129 comments/ 102554 views/ 21 favorites Zeb and Frances Mercer By: Matt Moreau Frances and Zebulon Mercer, that's us. Married thirteen years, about to be divorced. Frannie is now 42, me 43. We met in high school as seniors when I transferred in to Morningside High. She the prototypical homecoming queen: tall, pretty, popular, rich parents. I the prototypical nerd: short, singularly unlovely, not popular—practically invisible really—and poor. But, I had one redeeming quality: I carried a Stanford Binet intelligence quotient of one-sixty same as my weight if it matters. Frances Parker's daddy, Roger Parker, owned a half dozen car dealerships in the state, and had done very well for himself in the business. His wife, Caroline, had died giving birth to Frances, and her dad Roger had never remarried. I'd learn later that Roger and Caroline Parker had been true soulmates: it was impossible for him to love another. My dad got a job as a janitor at the high school, and thereby the reason why I'd transferred there in my senior year. My mom had died too, a few years before, Cancer, and I missed her terribly. But, dad and I managed. I sometimes helped him out after school if my schedule allowed. He was all for me doing well in school: nothing else mattered. I suppose the good news was that I felt the same way and never let him down. My dad was proud of me, and I was inordinately proud of that great truth. Okay, so you're wondering how a short, ugly guy, with no money, no car, no social standing, nothing really, except that I was well read; could possibly have hooked up with miss all-everything. Simple I was handy and pliable. Boy was I pliable. During my senior year I had had no dates whatsoever. None! I had, however, been invited to a couple of parties, attended both, and achieved whatever the male equivalent of wallflower status is. Hell, I hadn't even gotten drunk. I was a disgrace. And then it was May: prom time. I wasn't going. My dad pressed me to ask a girl and to go, but I'd demurred; I wasn't into the humiliation thing. "Oh, there were a few girls in the same boat as me that I could've asked, and I considered it. But, I couldn't dance, alcohol at that age upset my stomach, and talking and socializing were not part of my skill set; some good news though: I got used to alcohol when I got older—a lot more used to it actually. Oh, but did I mention that I was a straight-A student—yippee-eye-o-kai-yay! As it turned out, May was also finals month. And, as it also turned out, Frances Parker was not a straight-A student. She was in fact a gnat's eyelash from failing both Chemistry, and this was her second go at that one, and Math-II. Guess who she asked to help her through those two horrendous finals. Yeah, well, I wasn't about to turn her down. Just being around her, smelling her, was wonderful. At any rate she did what I told her to do, and she passed, and I got a kiss for my efforts—on the lips—one of the few kisses from a girl that I had ever gotten; I didn't wash my face for a week. Two weeks before the prom, she was waiting for me. "Hi, Zeb, got a minute?" she said. "Frances?" "Yes, Zeb, Frances, me. Got a minute?" she repeated. "Yes. For you, of course," I said. She smiled indulgently. "Zeb, you know my boyfriend, Trey Mitchel, right?" she said. "I know he's the star quarterback and about all everything else," I said "But, know him? No, we travel in different circles, actually." I got a look from her for my remarks. "Well, yes, he is kind of the man about campus, I guess," she said. "Anyway, he was going to take me to the prom, but he can't go; has to see his grandma upstate; I think she may be dying or ill or something; Trey wasn't sure. Anyway, I need a date for the prom. You wanna volunteer to help this girl out?" "Huh?" I said. "You know take me," she said. I stood there staring at her. I just could not seem to process her words. Helping her with a Chem exam was one thing; I was good at Chemistry, but taking her to a formal dance and the inevitable all night parties afterwards just did not process, not for me. "Huh?" Now I was repeating myself. She snapped her fingers. "Look, Zeb, I need a date. I know you don't have one; I asked around. Any of the other guys who might want to take me, and who don't already have dates of their own, are either on Trey's shit list; or they're, quite frankly, afraid of me. You know me. We've worked together on those exams. We're on pretty good terms. Right," she said. "And my dad liked you, trusted you. So whaddya say?" "Absolutely!" I said, all too enthusiastically. "But, I should tell you one thing." "What?" she said. "I'm afraid of you too," I said. She laughed. "Yeah, right. The school egghead is afraid of little 'ole average me," she said. She was getting a pain in her side she was laughing so hard. I didn't know what was so funny, but I began to laugh too. It was cathartic. Any parent knows what the term prom means—expenses, big expenses, and those for both the boy and the girl. I knew my dad would fund my date; hell, I didn't have any money, but I was going to feel mighty guilty asking him. I called Frances two days before the night of the prom just in case, just to confirm; but I only got her dad. He said she was out getting her dress fixed or something like that. So, I left him a message that I would pick her up at seven; he said that he'd deliver the message. We knew each other casually from the times when I had helped Frannie with her exam prep. ****** They were sitting in his dad's Cadillac's back seat. They'd been making out for some little time; The windows were steamed up. "I am so glad you got back in time," she said. "And, your grandma's okay." said Frances. "Yeah, she's got diabetes, Like I said, and it was touch and go for a few days, but she will be okay now if she sticks to her doctor's orders and takes her meds. My aunt Helen is staying with her for the foreseeable future. Anyway, she's okay. "Hey, but I'm glad to be back too. We're going to the prom, right?" he said. "You betcha stud. I was so disappointed when you thought you couldn't make it. I mean I wasn't upset or anything; your gramma is a first priority; but well, anyway, I'm just glad you're back." He reached over to her and began unbuttoning her blouse. She smiled him her encouragement. He peeled the fabric from her shoulders. He hefted one breast then the other. "I've missed these," he said. She giggled. "I missed your touch," she said. She raised her breast toward him. "Suck on this one, okay." "Your wish is my command," he said. He suckled on the fleshy mound for some moments; then, switched to the other. She pushed him away. "My turn," she said, as she unzipped his pants. He raised up to allow her easier access so that she could pull his pants down. She did. Reaching inside his underpants, she wrapped her hand around his seven-inch sex engine. She smiled. "I think junior wants me." "More than you can possibly imagine," he said. Leaning forward, she licked the precum from his cock. She looked up into her boyfriend's eyes. "Warn me when you are about to cum. Okay?" He nodded. She let the tip of his cock slip between her lips. Sucking on the glans for some moments, she gloried in his discomfort as he fought to endure the tickling sensation that her doing that always caused him. Then she let his cock slide deeper into her mouth and throat as she began sucking him in earnest. "It was some four or five minutes before he shuddered and mouthed the warning that he was about to cum in her mouth. She let his dick slip from her mouth and began jerking him off furiously. His spray hit her in the face. She plucked a gob of it from her right eye with her index finger and licked it clean. "God that was wonderful," he said. "Glad you liked it," she said. ****** I arrived six minutes early. No, that's not right I didn't just arrive; I arrived in style: tux, corsage, and limousine; I'd even had my hair styled if you can believe it. The chauffeur opened the door for me and waited while I went up to get my date. Jesus was I nervous—never before and never since anything like it, not even on my wedding day. "Hi Mr. Parker," I said, as he opened the door. He gave me a funny look. "Zeb?" he said. "Yeah, it's me. I look a lot different tonight don't I?' I said, smiling to beat the band. "Well, yes, you do; but what, what are you doing here? He said. I frowned. "To pick up Frannie for the prom. You know, I left you the message Thursday," I said. He actually looked shaken. "Zeb, Frances went to the prom with Trey. I was sure she told you about her change of plans," he said. He looked beyond me to the ride I'd hired. "My God! That girl didn't tell you did she!" I was sick to my stomach. I hadn't originally planned to go, but because of the chance to go out with Frances Parker, my dad had laid out $500 plus for my big night. I think all of the blood in my body rushed to my face at that moment. "Zeb, I'm sorry, boy. If I had known that she hadn't contacted you—I—I'm sorry," he said. "Look, come in, please. You and I need to talk." "No, no, I think I need to go," I said. "I need to go now!" I turned to leave, but two steel hands gripped my shoulders and all but yanked me into the house. "Zeb, sit over there. I can see you're—distraught. I know you had to put out a ton for this special night, and don't worry. I will pay you back every cent. And, I can assure you I will be taking it out of the hide of our little princess," he said. I shook my head. "Mister Parker, I can't take your money. I'll just chalk it up to experience and get on with things," I said. "Oh no you won't," he said. "And you are going to the prom." "But?" I said. "Zeb, I'm a business man, a successful business man. I didn't get that way letting myself walk away from competitors who doublecrossed me. No, I dug in my heels and made them pay. That's what any successful person has to do. Zeb, you are clearly a very smart guy, but naïve as hell. You need to fight for your woman." "Yeah right," I said. Okay, I was a little bitter. "Mr. Parker, I'm five-four and one-sixty. Frannie is five-nine and one-forty. Trey is six-four and two-thirty. Fannie is gorgeous; Trey is arguably the hunk the girls all think he is; lookswise, I'm a turkey. The list, sir, of comparisons is long, and I lose on them all." "Intelligence?" he said. "Well, maybe not on that one. But, who cares about smartsos. Let me answer my own question: nobody!" I said. "Size, numbers, popularity: You ever study history, Zeb?" he said. "Well, yeah, I read a lot," I said. Einstein failed his doctoral exam twice before Niels Bohr convinced him to try one more time. They finally gave it to him, accepted his dissertation, the same one he'd submitted the first two times. Oh, his topic? The Theory of relativity. A couple of other names: Alexander at Gaugamela outnumbered twenty to one; Caesar at Alesia outnumbered ten to one. Oh, and Alexander Pope was four-eleven. All out numbered, all with problems and challenges, all initially labeled as dreamers or worse; and all, found a way to overcome because they were geniuses. You wanna be the one to give geniuses a bad name, Zeb?" "Mister Parker..." "Zeb, you are going to the prom—alone. You will cut in on my daughter and the interloper. You will dance the dance with her, and ask her out for next weekend while you're at it. I know my daughter; she's no genius for damn sure, but she has got a deal of common sense. I'll bet you a bottle of Gentleman Jack—deliverable on your wedding day if I'm wrong—that she accepts the date with you, and more, that you'll have fun on it. Okay?" he said. I was glad I had a driver for the evening. I was sure I wouldn't have been able to navigate the road myself; I was too confused, too upset, nervous. But, her dad's words had rung true. I could either crawl away with my tail between my legs or stand up for myself. I knew I was no great shakes, brains or not. I was sure the man was right about what I had to do, but equally sure he was wrong about his predicted outcome. But, what the hell, things couldn't be much worse for me than they were. Having a limo deliver me was a plus. I didn't have to cross the crowded parking lot on my shaky legs. He dropped me virtually at the door. Inside I got some stares. Well, I wasn't exactly a fixture at formal soirees. I headed for the punch bowl. With any luck somebody would've spiked it. Taking a sip I was disappointed; it was punch. I spotted my quarries across the room. They weren't quite making out, but they were close enough to each other to do so if the fancy struck them. I waited for them to start dancing. It had to be a slow dance so I could talk to her. I got lucky, the next one was, and they got up to dance. I waited a half minute or so. They were melded into each other. For some reason I was filled with the confidence of the just. Being short, I was hidden from their view pretty well. I was able to come up behind him and gently tap his right shoulder. He turned to see me. The two of them stared at me like I was toxic; it bothered me not at all. "I believe this is my dance, Trey," I said with more confidence than I should have been feeling. "What?" he said. "My dance," I said. I took her hand and started to pull her away and out amongst them. She ripped her hand from mine. "What are you doing, Zeb. This dance is Trey's," she said kinda nastily. Her tone stung me, but I recovered. "Really, well, I guess I'll be going then. Oh, and please, next time you ask me to take you somewhere and change your mind, please let me know, okay. I mean if it's not too much trouble," I said. "What are you talk...oh my God! I completely forgot. Zeb..." "Forget it, Frances, believe me you're getoverable. But, you won't be getting to ride to the parties tonight in my limo. You'll have to settle for his sport's car. Have a nice life," I said. I turned and walked away. A number of people watched me as I walked out, and one or two of them snickered at a shrimp like me daring to upset miss perfect. But, a few others gave me a thumbs-up, but none of those were A-listers. ****** "You do not mean that you actually forgot you had a date with the guy for the prom. Tell me you're kidding," said Cora Welcher, the Monday following her social debacle. "Yes. I forgot, okay? And, I feel like shit about it. I mean he was so good to me when I needed him to help me pass those exams; then, I go and fuck him over like that. I was just so caught up with Trey getting back..." "Yeah, well, you'll play hell ever doing anything worse than that to a man, to any man—ever!" said, Cora. "He'll be a while getting over it for damn sure." "Yeah, I know," said Frances. "Jesus, it must of cost him plenty too. I mean to get ready for the prom. You say he even hired a limo?" "That's what he said," said Frances. "I know they're poor. His dad's one of the maintenance guys at the school. I know they can't afford stuff like that," said Cora. "Well, as for that, I'm gonna pay him back. And, I'm going to do it out of my own money. I've got a ton saved for college. A thousand bucks oughta do it," said Frances. "Well, at least he won't be in the hole financially then," said Cora. "His pride will still be in the shitter, along with his feelings, but the money should help a little." "Yeah, well, and I'm thinking of begging him to take me out—my treat—as kind of a makeup thing. Maybe even let him cop a feel or two. Whaddya think?" said Frances. "A date? Hmm, maybe. But as for letting him take liberties, only if he makes a play for you himself. If you offer it to him too blatantly...well, a guy like him, as smart as him...well, it might hurt him more than not giving him anything at all," said Cora. "How do you figure?" said Frances, truly not getting it. "He'll know it'd be mercy sex because he can't get anything on his own. That would kill his very soul. Don't offer it; I'm telling you," said Cora. "Jeez, I can't believe you can't figure out some of this on your own!" "Okay, so I'm not a smart as you. And yes, I see your point. But, if he makes the move on me, then, let him?" said Frances. "Sheesh! Yes, but don't give it up, I mean you know what I mean, the big thing. Copping feel, maybe a little heated kissing; but that's it. Any more than that, and a guy like him will be thinking matrimony. You gotta walk a fine line with him, girl," said Cora. "Okay, and Cora?" "Yes?" "Thanks.". Her friend nodded her support. ****** Did I feel down? No. I mean she'd not only stood me up; she'd clearly even forgotten that she'd asked me to go! So I should have felt low, right? But no, I didn't think so. I'd done nothing wrong, and it was clear, the girl just didn't like me. Nothing to do about that but get on with things, her loss the way I saw it; well, it's what I kept telling myself. The bad news, and it was bad news for me, was the fact that the prom occurred two weeks before school let out, that meant that I'd still be seeing her around along with everyone else who'd witnessed my humiliation. The Wednesday after the prom, she approached me in the cafeteria. "Zeb, may I speak with you for a moment?" she said. I looked her up and down. "No." I walked away with my tray and found a table full of social losers like myself. I saw her out of the corner of my eye debating whether to press the issue. I guess she decided not to. She walked away. Two days later, I got an envelope delivered to me. In it was a check for $1,000. I tore it up in front of the delivery guy who'd wanted me to sign for it. He stared at me like I was crazy. The day after that I got a call. No, not from Frances. It was from her father. He wanted to talk to me. I liked the guy, but opted not to continue with the situation. I just wanted to be left alone. He said he'd tell his daughter to back off. It turned out it was she who had written the check not daddy. I hadn't noticed that at the time, not that it would have made a bit of difference. I guess she was trying to buy a little forgiveness. Oh, I was sure she really was sorry for humiliating me, shining me on. But, I was also sure that the kind of arrogance that would take it for granted that everybody could be bought and that forgiveness and justice had a price tag, was so far beyond being acceptable to me that I considered it to be a crime in itself. I guess her daddy got her to layoff. I didn't hear from her again until graduation day. I was valedictorian. My dad was supremely proud. Hell I was proud of me. A friend of mine, Harry Gooden, said somebody had invited me to a grad party and he'd been tasked to deliver the invitation. I opened the invite. It was from her. A party to be held at her parent's house. I threw the invite in the trash can as I was leaving the hall. My dad had detail that night—read, he had to help clean up after the grad ceremony—so he'd left me some minutes before. I was heading for the bus stop a block away, but I never even got off school property. As I rounded the north side of the gym, four guys, a couple of whom may have actually been homo sapiens surrounded me. Only one of them weighed less than 300 pounds, Trey Mitchel. "Goin' to the party, big guy?" said Trey. I knew what he was talking about, but I had no idea why he was talking to me about it. Frannie was his girl. Why would he want me to be goin' to her party? "No, big guy, I'm not," I said. The four of them were staring at me. "What? You palookas gonna make me," I said. "Yeah, actually, we are. Frances wants you there. She wants you to want to come, you know, willingly; but if not, well then, unwillingly," he said. "You are aware that if you force me to go someplace, that I don't want to go, that that is the very definition of kidnaping," I said. He laughed. Zeb and Frances Mercer "I'll take my chances," he said, laughing. That was the signal for his nine hundred pounds of assistance to assist him in putting me in the black van—Jesus, what a cliché! These guys watched too many movies. At the party I wasn't tied down, nor was I immediately accosted by her highness. I looked to see if her dad was handy. He wasn't. I was trapped, as one might say, in a gilded cage filled with high school A-listers and assorted invited outsiders. The music was loud and not to my baroque tastes. The food was a cholesterol loaded feast, and I toyed with the idea of maybe giving my heart something to complain about besides my dream girl's lack of attention. At any rate I declined to commit any gastronomic crimes and I just lolled around. The looks I got from a number of different guests were uniformly smirks. Evidently everybody knew I'd been shanghaied and probably the reason for it. I was pissed. Somebody handed me an open beer bottle. I dropped it on the floor. It broke. I got looks for that, but nobody said anything. Well they didn't until she tapped me on the shoulder. "Kinda juvenile of you wasn't it," she said, indicating the broken beer bottle and the now spreading mess. "I don't want to be here, and I don't want anything from you. Nothing. Now, can I leave or are you going to sic your SWAT team on me." "Zeb, look, I am so sorry for my thoughtless actions. I have had some sleepless nights because of them. I'd just like a chance to talk to you for a few minutes. And, no, if you really don't want to talk to me, you will not be forced to stay. Oh, and I'm sorry for today's theatrics, but I couldn't think of any other way to get you to sit down with me," she said. "You still can't. Have a nice life," I said, and I started to walk out. I was sure that now she'd leave me alone. She detained me by very gently taking hold of my wrist. "Zeb, please?" "Look, Frances Parker, miss all everything. I know you're Trey's girlfriend. I know you don't like me. And I know, or think I know, that you feel a little bit sorry for fucking me over. But I'll live. Okay?" I said. "Zeb, yes, I'm Trey's girl. But, it is totally untrue that I don't like you. I do like you—as a friend. And, I am more than sorry for what I did to you." "Goodbye, okay?" I said. She dropped her hold on my wrist, and I walked out not even bothering to look back. I walked the six miles home, and when I got there, my dad had a fit. "Son, where have you been? You just graduated, and you disappear? Without so much as a word?" he said. "Sorry, dad, I was shanghaied by some classmates, and I was just now able to get free," I said. Well, it was the truth. The fact that I knew for a fact that he would not believe me was, to me, irrelevant." ****** As valedictorian and having garnered a host of other academic honors in my high school career, I was awarded a full ride to Stanford, with Stanford Law as my ultimate goal. Yes, Law. I came late to the decision to make the legal profession my profession. By the end of my junior year, I was already accepted as one of the future big guns in that major on campus; well one of the potential big guns anyway; I still had my undergrad Philosophy major to complete. Anyway, that was the good news; and it was good news. The bad news, as I saw it, was that both Trey and Frances were also going to be going there. Trey on a football scholarship; and Frances, as I found out later, on a prayer scholarship. Prayer scholarship you ask? Well, she was by no means qualified to be in a competitive school like Stanford, but her daddy's one million dollar donation got her in—provisionally. I presumed he'd be getting a hellacious tax write off for his largesse as well. Donation or not, Frances still had to take—and pray—that she pass all of her required classes: she was an Art History major; and again, as I found out later, she was assigned, up front, to mandatory tutoring in some of the harder Gen-Ed classes. Well, life is hard and then we die. ****** I did see the dynamic duo on occasion, but Stanford is actually a small city; it was pretty easy to avoid them. Plus, the Law majors didn't mix much with Art History types, and almost never with the jocks. I never really knew how good Trey was in school; he graduated with me, but I had little or no contact with the man, and no desire to investigate his intellectual skill level. At any rate, he sure as hell wasn't in the Law program. A request by my junior advisor in my third year of undergrad put me in a situation that I could not have foreseen nor really done much about. I had a full ride, but I also had a few obligations to keep it. One of them was to tutor the intellectually less fortunate inmates. You had to know this was coming, right? But genius or not, I didn't see it coming until I was face to face with her. "You've got to be kidding," I said. I think my frustration was showing. "Zeb, I didn't know it was you they assigned me to until just now," she said. "Like I'm supposed to believe that," I said. "Well, you're here. So, tell me, Frances Parker, what is it about Linguistics that's a mystery to you?" I said. "Zeb, look, cut the crap, okay. If you can't at least be civil, then I don't want you to tutor me. I'll just tell my advisor that we can't get along and to find me somebody else. "Yes, I was a shit in high school, but you holding a grudge this long has got to be some kind of record. Get over it, Zeb, it really wasn't that big a deal. So I stood you up. So, shoot me in the ass. Enough already!" I looked at her and deflated. "Okay, you're right. Forget I said anything. If you need help, I'll do my job, and I guarantee you'll pass. I'll need your availability schedule, so I can set up the times." I scribbled my email on a post it I pulled from my shirt pocket and handed it to her—well hell, I was still a nerd. "Figure it out, your availability, and email it to me. And send me your cell along with it. I'll get back to you as soon as you do." "Okay. Will do," she said. "And, Zeb, I really am sorry about everything." I nodded and she was gone. And that was the start of it. At some point along the way; she caught Trey with another coed and their planned happily ever after fizzled. I tutored her. She ended up with a 2.9GPA, not too shabby, and became a teacher. Two years into her teaching career, I finished Law school with an LL.D. And, six months after that we were married. Talk about unbelievable turns of events. Oh yeah, and we had dated a bunch before that happy day. But, and you had to know it; I was a virgin on our wedding night. Just didn't want to leave anything out. ****** Yeah, we made up during the tutorial thing, and being the gold plated, pussywhipped, wishful thinker that I was, I let her talk me into falling in love with her. Oh, and she assured me that she loved me to death, and that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with me. Beyond belief? Hell yes, but I had no problem with consciously deluding myself; I wanted her. The wedding was a huge affair. Her dad had spared no expense. My dad beamed. Her relatives, I'm sure, looked at me as some kind of reclamation project—a charity case. And my friends were jealous as hell. And so did my married life, my life with Frances Mercer nee Parker, begin. ****** "Well, we're finally, here," she said. "I almost can't believe it." I looked her way as I started to undress; I stopped. The reception had been big and loud and happy, and for me, a little strange. I thought about that now. "Frances?" I said. "Yes, honey?" said my new wife. She'd also been undressing. "I guess I'm about the luckiest guy on the planet," I said. She gave off a small laugh. "Damn straight," she said. She saw my serious look. "I feel pretty lucky myself, Zeb: pretty damn lucky!" I hurried up my undressing, but, she beat me. I went to her, grabbed her around her waist and pulled her to me as I went to my knees in front of her. I kissed her belly her fur, her thighs. I worked my way down her legs, finally kissing her feet. "I adore you," I said, as I straightened up. She smiled condescendingly at her new husband. She knelt down with me. I took her right there on the floor, not expertly, but very enthusiastically. The bed was three feet away, and I took her on the stupid floor. It was—I don't know—some kind of statement, but damned if I knew what of. Rising from the floor after a brief period of huffing and puffing, we did get on the bed and she went to work on my penis. She turned out to be a regular virtuoso at cocksucking. She had me up again in short order. I took her from behind. There is just something seriously erotic about a woman pushing her hind quarters high in the air to accommodate her conqueror. I pushed into her and she groaned. My wife, unlike me, was no virgin; I knew it, and she knew I knew it, but we never made a big deal out of it. She was mine now, all mine, and that was enough for me. We lay side by side a while later, again huffing and puffing. "Honey?" I said. "Yes?" "Why me. I'm not good looking, not tall. Why me?' I said. "Zeb, you're not going to believe me, but this one time, I'm going to lay it out for you. I'm not very smart, not like you for sure, but I'm not a fool. I know what's in a person's heart; I can sense it. "Zeb, you actually love me. I know you'd give up everything you have to please me, or, to save me. The reality is very few men are like that. There were a hundred guys who would have crawled from here to China to get into my pants, but once the new car smell was gone; they'd be looking for some strange real fast. I didn't want that for me," She said. I had thoughts of Trey cheating on her for the exact reasons she'd just laid out for me. "Yes, you're short. And yes, you aren't real pretty. By the way, you are not as ugly as you always say. You're kind of—what—manly looking." She suddenly morphed to a more playful tone of voice. "But Zeb, I will be buying your clothes from now on and telling you what to wear. You really have no taste when it comes to things like that, Zeb. Sorry, but that's a fact. So get used to the idea, bub, it's how it's going to be. Got it?" she said. "Yeas, I get it. You can dress me any way you want. I will not gainsay you in anything. I only ask that you love me. And, you're right about the other stuff: there is nothing that I wouldn't do for you—nothing!" I said. ****** We got pregnant almost immediately. She'd damn near had to teach me how to stick it in because I sure didn't have any experience at it. Okay, maybe I'm kidding a little about that. But, she did teach me a lot, and especially how to do the things she liked. At any rate we were off and running in the race of life, our lives together. And, however good or not good I was in the sack; I proved more than good at producing superior offspring. The first few years were terrific, no other terms fits. Then, as one might have expected things slowed down, and yes I'm talking about our sex lives slowed down. But, that said, things didn't stop; they just slowed down. But, what I didn't know was that in certain quarters I was considered boring. ****** Right after we'd tied the knot, we moved to Barton Oaks, a small town a hundred miles from where we were both raised. I was twenty-nine and Frannie was twenty-eight. We settled in and set up shop: she as a teacher at the local high school, and me in my own law practice in the center of town. I should note that, before I'd set up shop in Barton Oaks, I'd done a two year at an all but minimum wage stint interning at a mid-sized practice in the city. At any rate, I had the urge to get out and on my own. I was smart enough, and I was willing to pay the price in the long hours and the hard work that I knew it would take to be successful. To be honest, business at first was kinda slow. I found myself mostly doing wills and simple divorces along with the occasional partnership contract and the like. But, then I hit my stride. I hit it because of a lucky meet up with a stranger in a bar. I was seated at the far end of the bar when a stranger walked in; well, he was a stranger to me. I was surprised when he headed straight for me and took the bar stool immediately to my left. "Hi, my name's Mark, Mark Wilson, he said. "Okay," I said. "Zeb Mercer, can I help you with something?" "I expect maybe you can," he said. I looked him askance. "We have a common friend." "We do? And who might you be referring to?" I said. "Harry Gooden. He said you two went to school together," said Mark. I smiled. "Yes, Harry. God I have seen him in an age. How is he?" I said. "Good, he lives up in Fairoaks, as do I," he said. "Got a print shop." "Really. Well, when you see him give him my best," I said. "That I will," said Mark. "But, Mr. Mercer, I'm here for another reason, and Harry was the catalyst for it." "Yes?" "I need a job. I'm good at what I do, and I thought, and Harry thought; well, that you might be a good one to ask," he said. "Look, Mark, I'm a lawyer. I run and small shop with one part time secretary named Lois. I..." "Sir, I wouldn't cost you much...." "Okay, let me ask. What do you do?' I said. "I'm an ex-cop. But, now I'm a PI," he said. That one stopped me. "A PI? A private investigator?" I said. "Yes. I was bumped off the force for drinking on the job. But, I'm okay now. Been dry for a year," he said. I nodded. "I see," I said. "Well, I'd like a little time to think about it. That be okay?" I said. I haven't had a lot of need for a PI so far, but..." "Yes, sir, that would be fine," said Mark. "Let me ask, what did you do, I mean when you were on the force?" I said. "Neighborhood patrol mostly. Me and my pard, well we covered some of the inner city area. You know, the anti-gang thing," he said. "Okay, here's my card. Call me in a couple of days," I said. "Yes, sir, I will do that," he said. And just like that, I had a new resource with which to expand my client base and thereby my income base. To make a long story short, Mark and I grew together, me into the top criminal lawyer in the southern half of the state, him into the Sword of Damocles hanging over the head of anybody with nasty secrets. Over time we developed a very close relationship; we trusted each other absolutely. Somebody with a big ass problem always got the both us; we were a package deal. ****** Things were great for Frannie and me once we got settled in to our lives. She was happy; I was happy, our two kids were happy. Well, we were all happy until the day I found out my wife had a lover. Now, all of us are in danger of becoming really, really unhappy. Marlon Skaggs—you gotta love the name—is tall, dark, and handsome. He's got some money, not sure how much, and—well, and he has my wife's love. Well, maybe not her love, not sure about that either, but her lust at the least. He also has my undying hatred for seducing her, and putting us, the lot of us, in domestic jeopardy. I stood there staring at the two of them fucking up a storm on the couch. He heard me, saw me, and ran from me like I carried the Ebola virus. My wife had the look of an interrupted fuckee; well, she was wasn't she. That is exactly what she was. "Well, you certainly scared the shit out of Marlon," she said, about as casually as she ever said anything. Still naked, she'd reached for the decorative afghan that was spread over the back of the easy chair that she'd been bent over as he screwed her. She covered herself. "What the hell was going on here, Frances Mercer," I said. Yeah, it was a ridiculous question. She laughed. "What was going on? You're kidding, right," she said. "He was screwing me, Zebulon. He was fucking my brains out. I hope I'm not being too vague." I got quiet. What was there to say. Her attitude said it all. She didn't care what I thought. I felt my eyes begin to mist up. "What, you're going to go all silent and cry! What a pussy I'm married to. Calm down Zebulon, you don't need to worry; I'm not going to divorce you. Actually, I'm quite fond of you. Really. I love you if you care to know. I certainly don't love that jackass, Marlon Skaggs. Good in bed, real good, but otherwise....He's a fucking used furniture dealer for godssakes. What's to love? But, he does beat the hell outta you as far as bedroom skills are concerned." It had taken two decades plus, but I finally got around to figuring out what it was that Frances Mercer, nee Parker was into; it was humiliating me. High school, college, now in our family life. The gods hated me; I was sure of it. Fuck! I turned to go. I stopped, turned again, and looked her up and down. "You sure are pretty even with your makeup all messed up; I'm gonna miss you a lot. I'll have the papers filed on Monday. I'll see to it that you get free visitation with the children, but no support. You're on your own there. Don't fight me on it, the divorce I mean. You can't win." I turned once again, and I was gone. ****** In year one of our marriage we'd been blessed with a son, Jan Michael. In year two Valerie came along and we opted to limit ourselves to them. Two were enough. Oh, and I should mention, that at our wedding, Mr. Parker did indeed present me with a bottle of Gentleman Jack; that for guessing wrong about how Frances would react to my breaking in on her and Trey Mitchel at the prom. Frannie's hair was long now, her stature at five-nine was intimidating to some; she was truly beautiful. Me? At five-four any number of people questioned as to how I could ever have landed such a beauty. Hell, I'd asked myself that question a whole bunch of times; I was just glad she'd opted for me instead of her then boyfriend, Trey Mitchell. Well, I had been glad. Our children now thirteen and twelve, were beautiful too and were our respective pride and joys. Socially, we were active. The draw was always Frannie; she was the toast of whatever we did and wherever we did it. I'd had no clue that our marriage was in trouble. Oh, we'd had some disagreements of late. Most recently at a Christmas party for the faculty at her school. It had started out okay. We'd danced a couple of times, had our first drink; and then she was off socializing with everybody but me. It was a little disconcerting, and, irritating. I didn't know her friends on the faculty that well, so I was kinda just left to hang out by myself. I'd tried a couple of times to get her to sit with me between dances, but she'd just ignored me and let man after man sweep her out onto the floor. It was a good two hours before she even came back to see if I wanted to have a dance with her; I think she was feeling a little guilty—very little. By then, however, I was suitably miffed, and embarrassed, and kinda sulking, and I told her no. She smiled. "Okay, you had your chance," she said. I left. The aftermath at home—don't know who delivered her—was pretty animated. She was mad. I just shrugged. "You abandoned me at your party, so I abandoned you. You've got no gripe," I said. "We'll see about that," she said. But, in point of fact, in the A.M. the next day she'd mellowed, or seemed to have; and things got back to normal. But, back to the bad day at Black Rock—to borrow an old phrase. As I'd driven home that day, the day of reckoning, I'd made a promise to myself to spend less time chasing the big bucks and to concentrate on revitalizing our home lives. I was no fool. I knew that it was going to be an uphill battle to get her to change her attitude; but I was committed to the effort. The strange car in the driveway hadn't been a strange car. It'd been that of her fellow teacher Marlon Skaggs; I'd seen it often enough. He'd even been to a barbecue or two at our place. One can imagine my surprise as to what degree he'd made himself to home—in my home, and, in my wife. Now, as I drove to the town's only inn, The Marquee, I wondered how long and how often she'd been hanging horns on me. The love of my life had made me an unwilling cuckold, and in so doing had killed my love for her. I knew I was going to be sad later, but at the moment, as I pulled into the inn's parking lot; I was just flat angry, very angry. Zeb and Frances Mercer ****** My wife, as described, was no military genius, but she didn't need to be to find me. As explained, our little town only had only one inn; she figured I might be there. I had no relatives but my dad, and he lived a hundred miles away; and, I had no desire to impose on friends; hence, I would be staying at the Marquee, and she knew it. It was Saturday morning, and I was in the afterglow of a really serious drunken stupor courtesy of the Marquee's lounge. I hadn't reached the point of the dry heaves; I'd stopped short of that; but I did have a really sensational headache, and my eyes throbbed. The rapping on my door was a major interruption in my growing sense of self-pity. I got the door. "Frances! What are you doing here. And, you brought the kids with you!" I said, looking past her to Jan Michael and Valerie. "Yes, they noticed you weren't home when they got up this morning. They figured the problem out: I think they heard us last night. I told them I was going to look for you. They decided that they wanted to come. Well, they are involved in all of this," she said. "Hi dad," said Jan Michael. "Hi daddy," said Valerie. "Hi kids," I said. I knew I must've looked terrible; the looks they gave me were evidence of that. "You gonna come home daddy? We want you to. Momma too," said Valerie. My wife looked at me smirking. I just knew she'd planned this—this assault on my conscience. It was a dirty trick, but one she was confident would break me down and rein me in. "Yes, Zeb, you need to come home. You need to clean up, and then we can sit down and talk about this—problem—we seem to have," she said. "Problem? Problem we seem to have! You're kidding right? Frances Mercer, your capacity for understatement defies belief," I said. "Kids, go wait for your mom in the car. She and I need to have a word together. Okay?" I said. "Dad, you really need to come home," said my thirteen year old. I looked him in the eye and nodded. "We'll see," I said. He smiled. The two of us watched the two of them head back to the car. "So what do you want, Frances? I mean what do you really want?" We were still standing in the doorway. "You pretty much destroyed me yesterday with your remarks. You figure I should be okay with that?" I said. She sighed. "No, not okay, but forgiving and forgetting," she said. "I apologize for the things I said to you. They were not only uncalled for they were untrue." "What you said to me? What about what you and dickhead did to me?" I said. Now, she looked away. "Yes, that too. You weren't supposed to be home that early. You never should have seen that. But, that said, it doesn't have to be the end of us. It really was no big deal. So he banged me. So what. It was a mistake, and I made it. He and I made it. It won't happen again; I promise you," she said. "You promise me?" I said. "Yes. I don't even really like the guy. He just came by to deliver a DVD of my students semester SAT-10 scores, and..." "You don't like him? And what if you did like him? What would you have been doing then? I mean if you don't mind my asking," I said. "Look, Zeb, sex is just a means of recreation. You wanna play a little on the side, be my guest. So long, that is, that you don't do it in our bed. For the record Marlon wanted to do it there, and I put the boff on that. That's a place for you and me only," she said. "Well, hell, I'm glad you have some standards," I said. "You say it'll never happen again. Is that what you said?" "Yes. I promise. You will never catch me doing that shit again," she said. Now, I'm a lawyer. My job is to be able to determine when someone is trying to put something over on me. And my everlovin' wife just tried to do that very thing. I smiled. "But, you do intend to keep on fucking him, right?" I said. She looked me in the eye. I could see her frustration. "What did I just say, Zebulon?" she said, trying to regain the initiative. "You said that I wouldn't be catching you at it, not that you wouldn't be doing it," I said. "There's a big difference." "Look, come home and we'll talk. I'm sorry for everything. Okay? But, we need to talk." I was actually amused. She apparently thought that I was the village idiot. I mean, and that with our history. She had to know better. "Okay, I'll come home. We'll talk. But, I'm not giving up my room here until I'm satisfied that some things are going to change. Are you clear on that?" I said. "Yes. Now let's go," she said. I hadn't taken anything with me when I'd left the night before, so I did want to get home and get a shower and some clothes in case I'd be needing them. I mean in the event that I wasn't satisfied with whatever she was going to lay on me. The kids ran to me when I came through the door. "Well, at least some people around here like me," I said to my wife, who was standing behind them. She just shook her head in disapproval. "I'm going to cook us up some eggs and bacon, okay?" she said. I shrugged. "I could eat," I said. My stomach was still roiling from the night before. If I could keep the food down, I was pretty sure I would feel a lot better. She nodded and headed for the kitchen. We ate breakfast as a family. I wondered if this was part of her strategy to get me in a receptive mood for whatever it was that was about to go down. "Dad, are you going to stay home, now?" said Valerie. I just smiled. "We'll see baby," I said. "Yeah, dad, please," said Jan Michael. I helped her clean up the dishes, and then made the coffee. I needed the coffee. Boy did I need that coffee. She was drying her hands on a small kitchen towel. She stopped and stared at me. "I guess we should have our little talk," she said. I sagged back into my seat fingering the handle on my coffee cup. "Yes. I think we should," I said. "Do you have any questions? I mean before we begin?' she said. "A few," I said. She waited. "How many, how long, and why?" I said. She sighed. "Not many. Off and on over the years. As to why—well—it's complicated," she said. I sat there with my mouth wide open and stunned. I'd expected denials. Well, I didn't get them. "Do you realize what you just said to me?" I said. "Yes, the truth," she said. "Well, fucking wonderful," I said. "Like I said, yesterday, I will file on Monday. Thanks for breakfast, missus soon to be ex-missus-Mercer!" "Sit down, hot rod," she said. "I am not nearly done talking. We're not nearly done talking. Okay?" For the life of me, I sat. "Zeb, I love you, and only you. I think I always have. I mean always," she said. "Since that first tutorial back in high school. I don't think I realized it then; that's why I blew it at the prom like I did. Actually, I was suffering from a disease at the time." I looked her askance. "Yes, asshole-itis." I snickered—well, it was funny. "No argument from me," I said, and I didn't smile. She gave me a look. "Yes, well, I guess I still have a bit of that disease still in me, Zeb. And, well, I don't know the cure." "Fran, I have just one more question to ask you. I need a truthful answer. It shouldn't be too hard for you to tell me the truth. I mean you've done such an outstanding job of it so far this morning." "Yes?" "Do you intend to keep on cheating on me, Fran? Do you?"" I said. She looked down. "Cheating on you? No. But, if you ask the question differently. I mean do I still intend to fuck other men occasionally? The answer then is yes," she said. I nodded. "Thanks for the truth. It is appreciated. Like I said earlier, I'll be filing. I don't share my woman, not willingly. A willing cuckold, I ain't gonna be! I hope you can understand what I'm saying." I'd made a decision, actually two counting deciding finally to get the divorce. "That said, I will be staying here. You will have to leave, Fran. I will give you a couple of days to find a place, and I will fund your move in costs. But, then it will be on you," I said. "I'm not going anywhere, Zeb. Unless you figure on manhandling me out of here; it ain't gonna happen, Zeb. But, I will move my stuff into the spare bedroom." I smiled, she had no idea what she was going to be up against. "Well, then, love of my life, we go to war," I said. She looked suddenly tired—no—worried. "Zeb, I'm your wife. Your wife of many years. I don't want to lose you. But—I need more than you can give me in the sack. Think about it, Zeb. Don't do this to us." "I'm not doing anything to us, Frannie, you are. You are doing me real bad, and I cannot let it go. We're finished you and I. I just hope that what you have been getting from your illicit affairs has been worth it because the cost is going to be high—very very high, Fran. And not just for you, but for your lovers too. Depend on it," I said. "Zeb, please, rethink what you're saying. Please!" she said. "No," I said. "Oh, and I hope your lovers, any of them that happen to be married, have understanding wives because they are about to see a perfect storm of real bad shit." That one seemed to shake her. I left her sitting there and went upstairs. She came up and found me on the phone. "...Yeah, Mark...whatever it takes...yeah, yesterday...Thanks," I hung up. "Who was that?" she said. "My business is no longer your business," I said. "Go fuck one of your 'not many' lovers. Maybe they'll talk to you. It won't be long before they're talking about you for damn sure; I fucking guarantee it!" "Zeb, please, you're going to hurt a lot of people if you carry out your threats," she said. "Children as well as wives and husbands." "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn!" She had a sad look on her face as she gathered up some of her things from the bedroom. She paused at the door, holding an armload of clothes. "Zeb, we could still have a wonderful life, grow old together. It's what I want. I love you." The steel in my eyes shut her up. She headed off down the hall. Later, I was sitting out on the patio. The sun was going down. I had two fingers of Gentleman Jack in the old fashioned glass in front of me; yeah, I'd acquired a taste for the Tennessean product. I was swishing it around in the glass. She came out and stood some feet away from me. "Okay, Zeb, you win," she said. "I'll stop. But, please, don't do—well—what you were going to do. Please." I looked over at her. "Zeb, I know it's going to take a little time to get by this. But, please, give me a chance. Please," she said. She'd surprised me. I didn't think she'd cave so easily. The Frances I knew had way too much ego to give in on anything meaningful. But, she had caved, or so it appeared, and now I had to decide if I believed her or not. And even then, believing her, if I could get by what she said about me and to me and what I'd seen, not to mention the arrogance of her ultimatums. "Really?" I said, doubt verily dripping from my tongue. "Please call off your dogs, Zeb. I know that was likely Mark Wilson you were talking to on the phone earlier. Please don't let him ruin anyone's life, Zeb, please." I could see Jan Michael and Valerie watching from the window. I nodded in their direction and smiled. "Okay, Fran. I'll call him off—for now. I'll call off the dogs, as you put it. But, Frances, if you double me up..." I said. "I understand," she said. Did I believe her? Not on your life. But, on the off chance that she might actually finally get it; well, I did love her, and her moving out was going to be as hard on me as it would be on the kids. So, I decided to give it a shot and eat my pride. I figured I'd know one way or the other in short order, because what I would not call off was Mark keeping an eye on her. My house, her car, my car, her purse, everything was going to be wired, and that for some time to come. And Mark would be gathering data on mister Marlon Skaggs and anyone else we could discover had ever slipped his dick into my wife's cunt. Oh, I'd not use any of it unless she doublecrossed me. But, just one mistake, just one, and the wrath of Olympian Zeus would be visited on the sinners involved. ****** A day later, I happened to be carrying some dirty clothes downstairs to the service porch when I heard her on the phone. It had to be Skaggs. "No.No, never again...No, no, no he has resources you have no knowledge of...he would steamroll us...no, not even lunch...find yourself another chickee, I'm a one man woman now; it has to be that way...you too...yes, thanks." You gonna be satisfied with my skills, and, equipment," I said, as I walked in on her. "And yes, I heard the end of your conversation with—who—Marlon?" She nodded. "Yes, I just called him to let him know the situation, that we were done, him and me," she said. My turn to nod. ****** The next two years were good. Mark, my resident PI at the office had found nothing in the months following my confrontation with Frannie, and I had de-wired everything and called off the dogs, as she had phrased it. I was feeling good, and confident. I did continue to have her spot checked, her and Marlon Skaggs too, but so far nothing had come up. The kids were now fourteen and fifteen, me and Frances forty-four and forty-five. She was now department chair for the Arts and Humanities division at her school. My firm was doing well, and some of my clients were very well off and able to afford me. Yes, times were good. But, of late I had been having a small problem with Frannie. The sex since the fire storm had been much increased, and the quality for some time had been exceptional, at least as far as I was concerned. But of late, while the quantity hadn't dipped noticeably, the quality had. She seemed to be going through the motions. We'd screw, I'd head for the bathroom to clean up, and when I returned she'd have rolled over and been fast asleep. It bothered me, so far not enough for me to say anything to her; but it was getting to that point. I didn't want it to seem like I was whining, but I was almost at the point of politely asking her about it—her attitude. I was saved the trouble. Breakfast was good. The kids had gotten off to school. She looked over at me and brought me a cup of java. I smiled. She didn't. "Honey, can we talk?" I nodded. "Honey, I think we need to get a divorce," she said. I had been raising my cup to take my first sip. I stopped, holding the cup maybe halfway to my mouth. I lowered it, setting it gently back on the table. I narrowed my eyes and met her gaze. I think she shivered. "Marlon Skaggs?" I said. She looked down. "Okay, you got it. I will see to it today. You want the house?" "Honey, I don't care about the house or your money..." "Maybe not, but he will. He gettin' a divorce from his wife?" I said. Her head snapped around. "I see. He's not then. The two of you are just going to continue to stab her in the back if not me. That about it? You just want to be free to fuck him." I smiled. She'd really fucked up with her pronouncement. "I was already planning Gotterdammerung for mister Skaggs. Frances figured to be—what—oh yeah, collateral damage. "Honey..." "I'm no longer your honey, Frances. I'm mister Mercer to you, Frances Parker," I said. "You will get shared custody until the kids are eighteen. Any problem with that," I said. "Hon—I mean mister Mercer," she said, "please, can we be friends. I didn't break my promise to you. I didn't go behind your back and fuck him or anybody else. That's why I am coming to you now. You know to be up front with you," she said. I snickered. "You sayin' you haven't done the dirty with him since we made up two years ago. The truth please," I said. "Oh, and no we can't be friends. Not fucking even." "Oh my, Zeb. I just wish—" she said. " Zeb, no I haven't done anything with him, not even a kiss. To be honest, I've wanted to do it with him. But, I haven't. Honestly, I haven't. But, working with him every day—well—it's just been hard. More so lately. I don't know, I guess I'm getting to that point in my life when I need..." "Something more than I've got to give. Is that it, Frances?" I said. She looked down. "I'll tell you this. If what you are saying is true, if you haven't given it up since before, well before—then—I won't destroy you. But, if you are lying to me..." "I'm not, Zeb, I'm not!" I nodded. "We'll see, I said. We'll see, oh yes we'll see. Indeed we will." I wiped my mouth with the napkin in front of me. I don't know why I did it; I hadn't sipped my coffee, and now I didn't even want it. "I'm going to ask you again. Do you want the house? The kids will stay here of course till they go off to college. Whoever has it will be responsible for them and their day to day needs. And the other of us will have free, open, and unrestricted visitation. Any problem with that?" I said. "No. No problem with that," she said. "And yes, I'd like to have the house if that's all right." "Okay, we will break it to the children together tonight. "Oh, and one last thing. Since you will essentially be fornicating with this married, mother-fucking, cheating asshole; he will never be allowed in this house unless he divorces his wife and you marry him. Never! He never comes in here for any reason whatsoever! Your gonna have to fuck him somewhere else. Got it! That's ironclad. You okay with that?" She nodded. "Yes. I understand, and I agree to your condition," she said. I nodded. "Okay. I will be back tonight. Do not say anything to the children until I get home. I would not feel real good about being sandbagged. I hope you get my meaning, miss Parker." "Okay, Zeb, I understand." I stopped and looked at her. "Frances, be aware, be warned, if you try to screw me over, or if he does; well, my wrath will be all but boundless. And, know that in that event that I will pull out all of the stops to make things right: the way I see them as being right. Clear?" I said. "Yes sir," she said. I could see her quiver; my tone was not threatening; it was simply stating a reality that she knew I could deliver on. "I got up and went into the living room where my coat was hanging on the back of a dinette chair. I got it, and looked back toward the kitchen. I could see her still sitting there, brow knitted, eyes watering—well—I might have been wrong about that. I turned and left. ****** She sat across from him. It was their third meet up within the previous two weeks. Denny's had good coffee and they were open twenty-four hours; they seemed to be making a habit of going there to talk. "So, how did he take it?" he said. "Not good. Not good at all. I can only say that it's a damn good thing that we haven't done anything because if we had he'd destroy us. But, I did get him to believe me on that one—thank God." "I just wish we could come to some accommodation with him. Let him know that you don't hate him, that I want to be his friend. We fell in love; it happens. He can rebound from this. He can get another woman. Hell, he's a helluva catch: money, intelligence, social standing, contacts. He's got it all! "Yeah right: and short, and plain looking, and boring. Any gold digger in town would be happy to be his significant other," she said. She wasn't being sarcastic. "Frannie, come on. You know what I mean. He has assets. You and I haven assets. That's the way the world is. And anyway, if you thought so little of him, why did you marry him?" "Marlon, I agree that we need to find a way to ease him into this new—relationship. He and I still have two kids. There will be times when we will be thrown together. As to why I married him, I didn't say he wasn't a great catch; he was and is. I just said he was short, plain, and boring in bed. He's also loving and kind and smart and sensitive to my needs and those of the children. I actually love him more now than I did twenty years ago. But, forget me and him; he and I are quits. Zeb and Frances Mercer "You still going to tell Martha? Divorce her?" she said. "Yes, I just need a little time to cover myself, so that if she goes off on me that I don't end up ruined," he said. "Frannie, maybe if we talked to him together. You know made the case that this isn't the end of the world for him. That you two will still have a relationship. If we don't..." "Yes, I know, and you're right. Otherwise, I can just see him in some cheap hotel room brooding about us; then, going crazy on us. I agree, but what can we do. He was not at all being nice this morning, let alone communicative," said Fran. "You say he'll be coming over tonight to see you and the kids? To talk to them?" He said. "Yes." "I want to be there. In this with you. I want to apologize to him for what I know is a bad deal from his point of view. And, assure him that I really do want to be his friend, try and get along with him. What do you think?" he said. "I don't know. He's pretty steamed," she said. "Yes, yes I get it. But, all I will be doing is apologizing and begging his forgiveness for something that was, arguably, beyond my control—our control," he said. "Okay, I guess it's worth a try. I sure don't have any better ideas," she said. ****** The knot in my stomach clamored for attention, but I just kept driving. Well, I did until the flashing red light of the black and white taxi that was chasing me finally caught my eye. I pulled over. I knew the drill. I kept my hands where the officer could see them—on the wheel. "Counselor," said the genuinely surprised patrolman. I looked up to see Jimmy Conner. "Hi Jimmy," I said. "Sir, Mr. Mercer! you were going almost eighty miles an hour," he said. "Sorry, Jimmy," I said. "I guess, I had my mind somewhere else. No excuse, of course." "Mister Mercer, I'm gonna let this one slide. But, please, slow it down. Okay." He said. "Okay, Jim. I will, I promise. And thanks." Jimmy had been a tough kid some years before, and in and out of trouble. I'd represented him. It had been one of my first cases. He was slated for Juvy if he'd been convicted. I'd won his case and given him a deal of tough love. He'd ended up going to junior college and from there to the police academy. It was one of my success stories: one I took especial pride in. "I did slow down. I ended up in the next township over at The Black Hat Bar and Grill. The Black Hat was attached to a motel of the same name; The Black Hat Inn had clean sheets. I'd be staying there for a few days while I figured things out. It was still just late morning. A helluva lot had happened in the few short hours since I'd gotten up. I avoided getting blind falling down drunk. I had a meeting with my children and the cheater in what I figured would be about eight hours from now. That said, I did have a few. Enough that I had to have a cab come for me at sundown. We pulled up in front of the house that had been my home for more than ten years. Funny, it had gone from home to house in a single day. I paid the cabbie and headed inside. I didn't knock. Entering I froze in my tracks. The kids were being noisy in the den. Seemed like they could be heard in the next township they were so loud, and apparently happy; that would change. But it wasn't the kids that got my attention. Oh no, no indeed. Seated on the couch was my very pretty soon to be ex-wife. Seated, like I said, and making out with my worst enemy. She saw me and paled. "Zeb, you didn't knock," said Frances Parker. She had the decency to at least pretend to look embarrassed. "Knock on my own door?" I said. She flushed at my words. I headed into the den. I gathered the kids around me. "Sit down, babies," I said. I have something to tell you. The two cheaters were a couple of minutes behind me. I guess they'd been getting their stories straight. They interrupted my opening remarks to the children. "Zeb, I'm sorry. Marlon just came over—he wanted to apologize for everything. And well, ask you to..." "Shut the fuck up, Frances. I'll be getting to you in a minute—and him too," I said. "I'm talking to my children. You can do or say what you want to afterwards." The kids looked shocked by my words, my attitude. "Zeb..." "Shut up," I said. "Mister Mercer," said the interloper. I gave him a look that silenced him in a trice. "Children, there is no easy way to say this. So, I'm going to tell it like it is. Your mother doesn't love me anymore. She wants whatever this asshole has in his pants instead! I will be moving out tonight. You can come with me or stay; or, maybe join me tomorrow after you've had a chance to pack. At any rate, you're old enough to make your own decisions on this." "Zebulon Mercer!" screamed my wife. "What are you doing! Saying!" "Whatever I'm doing miss Parker, I'm not making out with a stranger on the couch while my children are just one room away," I said. "You two have no shame!" And, I was screaming. "We were not making out! We were..." "Liar!" I screamed. I pulled my cell. I hit one of the speed dial numbers. "Mark, it's Gotterdammerung!...Yes... and Mark, and I mean now, right now...Yes...that too...pull out all of the stops...Bye" I pocketed the cell. "We had an agreement, miss Parker; he was not to be here as long as he is married to someone else and not married to you. I'm just glad I walked in on you like I did. You'll pay now, Frances. And, so will shithead there." "Zeb! He was here to apologize to you. Try and make things right. Try to be a friend to you. And for your information, I do still love you," she said. "You're a liar and a bad one," I said. "You need to find yourself a lawyer. I'm going after you." "Zeb, the children!" she said, I had almost forgotten them. "Jan Michael, Valerie. I will be back tomorrow. If you want to live with your dad be ready. If you want to stay with her, I'll understand; she is still your mother." "Mister Mercer, please. Let me say something please, please, please," he said. I sneered. As quietly as I could get the word out, I said, "Go." He visibly shivered. Just then the phone rang. Frances picked it up. "Martha! Yes, he's here and so is Zeb...Yes, the both of them." She handed him the phone. He held it to his ear. His face went gray. He looked at me and then at her. "She's divorcing me." He handed her back the phone; she put it in the cradle. "Zeb, what've you done!" she said. "Figure it out. You're college educated. All you had to do was keep your promise to me to not allow shithead there in this house. But, you couldn't even do that." "Daddy! Please don't be so mad," said Val, she was starting to cry. "You're scaring me." I looked over at her. "Honey, you don't need to be scared really. Daddy loves you more than anything. You too Jan Michael." "Zebulon Mercer! You're making a horrendous mistake!" she said. "You mean horrendous as in cheating on your husband and him on his wife. You mean mistakes like those?" I said. "Gee, gotta say that I don't agree. I'm just going to see justice done. It's that simple." "Mr. Mercer. What you've done..." "Fuck off, Marlon baby. You being divorced is just the beginning of your miseries. You can take that to the bank. I'm going to be peein' all over your blue suede shoes," I said. "And, in case I sound a little bitter—and yes, maybe even a little jealous—well chock it up to your bad luck! "Here in the house, Frances! How dared you!" I screamed. The children quailed. "Zeb, I didn't dare. Yes, you caught me kissing him. But it was a kiss of support. For what he, we, were going to be facing when you got home. I knew you were mad. He's here because we wanted to soften the way things seemed to be going between you and me. I do love you still; it's just..." "Yeah, he has a bigger dick or whatever. Right?" I said. "Zebulon!" "Yeah Frances. Trust me, you're going to be remembering my name for damn sure." "Okay, then, Zeb, you leave me no choice. I will be getting a lawyer. You want to play it that way, the hard way. Then, okay. My family has money. I can play your game," she said. Her eyes were hard. "Bring it, baby," I said. "This is going to be fun. Well, it will for one of us," I said. I stormed out. ****** The Black Hat was forty-two miles away. I'd be staying there in the off chance that my enemies might want to harass me if I stayed at the Marquee. Besides the barkeep was a comely dame with the gift of gab. I was gonna wanna be talkin', and she was as likely a candidate as any. Now, all I had to do was remember her name. I made another call and waited, my JD Tennessee sour mash double sat in front of me on the bar. "Mister Mercer? Can I get you anything else?" she said. "Miss—I'm afraid I forgot your name. I had my mind on other things earlier today—and... "Hey aren't you working kind of a long shift?" I said. She smiled. "Yes, I'm doing a double. The boss had to go out of town," she said. "And my name is Zoe, Zoe Campbell." "Well, nice to meet you, Zoe Campbell," I said. Just then, my visitor arrived. "Hi boss," said Mark. "You okay?" "Zoe, a scotch on the rocks for my bud here, if you please." I waited for Zoe to saunter off down the bar to fill the order. "Define 'okay'," I said. Mark Wilson nodded. He'd been where I was. His wife had abandoned him without so much as a by your leave six years before. I could count on his enthusiasm to prosecute my war with the enemy. "You got the stuff?" I said. "Yeah, financials, even an interesting brush with the law. I also have videos of him fucking around on his wife. Oh, but the best part—he's using," he said. "Using?" I said. I shut up as Zoe delivered the scotch to Mark and headed off down the bar once again to allow us our privacy. "Cocaine. Not a lot, and not all the time. But, if we can get him with the stuff in his possession; well, you know the bit," said Mark. I smiled. "Yes, yes, indeed I do," I said. "Zeb, if I'm outta line, say so, and I'll shut up. But—are you sure you want to break up with Frannie. I know you love her more than anything," he said. "No, I don't want to break up with her. But, she doesn't want me around; so it's a moot point," I said. He nodded. "Okay. But..." "But what?" I said. "I have always regretted that I didn't fight harder for my Claire," he said. "I don't wanna see you make the same mistake. Anyway, that's my two cents." "Thanks Mark. I appreciate your concern. I really do. But, this one is beyond the pale. Way beyond the pale," I said. "Okay then. I will be unloading this stuff on him in the A.M. He's in for a truly nasty comeuppance." I smiled the smile of the vengeful. ****** The next few days were uneventful in the main. The children opted to stay at the house for the short term. I understood that. Valerie cried her eyes out when I made it clear that I couldn't, wouldn't, be coming home, couldn't live with them anymore. I also made it clear that they would be welcome at my place whenever they saw fit to come there. Then, on the fourth day a shit storm broke that burned all of the main players. Frances had me served. I'd expected it. Her dad was funding her drive for independence. No problem so far, right. But then the kicker. She had filed to deny me access to my children based on the way I'd behaved that last day. She'd even gotten the children to admit to child services that I had used bad language, threatened the asshole, and even accused my wife of wrongdoing in front of them. Well, she hadn't lied. Skewed the truth a little, but I had done all of those things. In the heat of the moment catching her all lovey-dovey with the asshole had sent me over the top. The good news was that I knew the law better than most. I would eventually get equal custody with my babies; it was just a matter of time. And then there was Marlon. He was being divorced, and to add to that, I had arranged a cherry on top of that particular ice cream sunday, he was served in jail. Tax evasion. His financials; were oh so messed up. The day he was arrested, I got a visit from my soon to be ex. I couldn't understand much of what she was saying; coherent she was not, but loud she was. I called the cops. They came and escorted the thoroughly distraught Frances away. She spent a couple of hours in lockup herself before her dad could get her out. He came to see me. ****** "Well, Zeb, looks like you and my daughter have some problems," he said. He wasn't laughing. I raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Parker, All I wanted was my family. Then, when I lost that, all I wanted was for her not to be flaunting her infidelity in my face or that of the children. I told her not to allow him in the house unless she married him. Then, when I lost there too, I got mad. Now, it is what it is." He nodded. "My daughter is willful, Zeb. You above all should know that. She'll straighten out. I know her. But it'll take some time. You need to cool it and wait her out," he said. "Wait her out?" I said. "Yes, she'll come back to you. She loves you. She just doesn't know how much yet." "Mr. Parker, we've been married fifteen years. How long does it take someone to figure out whether they love you or not?" I said. He smiled the smiled of a man who knows things. "Zeb, this thing with the other guy. It was just a lark. She's been whining to me for a long time; well, about you. I listen and say nothing, except to get with you and solve your—her—problems. She says you ain't much in bed and not much at the breakfast table either. Sorry, but it's what she says." "Well, you certainly know how to build a guy's confidence. But, you're wrong about her loving me. She despises me. Maybe for the reasons you just said. I don't know. But, Mr. Parker, I do know—remember—you were wrong about her being willing to date me when I pinned her at the senior prom those many years ago. Kinda puts the boff on you knowing how she thinks. Do you know I still haven't opened that bottle of JD you gave me on our wedding day? I was saving it for a special occasion." And you know, I just had a thought. "How about this. If she drops butthead, and comes back to me; I mean for real. You and I will pop the cork on that bottle and drink it the hell up. It'd sure as hell be an occasion," I said. He smiled. "You have a deal bub. You do indeed have a deal." ****** "I don't know, Val, I've never seen daddy so angry," said Jan Michael. "Well, with mom making it with that man and dad catching them—I have no words," she said. "Val, I don't want mom and dad to break up. There has to be something that we can do. Something, anything!" he said. "Problem, Jan, is that we have no say in the matter. None. I wish we did too, but..." she said. "I know, I know; but there has to be something. And, dad is so mad he might hurt mom bad if we can't get him to mellow out. I think mom is a fool for messin' with that big guy; that alone is something that mom needs to worry about," he said. "For sure. Mom bringing him here like she did and rubbing dad's nose in it. I mean this new guy being so tall and good looking and our dad—well he's great but not like this new guy. It had to look like she was bragging that she had someone worthy of her on the line. It had to kill dad inside. Know what I mean. Not to mention him catching them kissin' or making out or whatever they were doing—not good!" she said. "For sure. I don't know what she could have been thinking. We have to talk to mom. I don't think she realized just how bad the things she did looked to dad. She couldn't have. Could she? I mean realized how bad the comparison between him and our dad appeared." he said. His sister just shook her head. "Look, our dad is twice what the team of them will ever be in most ways; but, in terms of sex appeal; well, it didn't look good," said Valerie. "She hurt him real bad bringing her boyfriend here. Real bad." "You think they were making out?" he said. "I mean she said he just kinda gave her a support peck, nothing really bad. You know?" he said. "I don't know. I guess I believe her. I mean would she do anything much while we were in the house?" she said. Her brother nodded. "Yeah, I guess that makes sense. But, trying to convince dad of it, well..." She nodded. "I think that that is the first step for us," she said. Whaddya mean?" he said. "To get dad to accept that they weren't about to do the sex thing right there on the couch. It's so illogical that mom has to be telling the truth," she said. "Okay, suppose we succeed. So what? I mean what will be our next step," he said. "To get mom and him to sit down and talk, maybe even with us there. Or not. I'm not sure. But until they do talk, nothing much is going to change," she said. His turn to nod. ****** She was there when they handed him back his personal belongings six days after his arrest. "You okay, Marlon?" she said. "Yeah, I guess. Embarrassed and hungry. And, my bones are chilled. It was freezing in there last night," he said. "Being behind bars ain't no fun. Your husband is really sticking it to me. That he hates me, I am fully cognizant. What's changed now is that I also hate him. "He's cost me my marriage, gotten me indicted on federal tax evasion charges, and probably plans to do more to me before he's done. Yes, I can say with a great deal of confidence and justification that I hate him too," he said. "Oh, and Fran, thanks a million for being here for me. You have no idea. Martha tried like hell to keep me from getting at my money even to so much as to post bail. I think she likes the idea of me being in a cage," he said. "No problem, big guy. I'm here for you. "Marlon, I am going after him too. I've got money that my grandma left me, and my dad will support me through the divorce. He won't help me find out things about Zeb, things about the way he runs his lawyer's office, things I don't know; but I can do that on my own," she said. "I didn't want to go down that road, but he refuses to cut us so much as a smidgen of slack. We have to fight back. I don't know if we can win, but we have to try," she said. "I suppose you're right. But, you know, no one ever comes out on top in these kinds of things. Everybody's going to lose—everybody," he said. She sighed indicating that she knew he was right. ****** I'd taken to hanging out at the Black Hat B&G. They never ran out of Gentleman Jack, and Zoe Campbell was always there to make me feel a tad better than the last time I'd been in—usually the day before. On some level, one had to love it. I'd been seein' my kids pretty regular, a plus for me at a time in my life when things didn't seem to be adding up too well. Consider. I'd been married to the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. We'd had a decade and a half of mostly unmitigated happiness and progress. Economically we, Frances and Me, had been damn near on easy street, this at a time when almost nobody else was. I—we—shoulda been in the black familially. But then, the fifth horseman arrived. Yeah, you know, the five horsemen: war, famine, pestilence, death, and adultery. We, or at least I, were most definitely in the red, familially, and I hated it. I needed a shoulder, and I didn't have one. As I nursed my second of the evening, I noticed Zoe washing glasses down the bar. I'd been in kind of a funk, not a rare happening for sure, but more so of late. At any rate as I kept my eye on my favorite purveyor of amber refreshment, I had a thought. All she could do was tell me to go to hell. And hell, worse had happened to me. I decided to go for it. I raised my paw in the universal request for service. She saw, and came over to me. "So Zoe, when are you going to let me take you to dinner?" I said. "Huh?" she said. "Dinner. You know, where I hold the chair for you as you take your seat. Smile at whatever you decide to say. Laugh at any jokes you see fit to proffer me. You know—a date." I said. Zeb and Frances Mercer "Huh?" she was clearly out of the loop. "Would Friday evening be okay?" I said. "Uh-huh—yeah—sure," she said. "Good. Sevenish? Oh, and I'll need your address and phone," I said. "Okay," she said. She reached under the bar and pulled out her purse. She found a slip of paper in it and a pen and wrote down the necessary info for me. "Thanks. I guarantee we are going to have a good time," I said. "Okay," she said. I think I mentioned earlier on that Zoe had the gift of gab. Well, tonight was a clear exception to the little reality, and, I wasn't sure why. I picked her up on time and in style. For some reason I'd been thinking of my past, my past with Frances Parker. I remembered that she had not ridden in my limo the night of the prom so long ago. Tonight, Zoe would. "Jesus, Zeb, a limo!" she said. "Only the best for my lady," I said. I was feeling good. And, the good news was that Zoe was looking even better than I was feeling. Not in Frances Parker's league, of course, but damn good. And, Zoe had an added plus, or minus is maybe the correct term; she was shorter than me at five-two. We drove to the Hardesty: the best steak house in the southern part of the state. It was a place I brought high tone clients to when the occasion demanded such. We ate and talked. She already knew my situation: that I was getting a divorce. Even some of the details thereof if not exactly everything. "So why, Mr. Mercer, sir?" she said. I leaned back in my seat. "Truth?" I said. She nodded. "You're pretty. I need a woman to talk to—and..." I left the rest unsaid. "I'm not a plaything, Mr. Mercer. I like you. I could maybe get to like you a lot. But if all you are looking for is a roll in the sack; well, you might as well take me home now. I am not—repeat not—that kind of girl," I laughed outright. I shook my head. "No, no, Zoe. Don't get me wrong, sex is not exactly the last thing on my agenda; but, that said, I meant what I said a minute ago. I need a woman to talk to that likes me. And, you do fit the bill. "As for the sex, again, I'd not be kicking you outta bed for damn sure, but tonight that is not happening, nor will it happen with you or any woman until they—she—is ready and wants it too," I said. "Okay?" She smiled. "Okay," she said. The Hardesty had extensive gardens. Word had it that it had once actually been an arboretum. There were walkways, paths, for customers to burn off some of the calories taken in during their meals. Zoe and I decide to stroll down one of them. "A penny for your thoughts," she said. "Not really thinking. Just kinda enjoying the moment," I said. "You okay?" she said. "I mean, I know the wife thing and all?" "As good as can be expected. Thanks for asking. It'll be a while before I get over the betrayal. But, I'm working on it. She—they—will not be profiting from it," I said. I coulda gotten by the adultery, even the divorce, but not with the in-your-face arrogance that they put me through. That I will not forgive, nor forget. Their asses are gonna be mine." She was silent for a long minute. "I see," she said. as we headed back to the restaurant. "Zeb, you didn't ask, but I'm gonna say it anyway. Revenge can hurt the avenger as much as the avengee." I shrugged. I can't let it go. Messin' with each other in the living room while my kids were in the next room, and the both of them knowing I was due to come by. I caught them at it. She actually had the brass cojones to ask me why I hadn't knocked before just walking in on them. I mean in my house, my front room! Oh no, that one I don't let slide," I said. She nodded. "Doesn't sound like either of them is too bright. I mean they had to know they were likely to get caught by somebody if what you say is true," she said. 'Yeah, well you said it; neither of them is a military genius," I said. We arrived back at the restaurant, and we headed out. Pulling up in front of her place, I was suddenly nervous. "Am I worth a second date?" I said. She smiled, leaned in, and kissed me: softly and sweetly. God she tasted good, even better than Frances. "Does that answer your question?" she said. "Sure does, but it raises another one," I said. "What?" she said with a knitted brow. "Would next Friday night be good for you?' I said. She giggled. "You betcha cowboy," she said. ****** Two days after my date with Zoe, I got the call. It was 6:00AM. I almost didn't answer it. But, the caller ID showed it to be my baby, Valerie. I answered it. She announced to me that we had a meeting: she, Jan Michael, and me, at 10:00AM at the Marquee. It was Sunday morning. I really would have preferred it to be later, but my children were calling the shots. ****** "I feel like we should rub his nose in it and do it in the house," she said. "But, with the kids being around..." said Frances. "Yes, I agree. With the children around—well—it would not be good. We don't need any of that for sure," said Marlon. "I like your new digs," she said, changing the subject. "They're not new. I inherited this place from my dad's brother, uncle Sy, when he died: this and a little money. I've just rented it out these many years. Made a bit of money on it too. It made life a little easier on me and Martha over the years," he said. She came to him. He put his arms around her and kissed him gently, almost caressingly. He let his hands rest on her hips. He looked into her eyes. "I have needed this for a long time," he said. "Me too. My hubby didn't have anything to complain about, I mean us, before; but he sure as hell will by the time this day is over," she said. "Let's not talk about him, today, Fran. He's outside of us. Tomorrow we may be at war, but today and tonight is for us. Okay?" "Okay, you're right," she said. He slipped the shoulder straps of her sun dress off and the garment fell to the ground pooling around her ankles. "No bra," he said. "No," she said. He smiled; she smiled. He leaned in to kiss each of her nipples. "You taste real good," he said. She giggled. "That tickles. Get down on your knees," she said. He obeyed her. "Pull them down." He inserted his thumbs inside the waistband of her panties and slowly exposed her mound. It was as bald as the day she was born. He kissed it, then licked the slit, then buried his face in it licking and sucking her for all he was worth. He spun her around, spread her cheeks and licked her there. She shivered. "You are a horny bastard today aren't you, big boy," she said. "Oh yeah, horny and desperate," he said. He pulled her down to the floor with him and gently urged her onto her back. She spread her legs wide for him, and he went after her with his tongue as though it had the secret to immortality. She bucked and squirmed and orgasmed and orgasmed again. He stood. He was undressed and naked in seventeen-point-three seconds. He knelt between her legs. His hands were limp at his sides as he gazed into her eyes. "I love you, Frances Mercer," he said. "Parker," she corrected him. He smiled. "Parker it is," he said. He lowered himself until the glans of his dick brushed against slit of her vagina. She pulled her knees back, her juices already flowing making it easier for him to enter her. He pushed. She grunted. He was inside of her. He began a slow in and out rhythm skewering her, fucking her. She stiffened; he sped up; they both shuddered to a climax but nanoseconds apart. ****** I arrived at the Marquee at ten on the dot. I was apparently the first one there. I got a table and waited for the kids. They were only ten minutes late. "Hi daddy," said Valerie, plopping down on the chair next to mine. "Hi dad," said Jan Michael. "Hi kids. So what's the deal here?' I said. I was sure it had to be about their decision as to where they were going to be staying for the long haul. "Dad, no matter what, while were sitting here we are asking you not to leave. Okay" said Valerie. I looked at my daughter and smiled. "Of course, dear heart. Whatever you want," I said. "Dad, we, Jan Michael and I are kinda sandbagging you this morning. We have been talking and we need to get the air clear between you, mom, and that man she's got sniffing around her. I know you hate him, and, maybe even mom too, but..."started Valerie. "Val I do not hate your mommy. She's hurt me real bad, but I can never hate someone who was my heart and soul for so long and—gave me you guys. Him? That's another matter entirely. He is most definitely persona non grata. And, I do hate him. "We don't like him either," said Jan Michael. Mom brought him to the house the day after you—well—you and them..." "She did what!" I said. "Yes, she wanted us to meet him without the yelling and stuff. Anyway that's what she said. So we met him and didn't like him. Mom did say that it wasn't your fault that she was breaking up with you. She said she blamed herself. But, that it was too late to fix things now. We, Val and me, kinda figured that one out for ourselves. The guy didn't stay long. And, he hasn't been back in the days since," said Valerie. I was clenching and unclenching my fists. I really really hated him now and maybe her too. The kids words had really gotten me going. But, if their words had gotten me going what happened next blew the lid off the pressure cooker. "Good morning, Zeb," said Frances. My head snapped around, and there she was, they were. I think I was actually snorting like a bull in the plaza de toros. "What the hell!" I said. "Dad you promised," reminded Val. I sat, but said nothing, not yet. Everyone was quiet for some moments. "Dad, we all need to talk. I know this is going to be hard for you and mom, but we have to do this. Maybe never again, but today we have to do this," said Jan Michael. I was alternately angry and proud of my babies. They'd put me in a spot that I couldn't see my way clear to get out of, and they'd clearly thought things through to a very deep level. "Did they," I pointed at the two cheaters, "know I was going to be here?" I said. "Was I the only one in the dark?" "We knew," said Frances Parker. I snorted some more; my nose was literally flaring and dripping mucous. "So what's the point of this little sit down?" I said, wiping my nose on my sleeve. "I can tell you, him bein' here is really putting a crimp in my willingness to talk. So somebody better have a damn good reason for it," I said. Marlon to his credit shut up and just shivered. It was almost cathartic watching a guy his size squirm—I said almost. I still wanted to castrate the bastard. "Just to clear the air," Zeb, said Frances. "The kids made their case to me, and I—we—Marlon and I agreed to try. So, here we are." "Dad," said Valerie, "Mom and him were not making out that day. What she said was the truth. We figured it out ourselves after you left. After me and Jan Michael got a chance to talk, and also us talking with mom. We knew what she said was true. "You lost it dad. You were in the wrong. Really bad in the wrong," said Val. I started to stand, slowly stand. Everyone could see I was all but frothing at the mouth. "Dad, sit down," said Jan Michael. My teenaged son and my teenaged daughter literally grabbed each the other one of my arms and forcefully pushed me down in my seat. "We're not nearly done, dad." "Dad, you lost it and you were in the wrong. But, we don't blame you. Mom is an adulteress and her boyfriend there is an adulterer. They are in the wrong there. No question," said Val. "Zeb, if I might. Please?" said Frances, breaking in. I nodded, but my look must have carried some degree of anger, threat, hate; she started to tear up. "We've been here before, haven't we Zeb. Me apologizing for screwing you over. But, this is the last time. I mean I will never screw you over again. I swear it, by God I swear it. "As far as the adultery is concerned, Zeb, you've fucking gotten even with Marlon, and indirectly me too already. Please be satisfied with what you've already done. We are suffering, and you can take that to the bank. "Also, even my dad is on your side in that. He is finally agreeing with me in the divorce thing though. He doesn't trust me not to hurt you again. So you can take comfort in that too, I suppose. "Zeb. Don't get me wrong in what I am about to say, but today is total truth day, and it's going to hurt me more than it does you. I wronged you by marrying you. I should have married Trey, not you. Yes, he cheated on me, but hell, I've done worse to you. Neither he nor I are angels, nor were we then. You and I Zeb, were never a good fit. I am too tall for you, I am too pretty for you, and socially and sexually you were at best a spear carrier. But, intellectually, I was never able to keep up with you. Hell, I can't even spell intellectual. "I tried to be faithful in those early years. And, while the children were young, I did. Then, I slipped. I've been slipping ever since. "Marlon there is as much a victim as you. I came I saw I conquered: I made him fall for me. Zeb—I have fallen in love with him. For the record, there is still a place in my heart for you too, feelings for you. And, I know, even if you deny it, that you still love me too, at least a little. So, I am asking you, please back off. Tell Mark to back off. "Okay, now, I'll shut up," said Frances. "My turn, said Marlon, and I will kick the shit out of anybody that tries to stop me. Got it, big boy," he said, leaning in toward me from across the table. "Got it," I said. I actually wanted to hear him, God knows why. "A victim am I?" he said looking toward my soon to be ex. "Well, if I am, I'm a willing victim. I do love you, Frances. "Zeb, I'm sorry things worked out like they have. I know it's awful losing your wife like you have. But, I have to echo all of the things that she said. She does belong with someone like me, not you. Not because she is out of your league, but because you and her are in totally different ball games. You need someone who is in your league brain power-wise. Not a social butterfly like Frances. Hell the truth is—and I know you'll deny it, Frances, but it is true—that you will probably cheat on me down the line. You are just too beautiful. Men are going to hit on you and you are not strong enough to withstand their assault. The difference between you and me, Zeb, is that I can live with it if she does; and, cheerfully pay her back in kind. And, Frannie, if you do cheat on me, let it be known that I will get my own taste of strange on the side. Depend on it,. That's all I have to say," he said. "Okay, you've all had your say. Now, if there are no objections, it's my turn," I said. I looked around the table. No one seemed ready to open their mouth. "Good." "I'm a simple guy when it comes to family stuff. I just want a woman to love me, to cuddle with me at night, appreciate my sexual skills whatever they are. I want someone who cares about me enough to worry about me and my feelings. Frances, you clearly are not that woman. So yes, we will be divorced soon and without remorse as far as I'm concerned. "Our children have made a good case today. Okay, I will back off and rein in Mark. But a couple of things, dear soon-to-be-ex-wife. "Adultery is a crime as far as I'm concerned, nothing that's been said here today changes that in my view. Your man there cheated on his wife, helped you cheat on me, and he cheated on his income tax. I'm a very experienced lawyer, ladies and gentlemen. I can tell you, that because it's his first offense, and because the amounts involved don't rise to the level of big time felonies, he will likely get four years suspended when it goes to trial, and it will go to trial, depend on it. "Also, Frances, if you have any influence on your new man there, you might want to get him to stop using." I looked him in the eyes. "Yes, Marlon baby, I know all about your cocaine use. I had intended to sandbag you and get you a room of your own at the state's expense, so consider this a break you absolutely don't deserve. I'm giving you a pass because of my children's interest in their mother's welfare and for no other reason. And trust me, you two; mess with me and you will regret it. "And yes, Frances, you are taller than me, and you are prettier than me; so fucking what. You'll age, we all will; but my brain power, as your bud there referred to it, will not age. Kinda of a case of nature evening things out as you might say. She'd flashed her new man a look when I'd exposed his cocaine habit. He looked back at her and mouthed a denial. "What did you say, Marlon?" I said. "Did you just deny that you are using?" "Yes, I deny it. Frannie it's not true," he said. I smiled. "God I love it when a witness fucks up on the stand, and this is the same kind of thing. "Tell you what, Marlon. You either tell the truth right now to all here assembled, or I give the green light to Mark. Your choice." He sagged back in his chair. "Okay, okay. But it's not often and I've pretty much quit using, as you so daintily put it," he said. "It is true that you haven't used it a lot, or I would have had you nailed already," I said. "Daddy?" said Valerie. "Yeah, I'm done," I said. The meeting broke up with everyone getting something out of it. On the other hand nobody got everything they wanted. It sort of ended in a kind of armed truce. These days we all get along at a very basic level, but any pretense of friendship or love or good feelings would be way overstating the reality of the situation. I'd headed for Zoe's place right after the big confab. Our second date was still a week away, but I wasn't waiting. It wasn't even noon. It was her day off too. I planned on trying to take advantage of her. My welcome was more than enthusiastic. ****** Epilog: I was sitting in my office reveling in what Zoe and I had planned for the weekend. The coast was a three hour drive and we had gotten our reservations in with the park service for a tent cabin at Refugio. I couldn't help rubbing my palms together, I was so excited. Zoe in a bikini, me in my—well—shorts, me rescuing Zoe from the scary three foot waves—her being properly grateful of course. But it couldn't last. "Mr. Mercer, a client here to see you," said Lois. "Send him in," I said. The door opened and she came in: Frances Skaggs, you had to love the name. I think I sighed, I'm not sure. I motioned with my hand for her to take a seat across from me. "Hello, Zeb, how are you?" she said. "Does it matter, Mrs. Skaggs?" God I loved calling her that. "I hope you're well, Zeb, really," she said. "Well, thank you. So why are you here?" I said. "Just wanted to come by, you know, to say hello," she said. "Okay, hello back atcha," I said. She smiled. "I talked with then children last week. They got me to thinking." "Okay?" "You were right. About everything, even Marlon getting the suspended sentence. Oh, and he's off the cocaine thing; he's going to a support group once a week for the next year. I'm making him," she said. "Okay, good for you, and him. Anything else?" "Zeb, I've apologized six ways to Sunday about what I did to you. How I made you feel. The degrading shit I put you through. But, I never felt like I was able to make you believe that I really was—sorry I mean. I need you to believe me, Zeb. As selfish as that sounds, I need you to believe me," she said. I looked at her for a long minute. "Why? Why is that important to you? You're free. You've got your new man. I gave you the house. I know your—man—has money enough for you. Why do you need anything from me?" I said. "Like I said, I talked to the children last week. It, the talk, was kind of heated. They made me see just what a skunk I was. I mean when I called you short, and no good sexually, and all of that. I was a skunk, and I stunk up the place. You were always a better person than I was. Still are." Zeb and Frances Mercer "Look, Frances, I'm gonna make it easy for you. I forgive you. Okay? I know you mean it when you say you now know what you did. I appreciate that, and I appreciate your concern. But, Frances, it's all water under the bridge now. We're apart now. And on some level that's a shame. But, you've got your new man, and well, I've got a new woman," I said. "You have a new woman?" "Yes. Yes, I do, and I think she may be the one. But, the jury's still out on that one. Tune in for scenes from our next episode. "Frances, there are a couple of things I believe in. I believe in love at first sight; call me and Christopher Marlowe dreamers. I believe in telling the truth, even if what I say hurts me. I believe in telling lies if it is for the greater good or can save someone else from being hurt. And Frances, I believe in second chances. "Frances, I'm a lawyer, but as you know my undergrad degree was Philosophy. I can reason pretty damn well. Neither you nor anyone else is going to be able to put something over on me. That said... "I believe you were telling me the truth when you said you dumped me because I was short and worthless in bed." She started to interrupt, but I held up my hands to stop her. "I believe you are here today, because of your conversation with the children. You're here today to lie to me to save me hurt or to help me get over my hurt. And, I do appreciate that. So be at ease. It's okay. My ego is not so delicate, that you telling me I'm no good in bed, is going to have any lasting effect on me. I can deal with it, I mean the hurt. Because, like I said a minute ago. I also believe in second chances. And Frances. That goes for both of us. Be happy," I said. "Zeb—I don't know what to say. I love you my fine man. I know we are going our separate ways now, but I will always be there for you if you ever need anything. And that, damn you, is the very definition of truth!" We talked a bit longer. I was surprised to hear that she was pregnant. Well, lots of women in their mid-years have babies. At any rate, it was time to get on with our lives.