, but you’ve been warned.”
I turn on heel and walk away, to the sound of Duke’s high pitched voice trailing after me, “It’s her decision…It’s hers, not yours.”
Round one is in the books. Now it was time to gather more information on him.
A large part of me and who I am wants to dole out the lessons, starting right fucking now. A slick prick like Duke could use my overzealousness to his advantage. Maybe take the beating, file charges, and create sympathy with Dee. I know he will get an ass beating, but it will be on my terms, not his. I may even be away on business when it takes place. The upper-hand was rarely won without having both patience and a plan.