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Survivor's Remorse

By: StangStar06



Hi folks, This one is partially true and partially fiction. The guy who wrecked his Mustang and went into a depression about it is absolutely true. I met him at this year's dream cruise. Coming to Mustang Alley and seeing all of the ponies was part of his therapy. I did let him know that I'd be taking a lot of liberties with his story. But there were some things that were too great to leave out. One of these is his real life, uber supportive, uber beautiful wife Saraya. I had to throw her into the mix. The rest of it is pure fiction. I'd also like to thank Barney-R for corralling my grammatical and spelling wildness. Maybe someday, I'll leave it alone when he changes all of my buts to howevers. And by now most of you know that I've never met a comma I didn't like. Enjoy, and drop me a line complaining about it if you don't like it. Readers, start your Engines. SS06

* * * * * *

My name is Vee. Okay, that's not actually my name; it's just what most of my friends call me. My actual name is Irving Raymond Dallbinger. As I was growing up my parents called me Irvy. My friends shortened it to Vee. I liked it. Vee sounds a lot tougher than Irvy. And it's less nerdy than Irv. 

As I sit here my life flashes in front of my eyes. My right foot spikes downwards revving my car's engine. Seven hundred horsepower responds and an absolutely hellish sound erupts from the three inch tips of the Gibson Performance side exhaust system I recently had installed on the car. 

I look to my left and stare into the most beautiful brown eyes on the planet. The woman the eyes are attached to, smiles at me. Why shouldn't she smile? She has nothing to lose. 

On the other hand, this race means everything to me. 

Race. It's a funny word. It's something we're born doing. Five year old kids get together on the playground, look at each other and ask ... "Wanna race?" 

In its most basic form the word refers to a contest in which two or more competitors endeavor to discover which of them is the fastest. We can race on foot. We can race bicycles. We can race cars. Shit, we can race almost any mode of transportation. 

In this case we're racing cars. It's something I used to do regularly. But I haven't raced in a little over two years. That last race cost me almost everything. 

A tapping sound drew my attention. I looked across and saw her smiling at me. Her extremely white teeth contrasted against flawless caramel skin. "This ain't no ten second race," she smirked. "We're doing a lap of the entire park. If losing is too humiliating for you, you can just keep going when the race is over. But I hope you're man enough to at least come and congratulate me." I just nodded my head at her. 

She revved her engine a couple of times and then started flipping switches. I realized then that she was setting her launch controls. Her engine revved up to its launch rpms and she looked over at me. 

"No launch control?" she asked. Her expression, with one eyebrow raised was even sexier. 

"Don't need em," I said. "My car's an automatic." 

Her laughter was musical. 

"I thought that real men drive Manual transmissions," she said. 

"Real men drive whatever's faster and less complicated," I said. "I can't wait to see how manly you are on your back with me between your legs." 

Her eyes seemed to light up when I said that. For the second time since I met her I was confused. It almost seemed as if she was on my side. 

A man wearing a business suit walked out in front of us and between us. He snatched the handkerchief from his pocket and raised it in one hand. "When the handkerchief drops" you guys haul ass," he said. 

Time stood still as his arm slowly rose above his head. He looked at both of us in turn to make sure that we were ready. 

This was so different from my last race. This was semi organized, although still illegal as hell. That last race had been utter chaos. It had been an unplanned thing that just happened. I mean when I left the house that morning, I didn't consciously think, 'Okay, today I think I'll fuck my car up and risk dying. I just wanna ruin my God damned life, and I think today is that day!'

What happened was I was on my way to work and as I was cruising down the freeway, minding my own business, there was this Challenger. And you guys know that all of those guys who drive Challengers have something to prove. And this guy was showing his ass, so I had to edumacate him. 

When I heard his tires chirp, my reflexes kicked in. My foot stabbed the gas pedal and the torque of my acceleration snapped my head back. I love that feeeling. (Yep, I intended to use three E's. Driving that fast is a feeeling.) I caught up to him in less than a second and rocketed by. He tried to keep up, but once I got past a hundred miles an hour, he backed off. Truthfully, I don't think it was any lack of speed in his car. I think he was a bit skeered, as they say in Ohio. 

I took the off ramp and left the freeway, feeling good about once again defending the brand. Another victory for the valiant Mustangs over the tyranny of the Italian owned Chrysler Empire. 

I was driving down Woodward Avenue, headed for my office, when out of the corner of my eye I spotted a biker on a crotch rocket. 'What the fuck,' I thought. It was a no lose situation. He was on a bike. Everyone would expect him to have faster acceleration. But I have those race car driver reflexes. We were stopped at a traffic light. He looked across at me and smiled. He revved his engine and I could tell he thought he would have me for lunch. He revved his engine again, but in mid rev, just as he was backing off, the light changed. 

My foot hit the gas like lightning striking the earth. My pony car's forward leap caught him flat-footed and I was gone. The bike was far lighter, but I was pretty sure he couldn't match my top end speed. The problem was getting there. His acceleration was epic, but I had a big lead. As my speedo circled towards 100 he was gaining ground far faster than we were eating it up. 

Unfortunately, we were running out of real estate. As we hit the end of the block and the next stop light, I still held a small lead. The light was red and I hit the brakes, but just as I hit the brakes and my six piston Brembo brakes began to clamp and slow me down the light changed to green. 

He had nearly stopped, but I still had the momentum going for me. I hit the gas again and leaped forward through the light. A quick glance to the side confused me. He was looking at me and wasn't trying to get ahead of me. 

Again my reflexes kicked in. But no matter how fast I was, it didn't mean shit. Life is full of all kinds of things that only matter in certain situations. They say that before you die your life flashes in front of your eyes. Mine didn't. I had perfectly clear vision and way above normal reaction time. The problem was that there simply wasn't enough time. 

Thought moves at the speed of light. But waiting for physical action and mechanical movement is painfully slower. 

Remember my ridiculous, six piston Brembo brakes I spoke about earlier? Why are they ridiculous? Because my front brakes cost over three thousand dollars. You can buy a used older model Mustang v6 for that. When you throw in another nineteen hundred for my rear brakes you begin to see the issue. No one who isn't totally obsessed with cars would ever pay that. 

But I'm not alone. I've seen the same brakes on several Camaros and a few Challengers. They're standard issue on the higher end Corvettes too. And truthfully, they're usually worth it. My brakes can slow me down from sixty miles an hour to zero in only ninety three feet. 

The problem I had that day was that I was moving a lot faster than sixty and the wall that appeared in front of me was a lot closer than ninety feet. 

I watched with endless and painful slowness as it happened. 

He was bored. He'd been on the job for too many years and had been driving for too many hours straight. He was doing a double shift that morning and had simply become complacent. 

He always drove through the yellow in this spot. He was making the U-turn in front of the old State Fair grounds. It didn't really matter, if he went through the red light. Who the hell would ever hit a bus? This time of the morning there were very few cars on the road. And he had very few passengers. He had also had a few drinks between the end of the midnight shift and the beginning of the morning shift. His reflexes weren't quite as sharp as they should have been. 

I later found out that he never even saw me. His first realization that I was there was my Mustangs thirty four hundred pounds slamming into the side of his bus so hard that it nearly tipped over. 

I can remember it in infinite detail. I remember the hellish shriek of tortured tires. My expensive, super sticky, performance, directional radials crying out in protest. The aforementioned brakes clamping down so the car was simply sliding towards the bus. 

Emotionally, I felt it as my front bumper deformed on contact with the bus. It was funny. The price of a replacement front bumper went through my mind even as that one was ruined. My custom grills were next. I could feel it as the aluminum billet grills bent and snapped. My chin spoiler was ripped from the bumper as the radiator was pushed into and through the serpentine belt. The engine mounts were designed to break loose under extreme pressure. 

It helps to form the crumple zone in the front end. That crumple zone deforms and absorbs most of the force of the impact. My front windshield cracked and shattered, but not a single piece of glass broke free. I was thinking of the Mustang emblem imbedded in that windshield and whether or not the insurance company would spring to replace it, or would they try to give me some regular shitty windshield that just fit. 

I was sure that I would have to pay for the tinting myself. And then the air bag blew. Strangely enough, that was when I got pissed. I knew that the airbag going off meant major repairs. I would be without my car for a month at least. That meant that I would probably miss the Dream Cruise. 

The weird part of it was that I never lost consciousness. I shook my head and opened my seat belt. I had to force the door open. Then I got out and looked at my car. I knew it was going to be expensive. I knew I was going to need an awesome mechanic. 

The light on my side was still green. One of the drivers in the other lanes came over to me. "He ran the red light!" he yelled, pointing at the bus driver. The bus had gone up onto the grass that bordered the road. He got out of the bus looking bewildered. 

The guy on the bike took off then. He wasn't actually involved in the accident. I could see his smirk through his helmet. 

The police were there almost instantly. There is a police station less than a mile away. One of the officers came to me; the other went to the bus driver. My witness quickly spoke up. "The bus ran the red light," he said again. 

An ambulance pulled up. They put me in the back and started checking me over. I told them I was fine, but they insisted in taking me to the hospital anyway. While I was in the back of the ambulance, I called my wife, Wendy. 

She got to the hospital less than twenty minutes after I did. She was frantic. I was fine. She checked me out, looking at every part of my body. It was as if she thought she could see things that the X-Rays and the MRI couldn't. 

She hugged me, and then recoiled as she realized that her hug might have hurt me. She asked me millions of questions and never waited for me to answer. I was numb. Not physically, but emotionally. 

I was given a clean bill of health and told that I would probably become very sore over the next few days. It didn't happen. Basically the fact that I ran and lifted weights, keeping myself in excellent physical condition, allowed me to walk away from the accident without a scratch. Hoo-fuckin' rah!" 

* * * * * *

Wendy

I couldn't believe it was happening. My greatest nightmare was actually happening. I had planned to work on both the flower beds in the front of our yard and my tan. My idea was to get a very early start so I could weed the flower beds before the sun was at its full intensity. There was no sense wasting any sunshine. After all this is Michigan. Summer is only about six weeks long. At least that's the way it seems. 

But before I could even get my tools out, I got a phone call. I figured it was one of my friends so I answered, and less than five minutes later, I was in my Jeep and heading for the hospital. 

Vee was my life. He had to be okay. There were tears streaming down my cheeks as I flew into the hospital's parking lot. I pulled right up in front of the hospital and got out of my car. A guard started yelling at me. 

"It's my husband," I cried. Maybe it was something in my expression ... Maybe it was the fact that I was wearing shorts that a stripper wouldn't wear and my bra-less boobs were fighting for attention under the thin t-shirt I wore, but whatever it was, he softened his stance. 

"Ma'am, I hope your husband is fine," he said. "I really do. But you can't leave your car here. They'll tow it away. "

I went back to the car. The keys were still in it. I turned to look at him. It just seemed like someone was putting obstacles in my way to keep me from getting to Vee. 

"Wow," he said. "You really were in a hurry. Okay, Ma'am. I'll take it from here. Your car will be in Valet parking. The Valet guy will have your keys. And here ..." He reached into to his pocket. "This ticket will make it so you don't have to pay for the Valet service, or for parking. I really hope your husband is okay." I was surprised at his compassion, but I had no time to thank him. So I just nodded and took off for the door to the emergency room.

A nurse told me that I couldn't come in through the door I used. I looked through her and walked up to the desk. I asked for Vee and another nurse, seeing the look on my face looked through the records. "You are?" she asked, before telling me anything. 

"Wendy Dallbinger," I said desperately. "He's my husband ... I mean I'm his wife. Is he okay? What happened to him? Can I see him now? Oh God! ... I left my purse in the car. I don't have our health cards or anything else on me. Can I see him before I try to find the car and get all of that stuff?" My voice was getting louder and more frantic by the second. 

"Please let her come in here, before she passes out," said a voice from just beyond the partition that separated the desk from the triage cubicles. I recognized the voice as Vee's. 

"Vee!" I screamed joyfully. I bolted past the partition to find him sitting up on a small cot-like bed in the third of four cubicles. 

I looked over his face and exposed body areas for cuts or bruises. Then I felt his arms and legs. "Are you okay?" I shrieked. 

"My car is wrecked," he said sullenly. I had no time for that silliness. 

"Fuck that car!" I hissed. "I'm worried about you. We'll get it fixed!" 

"It's really bad," he said. "The whole front end is crushed. I'm not sure there's frame damage, but I think they're gonna have to weld in new engine mounts at least. But this could be a good time to add sub-frame connectors. They'll give me better handing and more frame rigidity. 

"Will you stop talking about that God Damned car and tell me about you, Vee?" I said. He shrugged his shoulders and twisted his head from side to side. 

"I'm fine," he said, matter of factly. "The car protected me."

"As much time and money as you out into that thing, it should have," I said. A nurse came in and offered him pain pills. 

"I'm not in any pain," he told her. 

"The doctor thinks you should take them," she said. "Right now you may still be in shock. Later today or tomorrow, you may begin to feel pain or soreness ... As a delayed reaction from the accident."

"I don't really take pills," said Vee. 

"Well, I'll give you a prescription of ..." she began. 

"He won't take them," I told her. 

"Okay, you're supposed to take it easy for the next seventy two hours," she began. "And if anything changes. If you feel pain or soreness or any type of headache ... Come back in immediately." 

There were several clues that should have told me that things were not well, but I was so glad that Vee wasn't hurt that I managed to miss them all. The first of those clues came that very same day. While on the hospital, Vee had called our insurance company to report the accident. We needed a police report and we also needed to meet the insurance agent to inspect the car. 

Vee asked me to handle it. I thought that he was just tired or beginning to feel the after affects of the accident, but I was wrong. 

I met the insurance agent at the shop they had towed the car to. We looked the car over and he declared the car a total loss. It would cost far more than the car was worth to repair it. I knew that would be tough for Vee to take. Another bitter pill for him to swallow would be the fact that the insurance company wouldn't be basing our settlement on the custom parts that Vee had added to the car. They would only be giving us the base value of his model. I was sure that Vee would shit a brick over that news. It was going to be a big shock to him that his precious car was worth far less to the insurance company than it was to him or any of the guys who'd offered to buy it from him over the years. 

The only shock came when I told him about it, only I was the one who was shocked. 

"Vee, Honey, they totaled your car," I said. 

"I figured as much," he said flatly. 

"The insurance company, because of depreciation, the age of the car, and the number of miles on it, is only giving us twenty grand," I said. I was prepared for anger. I was even prepared for outright shock. 

"Okay," he said with about as much interest as if I'd told him that the pizza guy was late. Over the next few days things returned to normal, or so I thought. There were a few things that were different about Vee, but I chalked them up to the accident. For one thing I had to tell him that he should go out and do his run. 

That was kind of weird because Vee is hyper competitive. Normally he's the one explaining to me that if he doesn't train well, he doesn't do well in the almost endless string of 5K and 10K races he does. He also runs in the marathon that a local newspaper hosts every fall. 

So after I urged him to get back to training, he did go back out and run. But instead of running with his friends, he ran alone. That got my attention, but it took a weird incident for it to come out. 

One of Vee's running buddies and best friend, Al Martin just happened to run into me at the grocery store. 

"Hey Wendy, what happened to your hubby?" he asked. "Or did he just know that it was my year?" 

I had no idea what he was talking about. 

"Yeah it would have been better if he'd been there," he continued. "Since he's won it for the last four years. But I would have won even if he was there. Still it would have been nice to have won by beating him." 

"Beating him at what?" I asked as I sorted through the tomatoes. 

"You know?" he said. "The race in the park we run in. Every year they have that 5K. I won it yesterday." 

"How many years have you run in it?" I asked. 

"For about five years," he said proudly. 

"So last year when he had the flu and ran with a fever and the chills, he beat you Huh?" I asked. 

"Yeah I guess," he said. His tone was a lot less exuberant. 

"And three years ago, when he limped home with the ankle sprain, he still beat you then too right?" I asked. 

"Yeah but I was closing on him and ..." he stopped talking when he saw the dubious expression on my face. 

"Vee ran faster this year in the earlier races this season didn't he?" I asked as if I didn't know. 


Survivor's Remorse



"Well, yeah ... I guess," he said. 

"So what makes you think that you could have won if he'd been there?" I asked. "You should just be glad that you won and shut up. Actually you should start training now," I said. 

"Why," he asked. "The race is over." 

"There are other races this year," I reminded him. "And of course there's this same race next year. I'm sure you've told other people about your victory, right?" 

"A few," he said. "Why?" 

"When I get home and tell him about what you told me, he'll probably be really fired up to embarrass you the next time you guys run against each other. Especially with that crack you made about how you would have won even if he'd been there," I said. "It's going to be really embarrassing for you at this race next year." 

"Oh Wendy! I was just talking shit," he said. "I just wanted to get him fired up enough to come back and run with us. He hasn't been in the park to run for the last couple of weeks. We miss him. I Uhm gotta go!" 

That started me wondering about what was going on. Another thing that had confused me was when the check came from the insurance company. I asked him when he would be going down to the Ford dealership.

"Why?" he asked. 

"Don't you want a new Mustang?" I asked. 

"Not really," he said without a lot of enthusiasm. There was definitely something wrong. 

"Why not, Honey?" I asked. It felt like he'd just told me that he didn't need to breathe anymore. Vee had been Mustang crazy ever since I'd known him. Something was wrong. 

"I've got my Jeep," he said. "You've got yours. We're fine." 

"But ... Huh?" I asked. I had no idea what was going on. 

"I think I've grown out of the whole fast car thing," he said. "I want to concentrate on some other parts of our life, okay?" 

"Sure, Honey," I said. "I was just asking." My mind was working overtime. I was trying to figure out who the hell I was talking to. 

The man in front of me looked like my Husband Vee. But he didn't sound like Vee, or act like him. 

Vee was hyper-active. He was always running or doing some kind of workout on our home gym. And that fucking car. He spent almost as much time working on or polishing or driving that thing as he spent with me. There were times when I was jealous of it. But now he had the chance to buy another one and he just didn't seem to care. 

Then there was another thing. Our sex life had kind of dried up lately. At first I was pretty sure that he was sore from the accident. But after a couple of weeks, it was strange. I was used to having to tell Vee that I needed a night off occasionally. I guess I should have been glad to have the break, but there was something strange going on. 

I've always been a woman who needed a lot of sex and Vee and I seemed to be perfectly matched. But at that point I felt like I was living in the twilight zone. 

* * * * * *

Vee

Six weeks after the accident, everything changed. My boss, Frank, had fallen down a flight of stairs and would be in traction for two to three weeks. He would then be put into a regular cast for another four to six weeks while his broken femur set. Because I was so awesome at my job, he picked me to take over for him. 

It surprised a bunch of people. I mean I'm a great engineer, if I say so myself. But I'm not so sure I'm the management type. In fact for the past few weeks, I hadn't been managing to leave my office. I had completed project after project with barely a word to anyone. 

My boss did have an Assistant, Darwin Charles, who I was sure would do a better job than I could. But he had no technical knowledge at all. He was only a manager. My first assignment was to fly to Chicago to attend a conference of several companies that were clients of ours. My job would be to discuss the progress we'd made on several of our ongoing projects. It was something a management type couldn't handle. 

My boss had been scheduled to go but the fall prevented that. I had to get there as quickly as possible. I had barely enough time to rush home and head to the airport. My flight was scheduled to take off two hours from then. 

I drove home. For the first time since ... For the first time in a few weeks I was excited about something. Actually it had been the first time I felt any sort of emotion. I ran into the house, wondering where the hell, Wendy was. I checked the kitchen and found no sign of her. I decided I'd call her on my way to the airport if she didn't come in while I packed. 

I ran up the stairs to our bedroom. I guess the thick carpet on the stairs softened my footfalls. But then again it could have been the fact that they were really busy concentrating on what they were doing.

My wife Wendy is a blond. Her hair is kept about collar length. She's short and built really well. She has large boobs that I love to suck on. She also has a big round butt that I love to slap while I fuck her doggy style. 

The guy fucking her wasn't currently enjoying that. He had her on her back. He had her legs straddled wide open with her feet pushed back near her head. Wendy is really flexible. 

Her big boobs wobbled forward and back, almost hitting her in the face and then moving forward onto her tummy with each stroke. The unusual thing was that the guy was sawing his dick in and out of her ass. It was a very unusual position for anal. 

As my shock dissipated, my ears began to work again. 

"Come on Rick," she whined. "Hurry up. You've been begging for my ass for the longest time, so go ahead and do it. This is the only time you're getting my ass." 

Rick grunted and wheezed like he was trying to sprint a mile uphill. Sweat beads dripped down his forehead from the exertion. It dropped down on his chest and back. A few stray drops fell onto Wendy. 

"Why not?" he grunted between thrusts. "It's not like no one has been in it before me. And it's so fucking tight. I mean your pussy is good, but I'm loving this ass, baby." 

"Because of a promise I made that I've already broken," she spat. "When I got married, I wasn't a virgin ... Not that anyone is these days. But on our wedding night, I gave Vee my ass and I promised him that no one else would ever have it. So this is a one-time thing." 

"I don't think I'm EVER going to use it again," I said, stepping into the room. "So you may as well let him have it." 

Wendy screamed and tried to push the guy away from her. He was on the edge of the foot of the bed and when she pushed him. His rapidly shrinking dick came out of her ass with a popping sound. Both of them registered expressions of pain at the quick disengagement. He got the worst if it though. He lost his balance and fell backwards off of the bed, hitting his head on the floor painfully. 

As he fell I recognized him. He was Rick Peters. His wife, Janice Peters, was one of Wendy's friends. 

I looked at Wendy and she was too shocked to say or do anything. 

"Are you okay, Rick?" I asked. He looked as if he was dazed by the blow to his head. 

"I ... I ... I think so," he said shakily. Rick was about my size, although thicker and less in shape. 

"Don't try to get up," I said. 

"Really ... I'm okay," he said. 

My fist slammed into his eye, snapping his head back. His arms went out from under him and he fell back to the floor. "I don't give a fuck how you are," l spat. "It's just easier to beat the shot out of you while you're on your back." 

I dropped to my knees straddling him. That way he couldn't even get his arms up. I started pounding him. He moaned in pain and started trying to shake me off, but he had no leverage since his arms were pinned to his sides. 

Within seconds, I had punched him 7 or 8 times and his face was a mass of bruises. Wendy dove at me to knock me off of him. I looked at her with nothing but contempt. 

"Rick you really should have started running with me and my friends," I told him. "But even then you wouldn't have been fast enough to get to Janice before I call her." 

The look on his face morphed then, from pain and fear of the beating I was giving him, to a different kind of fear. 

"You don't have to bring her into this, do you?" he whined. 

"Vee, this was my fault," said Wendy. "We need to talk about this. I'm really sorry, Honey. It's not what you think. It was just ..." 

"Shut the fuck up, Wendy," I yelled at her. My voice was so loud that she winced as if I had hit her. In the eight years that we'd been married I had never yelled at her. I stood up and went to my closet. I pulled out three suits and laid them on the bed. I went out into the hallway and grabbed my suitcase and my carry-on bag as Wendy looked at me in shock. 

"Vee ... Where the hell do you think you're going?" she asked, beginning to cry. "I told you we have to talk about this. You can't leave me over this. I think I may have made a mistake and ..."

"You THINK ...?" I yelled. I suddenly started laughing. "You THINK you've made a mistake?" I just shook my head. 

"Well that's another mistake you made, Wendy," I hissed. "I'm not leaving. You are. I have to go out of town for work. Frank broke his leg and I have to fill in at a conference for him. I'll be gone for a couple of days. By the time I get back, I want you to have every trace of yourself and your shit ... out of my house. I'll start on the divorce when I get back." 

Her eyes opened wider and her mouth dropped open in shock. "Di ... Di ... Di," she said. She couldn't bring herself to say it. 

And as much as I was ranting and yelling and hitting people, it was simply a perceived response. I was just reacting the way I thought I should. Beneath the mask of anger, there was no pain, there was no true rage. I was still ... emotionally numb. 

I guess, on some level, I was angry that Wendy had cheated on me. But I simply didn't feel it. 

Wendy lurched forward trying to throw herself at me. I had no idea whether she was angry and wanted to try to hurt me more than her cheating had, or if she was trying to hug me and beg me not to leave. 

It didn't matter. My response was the same. I waited, remaining still for a fraction of a second. I waited until she had committed herself to her move. As her feet left the ground, diving for me, I took one step backwards. 

Wendy's forward momentum carried her to where I was only instants before and found that space unoccupied. She ended up sprawled on the floor only inches from my feet. 

"Don't get up," I said. "I know the way out." 

Her fall had clearly knocked the wind out of her. If I'd been less emotionally bankrupt, I might have laughed. 

"I'm not kidding, Wendy," I said from the doorway. "I want you gone when I get back. You have two days to pack anything you want to take with you." I paused after picking up my suitcase and garment carrier. 

"Wendy ... I love you. I'm really sorry things didn't work out," I told her as I walked out of the room, down the stairs and out of the house. 

I got into my Jeep and headed for the airport. I had a lot of things on my mind to say the least. Darwin called to confirm my flight information. He emailed me a power point presentation that I would use for my speech at the conference. I could review it on the plane and a few times in my hotel, before I had to do the speech.

But the thing that kept going through my mind more than anything else was my own emotional state. I was normally a pretty warm and caring guy. There was something wrong with me. I needed to figure out what was going on. I would give my actions and motivations over the last few months a lot of thought as soon as I got back. It wouldn't be hard. I'd have a lot more time on my hands and a lot more control over my time without Wendy in my life.

The flight went well. There was no turbulence. It took off on time and landed a few minutes early. The flight wasn't long enough to have a meal, but the snacks they served were great. I went over the presentation several times on my iPad. I even managed to correct a few errors in the information and update some of the figures and statistics that were either outdated or incorrect.

For the rest of the time in the air, I couldn't help thinking about the situation at home. The biggest question I had was why? Why the hell would Wendy do that to us? Everything in our lives was going the way we wanted. We'd been married for 8 years. I'd just turned thirty and Wendy was thirty two. 

We had paid off the last of my college loans last year and my income had reached the point where Wendy no longer had to work. Our house ... Well my house, my grandfather had left it to me, was paid for and we had money in the bank. We weren't rich by any means, but we had just decided that we were financially stable enough to start banging out the kids. What the fuck was she thinking?

And she was so stupid about it. She did it right in our house ... Right in our bed. That had to be the dumbest place possible. And the things she said. She must've clicked off every cliché in the cheater's handbook. "We need to talk. I can explain this." Followed by the absolutely classic, "You don't understand." 

Fuck her. We didn't need to talk. There was nothing she had to say that I was interested in. And how could she possibly explain ruining what I had thought was a perfectly good marriage for what? ... A guy who was married to one of her best friends? 

Did she even realize that there was only one way for it to end? Two long term marriages ended so she could have what ...?

The plane landed and I had to concentrate on what I'd come to Chicago for. At the airport, I had an incident at the car rental agency. I stepped up to the counter and the girl there looked at my order and gave me a set of keys. 

"You have the Ford Mustang, Sir," she said with a big smile and a knowing wink. 

"Do you have any other cars?" I asked. 

"Sure but the Mustang is one of our best cars," she said looking confused. Then she brightened up suddenly. "I see what's going on. You're afraid that either it won't match up to your car. Or that you'll fall in love with it and want to buy it, right?" 

"Uhm, something like that," I said drearily. 

"Your Mustang belt buckle gave it away," she smiled. 

"I'll take anything else you have on the lot," I told her. 

She shrugged her shoulders and gave me the keys to another car. I found it by looking for the slot it was located at in the parking lot. I had no idea what kind of car it was and didn't care.

For the next two days I attended conferences and spoke about my company's projects and interests. My own presentation went extremely well. I got lots of compliments on both my material and my delivery. 

At night there were a couple of parties that I attended simply to make an appearance and attempt to dig up more business. I secured meetings with at least three companies about either increasing their business with us or starting to do business with us. 

There were a couple of times when I was asked to dance or offered other things with women at the conference. I raised my hand as obviously as possible displaying my wedding ring. 

It was great, being seen and appreciated for my skills in a new way. It took my mind completely off of the issues that awaited me back home. I was almost sad when it was time for me to head to the airport for the trip home. 

I turned the car in to the same smiling counter girl or her clone. "How did you find the Honda Accord?" she asked. 

"Is that what it was?" I asked. She nodded. "Well ... I went to slot A-127 like you told me. And there it was," I said. She laughed for a long time. 

"I meant what did you think of it?" she laughed. 

"To be truthful," I said. "I didn't think of it. It never registered on my consciousness. Shit, I don't even remember driving it. Did I actually drive it? I guess I must have. After all I didn't walk back here." 

"You really should have taken the Mustang, Sir," she said as I left the counter. I was really irritated by her comments. She acted as if the type of car I rented for the two days that I was in her city mattered. Maybe there was more to it than that though. Maybe it was the little voice in the back of my head that was frustrating me so much. It was screaming very loudly, but for some reason I couldn't understand what it was saying. 

The flight home was uneventful. With nothing to study or prepare for, my thoughts turned back to my personal issues. I checked my phone and found an insane number of messages and texts from Wendy. 

There were also a few from Rick. I decided to call Rick to see what the hell he wanted. To be honest I was confused. I couldn't imagine what he thought he could gain by talking to me. His best option would have been to remain silent and hidden in the hope that out of sight truly meant out of mind. 

He answered the phone tentatively. 

"What do you want, Rick?" I asked him. 

"I wanna talk about wha' happened," he said. He slurred his words as if he was on drugs or something. "I wanna make a deal," he continued. 

I have to admit I was intrigued. "Okay," I said. "Come on over. I think you remember where I live." 

He must've really wanted to talk because he was there in less than half an hour. 

I almost burst out laughing when I opened the door. He looked like a raccoon. Both of his eyes were blackened. His nose was swollen and he had a lot of bruising all over his face. 

He got angry when he noticed that I was having a hard time controlling my laughter. He stuck his lip out and I noticed that it too, was swollen. There was an angry looking gash on the inner surface where it must've been cut against his teeth when I punched him. 

"So what do you want?" I asked. "I don't have all day and the time I DO have, I don't want to waste on you." 

"Come on Vee. It doesn't have to be like that. It was a mistake. It's not the end of the world. We were friends," he said. 

"Don't fuckin' call me Vee," I hissed. "My name is Irving. My friends call me Vee. You and I were NEVER friends. Our wives were friends. You and I were acquaintances at best. You've been in my home and I've been in yours. I guess that made me think that there was a level of trust between us. I can see now that I was misguided in believing that. You are not the kind of man anyone can trust. The way you stabbed me in the back proves that my trust in you was the mistake here. 

But it's a mistake that won't ever happen again. And you're right about one thing though ... It's not the end of the world; it's just the end of my marriage and probably yours too!" 

"Ve ... Irving!" he said with a look of panic on his face. "Why do we have to take things that far? If you don't want to be with Wendy anymore, I can understand that, but why do we have to involve Janice?" 

"Because she and I are the injured parties here," I said. "And I think she needs to know what kind of scumbags she has as a husband and as a friend. What she does with the information is up to her. Personally I hope she rapes you in your divorce." 

"But we have kids," he whined. 

"You should have thought about that before," I said. 

"But you know my kids. They'll be heartbroken," he said. 

"And whose fault is that?" I asked. "While you're expecting me to think about the pain your kids will go through ... Did you ever give a thought to how much this would hurt ME? And what about my kids?" 

"You guys don't have any kids yet," he said. 

"And now we never will!" I spat. "Now get the fuck out of my house." 

"I didn't want to play this card," he said. "I hoped that you would do the right thing. I hoped that we could just sit down and discuss this, but I guess we can't. So here's how things are going to go. If you just have to. You go ahead and divorce Wendy. It would be a stupid thing to do because she loves you. You heard her ... Even when we were doing it all she thought about was you. I couldn't have her ass because of you. She wouldn't suck my dick because of you. She acted like I was some filthy fuckin' CHUD and she had to keep herself pure for YOU. 




Survivor's Remorse



I did you a fuckin' favor, IRVING. I lied for you. When I went to the hospital, they insisted on getting the cops involved. I told the police that I was mugged. I even pretended that they stole my wallet and my cash. Janice made me call and get new credit cards and get a new driver's license, all of which cost me time out of work and cash out of my pocket. 

So if you mention my name in any connotation ... If you even hint that I knew shit about your divorce, I'll march my ass back down to the police station and tell them what really happened. Capiche?" 

"Wow, Rick," I said. "You're playing hard ball. We've got a few problems now."

"What problems?" he asked. 

"Rick my lawyer already has the papers," I said. "We not only named you in my divorce, but I'm suing you as well."

"For what?" he asked. His voice was so high pitched that it was almost a shriek. 

"Well our state doesn't allow alienation of affection suits," I said. "But it does allow monies for actions leading to the dissolution of a marriage. My lawyer figures I can get about a hundred grand from you. The judge probably wouldn't give me all of it from you ... He'd probably see Wendy as being equally responsible. So I'd get 50K from her and the rest from you. It would be a way to mitigate whatever I had to pay her." 

"Oh fuck," he said. "I don't have that kind of money!"

"Rick, stay here," I said. "I'll run over to my lawyer's office and get him to take your name off of all of the papers. I'll have him draw up papers so you can sign off on them that say that you had nothing to do with any of this, okay?" 

"Yeah, do that," he said. It only proved that he was either really shaken up by the thought of being sued ... Or of his wife finding out what he'd done. Or maybe that he was a complete and utter moron. 

"Trust me," I said. "I will have your name removed from every page in my divorce decree and I will cancel the suit against you. I promise. I'm going right now. Just stay here and watch TV. If you have to leave for any reason, come back here so you can sign the papers. If you don't sign them the changes won't go into the record."

I ran out of the house as if I was really in a hurry. I drove to his house and knocked on the door. I had to play this just right. 

Janice came to the door. She smiled when she saw me and invited me in. "Hi Vee. What's going on?" she asked. "Wait, we've done this before haven't we. You're buying some special present for Wendy and you need some advice, right?" 

"Janice, Honey, I wish that was it," I said sadly. "Maybe you should sit down." We went into her living room. Janice was a short, cute chubby woman who always had a smile for everyone. I hated what I was about to do to her but Rick had pissed me off. 

"Jan, I'm seeing a lawyer tomorrow to divorce Wendy," I said. 

"Shut the front door!" she hissed. "You have got to be kidding me. It's that fucking secretary of yours isn't it? Wendy was so right to be jealous of her." 

"Janice, Wendy is paranoid," I said. "My secretary is 57 years old and has kids my age." 

"Then why are you dumping her? She loves you," she said. 

"Janice, I think I loved her more," I said. "I never cheated on her ... Not once. Not ever!" 

"This makes no sense," she said. 

"Janice ... She cheated on me," I said. Her mouth dropped open and she stared at me. 

"Whoever told you that is lying to you," she said. "Wendy would nev ..." 

"I saw it with my own eyes," I said. 

"But who ..." she began. And then she just looked at me. She was trying to think of something to say but no words formed. 

"Janice she cheated on me with Rick," I said.

"Rick who?" she asked. I waited for her synapses to fire. 

"MY RICK?" she screamed suddenly. I nodded. "That motherfucker! I'll ... I'll ... Wait! How do I know that this isn't some sort of prank? Did Rick put you up to this? Is this a test? Are you wearing a camera?"

"Janice, I beat the shit out of him when I caught him," I said. And suddenly the wheels started turning. I told her the entire thing. I told her how I had come home early and caught them. And I could tell she believed me. 

She started crying and calling both of them all kinds of names. She threatened to castrate him and then thought better of it. "Who's your divorce lawyer?" she asked. "I'm going to nail his ass to the wall. 

She ran up the stairs and started destroying all of his favorite things. She threw all of his sports jerseys in the bathtub and poured a gallon of bleach all over them. She got scissors and started cutting up all of his clothes and cried through all of it. I was in shock. 

I was shocked by the violence of her reaction, how quickly she went about it, and by how surgical it was. She knew exactly what to do to hurt him the most. And then she turned and looked at me. 

"I need your help," she said. 

"Oh No!" I said. "I do not need to get in trouble for destroying private property." 

"That isn't what I had in mind," she said. 

A half hour later Rick came into their house in a panic. Janice had called him and told him there was an emergency. 

As soon as she'd called him she had unbuttoned her blouse. Janice was, as I said cute and chubby. Her breasts were large and firm. Her ass was big and round. The only noticeable flaw in her body was her tummy. After bearing three children it was distended and there was nothing outside of surgery that would ever make it tight and flat again.

She walked slowly over to me and pulled my pants open. The blowjob that Janice gave me would have made a priest hard. She put everything she had into it and she was very good. I pushed her back and returned the favor. Her pussy was very pink. It was shaved bare and really wet. 

Her natural aroma was exotic and smelled like cinnamon. I took my time and made sure she was really ready. 

"I'm not built like Wend ..." she began. I shushed her by putting my lips on hers. For a long time I just kissed her. I kissed her lips, her face, her neck and everything I could reach. She started rubbing herself on me and her hand grabbed my dick. 

The next thing I knew I was in her. It was wonderful. Janice wasn't tight. But she knew how to use her muscles to squeeze and grab my hard on in a way that was much better. The way she moved her hips and rubbed those huge titties on me was magical. 

I found out even as we built towards a climax that she likes to have her neck bitten. When I did that she bucked her pelvis so hard that I almost came out of her. 

"Ohhhh fuck! Keep doing that," she yelled, just as Rick came into the house. 

"Janice, what the fuck are you doing?" he screamed. 

"Getting fucked," she smiled back at him. "Vee, Rick has gotten me pregnant three times, but he's never done my butt. I want you to be the first." 

"Nooo!" he screamed

"No what?" she hissed. "How many times did you fuck my best friend?"

"But, this is different," he said. "He isn't wearing a condom and you know how easily you get pregnant." 

"Yeah, there is that," she said. Even as she said it she pushed her big round ass up in the air. I rubbed my dick in her pussy and covered the tip of it with our combined juices. She pulled her cheeks apart and I licked around her puckered hole. I pushed one finger slowly inside of her virgin ass. With my other hand I started gently rubbing her pussy. 

As I stroked the finger inside her ass faster, she started to push her ass back against the finger. I added another finger and started over. 

"Oh fuck, Vee," she hissed. "Your fingers are stretching my ass. It feels so weird." 

"Janice, don't do this," screamed Rick. 

"Do you want to stay married to me?" she asked.

"Yes," he said thickly. 

"Then sit down, shut up and watch," she said. "I want you to remember every second of it. And we're going to be at it for a while." 

I took my time. I stuck my dick back inside of her steaming pussy, smiling at Rick the whole time. When my dick was so hard that I was sure I would cum soon, I pulled the fingers out and punched the tip of my rock hard dick at her anal vestibule. 

I pushed so hard that I thought my dick would break, but it barely penetrated her anal sphincter. It was so tight that I thought the head of my dick would snap off inside her. 

"Oooooooh," she moaned. I rubbed her clit sending tinkles through her. "Ohhh Veeeeee!" she moaned. "If you keep doing that I'm gonna cum again and we'll have to start all over. I pushed a tiny bit more of my dick inside of her. 

"Ah-ah-ah," she said. She was panting and taking short shallow breaths as I pushed forward. I tried to time each push so that each little push forward happened as she exhaled. 

Finally I was bottomed out in her. I pulled back a tiny bit and pushed forward again. I watched the ripples in her fat ass as I slammed home. "Oooooh!" she moaned. I reached under her and grabbed her big swinging tits. I fingered her nipples and bit her on her neck again. Janice was already bent over but she relaxed and spread her legs further apart allowing me easier access. 

She reached behind herself and grabbed the back of my thigh pulling me even deeper inside of her. I pulled out and pushed back again, still nibbling on her sensitive neck. 

"Oh yeah, Vee," she said. "Fuck my ass!" I heard a sob and I thought that she was being really brave. I thought that she was putting on a show. Pretending to like it, even though it hurt. 

She slammed her ass against me increasing our rhythm, because I had stopped out of fear of hurting her. When I heard the second sob, I realized that it hadn't come from her. Rick was crying as he watched. 

Meanwhile Janice had adjusted to what we were doing and was ready. "Fuck my ass baby," she moaned again. And I did I started out slowly and gradually built up both speed and force until I was just slamming her fat ass. 

She was moaning and meeting me with every stroke. Her ass was so warm and so tight that it felt like I was fucking a volcano. My fingers started thrashing her pussy faster. I flicked her clit, I wanted her to cum with me and I was about to unload in her ass. 

It was so tight and so hot that I knew I couldn't last much longer. I was no stranger to anal sex, Wendy and I did it all the time. But this was different. First because it was a different woman and secondly because Rick was there, helplessly watching. Somehow it made it all better. Not that I enjoyed cheating. But at that moment I hated Rick for what he'd done to me. The bastard had ended my marriage and from the sound of things, this was as far as Janice wanted to take her revenge. Apparently, she just wanted him to watch me fuck her and then she was going to take him back. 

So I put a little bit more effort into it. "That's it baby, tear that ass up," she moaned. "Oh yeah, fuck that ass baby. Make it really good," she said. "This is the only time anything other than toilet paper will ever go up this ass, so make me remember it." 

Rick fell off of the sofa and started crying then. 

"Get up you, pig!" she yelled. "Get up, or I'll make you lick his cum out of my ass." 

Rick got up so fast I thought he was a gymnast. It looked as if he'd done some kind of flip to roll back up onto the couch. 

I laughed so hard that I lost control. Cum shot out of my dick under pressure and the slushy, wet smacking sounds that were very audible. Even when my dick shrank, Janice's asshole wouldn't let go of it. I had to pull it out. 

"Rick, go upstairs and get a wash cloth and the liquid soap," she hissed. 

"Why?" he whined. 

"I want Vee to fuck me one more time," she said. "I want another long, slow, romantic fuck in my pussy, while you go and pick up the kids. Take them to McDonald's to eat. Because I'm probably going to be worn out." 

"So why do you need the soap?" he asked. 

"Because I'm going to probably have to suck his dick again, to get him nice and hard. And then before you leave you're going to kiss me goodbye, the way you always do. Do you really want me to suck his dick, straight from my ass the way the women in your porno movies do?" she asked. he thought about it and ran up the stairs. 

We could tell when he got to the bathroom. I realized why she'd really sent him up the stairs. He screamed and started yelling suddenly. 

"Janice, why'd you have to do that?" he said. "My Calvin Johnson Jersey and my Matt Stafford Jersey will cost a lot of money to replace. But they don't make Ndamukong Suh Jersey for the Lions anymore. To replace that Jersey, I'll have to go to EBay or one of the sports memorabilia shops. It's going to cost a lot of money!"

"I'll bet it's cheaper than a divorce," she said, silencing him instantly. 

She lovingly rubbed my dick and balls with the soap and dried it with the wash cloth. Then she sucked it. She licked it from base to tip, teasing me. She ran her tongue in circles around the head. She licked my balls. She sucked each one inside of her mouth. And then she really went to town. She inhaled my dick. Her head rose and fell faster on every stroke. It felt as if her throat opened and she slowly rubbed her nose against my lower abdomen. Her tongue massaged the vein running along the bottom of my shaft and she rolled her eyes upwards so I could look into them. 

I had never seen anything like it, even in a porno movie. I had never felt anything like it. Rick was a fool. I lost control and came harder than I ever had in my life. My cum shot straight down her throat causing her to spit my dick out to avoid choking. 

I fell off of the couch and lay there on the floor holding onto my overly sensitive dick. My legs thrashed around uncontrollably. I lay there rocking on the floor in the fetal position. 

"Are you okay, Vee?" she asked. 

"I've never felt anything like that in my life," I said. "That was the best thing I have ever experienced. Rick you are a fool for risking this."

"I never thought I was," he said. "It was a mistake." 

"Where the hell did you learn to do that?" I asked a smiling Janice. 

"I told you, I'm not pretty and built like Wendy," she smiled. "So I had to develop some skills." 

I suddenly felt sorry for Rick. I wondered exactly how many dicks his wife had to suck to become that God Damned good at it. 

"Janice, you're awesome," I said. "I know you want to stay with Rick, but if you change your mind ... I would take you in a heartbeat." 

Janice giggled. "What would you want with a fat girl with three kids?" she laughed. 

"Janice you're one of the sweetest women I know. Your kids are great. I wouldn't mind being around them. And if I got some of this regularly, I would be in heaven," I said. 

"So where were we?" she asked. "Oh shit! You came. We have to start all over again." She wiped the corner of her mouth and smeared a little of my sperm that had come out. 

She went over to Rick, who looked as if he wanted to do anything except kiss her. She kissed him and forced her tongue into his mouth. "I love you Rick," she said. "I always have. I have never cheated on you until now. This is your last chance. If you ever do this again, you'll not only lose me ... You won't EVER see your kids again. Now go pick them up from school. You're already late. And Call before you come home. I'm not sure how long this is going to take." 

I waved at him as he turned to leave. 

After he closed the door, I sat down on the sofa. "That was great Janice," I said. "And I meant what I said ... If you ever get tired of him ..." I picked up my pants from where we'd thrown them. 

"What are you doing?" she smiled. "I've never lied to Rick and I'm not going to start now." She dropped to her knees in front of me. I pulled her up and lay down on her couch. I pulled her in front of me so we were spooned. I nibbled at her ears and licked those huge tits. I sucked on them like I wanted to get milk out of them. 

"Rick, you can't get me worked up like this and not ..." she began. I lifted her top leg and entered her from behind. Our coupling was gentle and loving at first and then she started begging me to fuck her harder and faster. I rolled her over onto her back and started to pound her. She wrapped those thick legs around me and started pushing her bald pussy against me. 

When I finally came inside of her it felt as if my insides were ripped out of me and only a couple of small drops came out. I collapsed onto her and she wrapped her arms around me. We kissed passionately for a few moments and then fell asleep in each other's arms. 

The sound of the phone woke us up. We had moved while we slept into a very comfortable position. My dick was sandwiched between her ass cheeks, my arms were wrapped around her with one hand on one of those big boobs and the other on her tummy. 

"Are you still at the restaurant?" she asked. "Good ... bring me a quarter pounder with cheese meal and bring the kids home." 

I dressed, kissed her one last time and drove home. Once I got there, I took a shower and went into the kitchen to get something to eat. I had a can of soup in front of the TV and noticed that the message light was blinking on my phone. 

I quickly scrolled through the messages, most of which were from Wendy. The latest one had come that evening. I wondered whether or not Wendy knew what I'd done that evening. And if she did know who'd told her. Had Rick told her, hoping to have someone to commiserate with, or hoping that they could get together again as some sort of revenge for the revenge? Or had it been Janice? Had Janice decided that she should throw what we'd done in Wendy's face as her way of getting revenge on her friend ... I guess former friend would be more correct. 

The next morning I went to work as usual. While there, I tried my best to do all of the things that my boss would normally handle and still do my job as well. I took a break at about 10:30 and did an Internet search for the best divorce lawyers in our area. 

I called three of them. One of them struck me the wrong way from the beginning. He had an attitude that told me that my case was only one of many and his purpose was to get as much money out of the situation as possible. Not for me, or for Wendy, he was only looking to get as much money for himself as possible. 

The third guy was unavailable. The procedure in his office was that I would make an appointment to speak to one of his assistants who would take down the details of the case and handle most if the paperwork and initial meetings. If anything didn't go well or there were any complications, I'd get an appointment to see him. I crossed him off of the list as well. 

That left the guy in the middle, who turned out to be a woman. Not only was she available for an appointment that day, but after finding out my work situation, she agreed to come to me. I suggested a luncheon meeting and had Darwin cater a lunch from one of the best places in town. 

The lunch went really well. I gave her all of my financial information and the details of why I wanted the divorce. Her first suggestion was for me to talk to Wendy. 

"You have no idea why she did what she did," she said. "Once the two of you talk, you might find yourself able to forgive her." 

I nodded my head. I told her that I would speak to Wendy, but that I wanted her to draw up the papers in the mean time. 

As she left, promising to stay in touch, it seemed to be perfectly timed for Darwin to arrive to tell me that I had a phone call. 

As I answered the phone I knew instantly who it was. Wendy's parents and I had grown close over the ten years, eight of which we'd been married, that I'd known them. His voice sounded heavier this time although he was trying to remain cordial.  

"Vee, how are you?" he asked. 

"I'm fine," I said evenly. 

"Yes, I can hear that in the tone of your voice," he said. The sarcasm in HIS tone wasn't lost on me. "So what's going on with the happiest, most in-love couple I know?" 




Survivor's Remorse



"I have no idea who that is," I said. 

"Until about three days ago, I'd have bet my seat in heaven that it was you and Wendy," he said. "It's always been that way. But now she's at my house, crying her eyes out and you haven't called her once. What exactly did you do to her? Wait, before you answer that one ... Why the hell do you seem so calm? You should be busting your ass trying to get her to forgive you."

"I probably should," I said, keeping my voice neutral. 

"Something's wrong here, son," he said. "From the first time I laid eyes on you, I was a little bit scared. Not physically ... I wasn't intimidated by you, you were just as friendly as you could be. But I had the distinct feeling that you were going to be the one who took my baby away from me. And Damned if you didn't. But now I'm kinda scared all over again that you're gonna give her back ... And my baby is gonna be miserable." He sighed. 

"You know Vee, as the pastor of my church; I'm often called upon to help couples with their marital issues. So if there's something you need to get off of your chest ... You can trust me. I may seem like an old fatherly type, but believe me ... I've heard it all. Whatever you're going through, I've heard it before," he said. 

"Dad, it isn't my place to say," I said. "If you want to find out what happened, you're going to have to ask Wendy." 

"Okay, Vee, I'm going to do exactly that," he said. "I'll talk to you soon." 

For the rest of the afternoon, I worked as hard as I could. I checked on the other guys in our department to make sure that they had everything they needed to work on their projects. I did this without asking them if they were on time to make their deadlines. I hated it when my boss did that to me. I wanted to let them know that I was there to support them, but without looking over their shoulders or putting any additional pressure on them. 

They were all professionals. If they thought they were going to be late, they all knew enough to tell me early. The earlier I knew about a problem the better the chances that I could get them additional help or resources. It also gave us a chance to let the customer know earlier, so they could plan for it as well. 

There were a couple of problems that I needed to handle. One was from a team that needed a very exotic type of metal that we didn't stock, for their prototype. I got Darwin to handle that. It was two hours later that I found out that Darwin had tried to stab me in the back. 

The other problem was easier to handle. Another team needed more drawings done than they could handle in the time remaining. That was easy; I took some of their detail work and added it to my list. A few of the other prints I gave to a couple of our more talented interns, with instructions to show every completed layer to the team leader. 

I ended up staying later than usual at work that evening. It gave me a chance to draw some of those extra prints and also to stay on schedule on my own projects. At five o'clock on the dot, Darwin who was, of course, leaving poked his head in my office with a message for me. Mr. Whittaker, the owner of the company wanted to meet with me at my earliest convenience. 

I called his office in the main building downtown and spoke to his secretary. She sounded really nice. "He's already on his way home. He just left," she said. "When would you like to meet with him? How about first thing in the morning?" 

"How early does he get in?" I asked. 

"Usually around ten or so," she said. 

"I was hoping for an eight o'clock slot or earlier," I said. "I'm trying to do the things my boss usually does and my work too so I'm ..." 

"Are you still at the plant?" she asked. 

"I'm gonna be here for at least another hour or two," I told her. 

"Sit tight, Honey," she said. "I'll get back to you." 

About forty minutes later, the door o my office opened. I thought it was one of the other guys who'd stayed late like I was. 

"Let me just save this layer and I'll be right with you," I said. 

"Take your time," he said. I went into shock. I recognized the voice from our company Christmas parties, when the bonus checks were given out. 

"Sorry Sir," I said turning to face him. 

"Irving Dallbinger," he smiled. "I'm told by Frank that you answer to Vee?" 

I just nodded. "Vee, why are you still here?" he smiled. 

"I'm trying to help out while Frank is away," I said. "But I already had a full load on my plate. And I've had to take on a few more prints from one of the other teams to make sure they finish their project on time and ..." He held up his hand for me to stop. 

"Vee, you're one of our best engineers. Frank is always talking about the way you did this or that. We also got a lot of very good feedback from the conference in Chicago. Your presentation drummed up a lot of new business. I have two orders of business to handle with you and then I'll leave you to it. 

The first is a word of advice. As I said before, you're a great engineer, but as a manager, you're going to need an additional set of tools and experience in using them. Here's your first new tool. Delegate ... Find the people on your team who are less busy and give THEM more to do. Trying to handle more will make them better. It's good for their development and it makes the team stronger. In some cases you'll find out that your people are capable of far more than you asked of them. In other cases you'll discover your weak links. When you find those weak links ... Do yourself and THEM a favor and get rid of them. 

"I'm only doing this temporarily," I said. "But I'll remember your advice for the future." 

"Vee today is the future," he said. "While Frank was in traction ... It was a really lucky thing ... They discovered that he has Prostate Cancer. It's in an early stage so it's easily cured, but Frank is already 59 years old. They want to let the leg heal before they do the surgery. After the surgery there will probably be radiation or chemo for whatever the surgery missed. Frank is going to be out for a while. He's a good guy. He thinks rather highly of you too. So when he comes back I'm going to move him into a more advisory position. He will report directly to the board so we get information on what's going in on our various departments more directly. You'll still have a lot of contact with him."

"Wow that sounds like a great job!" I said. "He deserves it." 

"So effective tomorrow morning you'll be taking over for him permanently," he said. 

"Me?" I said in surprise. He nodded.

"That brings me to my second task," he said. "Do you remember those tools I told you that you would have to learn to use?" 

"Delegation is the first one," I said. He smiled. 

"You'll learn others as you attend the managers meetings," he said. "You'll probably have several of the other managers volunteer to mentor you until you gain experience. But anyway ... I have those same tools. One of them that I experimented with has proven problematic. 

The reason I wanted to meet with you was because I received some very interesting information today from Darwin. He told me that you wanted to order some very expensive metal for the prototype for one of our customer's parts. He told me that if I wanted he would inform you that we can make the parts from steel or aluminum that we already have in stock. Not only will it save us time, but it will save us money. He also told me that you had a meeting with an outside attorney on our premises." 

"It was on my lunch hour," I said. "I thought it would save time for me to bring her here, so I could keep working." He lifted an eyebrow. 

"I'm going through a divorce," I said. "And we need to make the prototypes out of the same metal the parts will be made from so we learn everything we need to know about the tool paths and wear and tear on the cutters. The additional cost for the metal comes from the customer's costs not ours." 

"Vee, you run your department as you see fit," he said. "I offered you the job already. What I need you to do is fire Darwin. He was an experiment. I wanted to see if a pure business type would be helpful in a management situation only. The problem is that he knows almost nothing about what we do, and he doesn't seem to be adapting. 

"But he does seem to be bringing some of HIS petty backstabbing and In-fighting into MY business and I can't tolerate that. Besides, now that you know that he went behind your back to tell on you, it only serves to show that you can't trust him. Would you really feel comfortable with him in your office? You can find your own assistant." He turned and headed for the door. 

As he got to the doorway he turned and smiled at me. "Good Luck," he said. "Oh, don't forget to stop by the main building as early as possible tomorrow. I'm sure the people in HR will have all kinds of paperwork for you to fill out concerning your new position." 

I was floored. I sat down and the biggest smile broke out on my face. I couldn't wait to get home and tell Wendy. Then I remembered that there was no Wendy at home waiting for me. I also remembered why. That seemed to flip some sort of switch in my mind. I picked up the phone and called my lawyer. I told her to go ahead and have the papers served. It just made sense. There were so many new things going on in my life. Cleaning up my wreck of a marriage and starting fresh in my personal life seemed to make sense. 

* * * * * *

Wendy

I was lying on my bed. It was the only thing I seemed to be able to do lately. I had no energy and I barely ate. My life was a shambles. 

I heard the doorbell ring and a few moments later my mom came to get me. 

"Wendy, there's a young woman downstairs to see you," she said. Her look spoke of concern and sorrow. What I was going through was bothering my mom nearly as much as it was me. 

I wiped away my tears and went down the stairs. A young woman stood there. She looked like a college student and a really pretty one. She had long thick blond hair that was all swept to one side in an incredible pony tail. She was politely chatting with my dad and when she saw me she smiled at me. And then her face changed. It was as if she could sense my sadness and she empathized with me. 

She was chewing gum and as she began to speak, she stopped. She didn't take the gum out. She may have swallowed it. "Hi," she said compassionately. "Are you Wendy Dallbinger?" 

"Yes," I said. My voice surprised me. I sounded dead. I sounded as if every bit of life had been sucked out of me. 

"Wendy, I'm sorry I have to do this. Maybe you're expecting it ... At any rate it's my job," she reached into her briefcase and took out a packet of papers. She handed them to me. "I really hope everything works out for you. Have a good day." And then she turned and left the house. 

I looked over the papers and went even deeper into shock. The neatly stacked documents dropped from my nerveless fingers and fluttered downwards, scattering like leaves in the wind. 

My dad dropped to his knees to pick them up as I almost collapsed from the sudden weakness in my knees. 

"What is it?" asked my mom. 

"They're divorce papers," hissed my Dad. "I knew Vee was upset about whatever he did to you, but I didn't think he'd take it this far. But we have to look at this from the bright side." 

"What bright side?" I asked. 

"Now he'll have to sit down and talk to you," said my dad. "Now we can sit down at a table and try to talk some sense into him. You are obviously willing to listen to whatever he has to say. Do you think you're ready to forgive him?" 

"Dad," I said slowly. "I think the time has come for me to tell you the truth. When I first got here, I may have withheld a few facts. And after that you jumped to a conclusion that I allowed you to maintain." 

He looked at me in confusion. "Wendy, this isn't the time for any of that double talk that you kids do. Just spit out whatever you're trying to tell me, Honey. I know you're probably still pissed at him. But you're miserable. Is whatever he did so bad that you can't forgive him? He obviously thinks so; he's looking for a divorce." 

"Daddy will you listen to me!" I shouted. "I'm trying to tell you the truth!"

Both he and my mom turned to look at me. 

"Vee didn't do anything," I said. "It's all my fault. I jumped to a conclusion that I later on realized was wrong. Actually, I don't know what happened or why, but I cheated on Vee. I started having sex with my best friend's husband. Vee came home unexpectedly and caught us. I didn't come here to give us some space. Vee asked me to leave. After he beat the cowboy shit out of Rick, he was a perfect gentleman to me. He told me that he had to go out of town for work and asked me to be gone by the time he got back. 

He never laid a hand on ME and he didn't even yell at me." 

Neither of them said a word. My mom's mouth just hung open. My dad glared at me. Then he walked away and into his study. I could tell that he was very disappointed in me. I just stood there. Surprisingly, I felt better. I think it was all of the guilt and the pressure of keeping what I'd done from my parents. Letting it out relieved a small amount of my tension. 

My mom and I just stared at each other. Neither of us knew what to say. 

A while later, my dad emerged from his study. He smiled at me and wiped his eyes. He had put on his "professional," face. It was the one he used when he was trying to provide guidance for some of the members of his church who were going through troubles. 

"Wendy, do you love Vee?" he asked me. "Is he a good husband? Do you want to remain married to him?" 

For some reason, I got angry. "Of course I love him Dad. Why the fuck do you think I've been so upset? Jeezus, what's wrong with you?" I shouted.

"Wendy," he shouted right back. "Taking the Lord's name in vain isn't going to help anything. And when did you start using profanity?" Our mutual reaction proved more than anything else that I was definitely HIS daughter. We both took a step back and we both took very deep breaths. 

"So why'd you do it Honey?" he asked. 

"Mm unh?" I shrugged my shoulders. 

"Jeezus!" he shouted. "What the hell have you become? First I find out that the little girl I raised has become an adulteress. You've betrayed the wedding vows that you spoke in MY church. And now you don't even know why. Well Missy, you need to Damned well come up with a reason. I called Vee and convinced him to meet us for dinner tomorrow night so we can talk about this whole thing. You had better have some kind of reason by then because I'm pretty sure he's going to want to know why his marriage went to hell." 

"Dad, that's great!" I screamed. "Why are you getting so upset?" 

"Because I pride myself on being a good judge of character," he spat. "But when I called him the other day, I was so sure that my little angel was not at fault that I practically accused him of being the reason for all of this. I actually commented on his lack of effort in trying to get YOU to forgive HIM. And he was so icily calm about everything. Now I know why he just told me that I had to talk to you to find out what was going on." 

"I'm sorry Dad," I said with mock seriousness. "Please forgive me for not wanting to embarrass myself any further. I was only suffering from a broken heart from losing the man I love. I am sooooo sorry that I didn't want to make myself feel even worse by admitting to my parents that I cheated and ruined my marriage." 

"Cut the sarcasm, Wendy," he spat. "As usual you're only thinking about what you want and how this affects you. How about thinking about how Vee is feeling right now? The man loves you. You are everything to him. Have you noticed how he doesn't seem to react to anything in a normal way anymore? I think that what you did unhinged him. And while we're on the subject, can you imagine how some of the people on my church are going to see this. I mean how can I be the leader of a congregation and be expected to teach other people to live a good clean life, when my own daughter is ..." 

"I get it, Daddy," I spat. "Do you want me to move to Babylon? Maybe they have an opening for another whore? I didn't come home to be a part of one of your sermons. And I didn't come here to get you to help me. I just came home to be with my PARENTS, while I'm suffering. I didn't come for a blessing. Can I just be your daughter, instead of a part of your flock? Vee and I don't even go to church, anyway."

The rest of that evening was tense. For the first time in my life, I got the feeling that my daddy, wasn't exactly in my fan club. And to be truthful, it didn't really matter. I think that at thirty years old, I grew up. The only person that mattered to me was Vee. If my parents questioned or didn't like a choice I had made, I could live with it. But I had to do whatever it took to get my husband back. 

I spent the next day preparing for the dinner and talk with Vee. I got my hair styled, but I didn't get my makeup done. I wanted him to see my face as it was. I didn't want to go in looking like I had just come back from a spa. I wanted him to see how miserable I was. 

It was a tricky balance to achieve. On one hand, I needed to look so sad that his love for me would trigger him to do whatever it took to make me happy again. But on the other hand, I needed to look good enough that he would see what he was trying to give up. I think I pulled it off. 

* * * * * *

Vee

I called my secretary and told her that I would be late. I told her not to say anything to Darwin about it. I then drove downtown to the main building to speak to the people in HR. 

On my way there I decided to stop off at Dunkin donuts for coffee. I was feeling sluggish that morning and I needed a boost. 

While I was standing in line I heard the old guy behind me start talking. Apparently, many of the people in the restaurant were regulars and knew each other. 

"Oh Hell! They're at it again," he said. Almost every head turned towards the windows.

I noticed two cars pulled up at a traffic light on southbound Woodward Avenue. The stretch we were on would be a part of the Dream cruise route in a few months, but on that early morning there was very little traffic. 

One of the cars was a heavily modified Chrysler 300. The other was a Camaro. I had no idea what had been done to the engines on either car, but on general principle I gave the edge to the Camaro. For one thing it was lighter and built for this kind of racing. And for another thing, I just prefer pony cars to lumbering behemoths like the 300. 

As soon as the light changed, they were gone. The three hundred took off like a raped ape. The Camaro was probably packing a lot of horsepower because the guy driving it fishtailed and spun his tires for a fraction of a second while the 300 was gaining ground. But once the Camaro's tires began to bite the car took off like a rocket. Barely halfway up the distance to the next stop light it caught the 300 and won by half a car length. 

Both cars pulled around the turnaround and stopped in a parking lot across Woodward from the donut shop. I got my coffee and a cinnamon glazed donut and headed for my Jeep. 

Just as I got to my Jeep the two racers were settling their business. The guy in the 300 was whining which made me believe that they were either racing for money or for pink slips. I'd done a lot of racing, either legal or illegal, but I had never raced for money and I would never risk losing my car. 

I sat there half in and half out of my Jeep with my mouth open. The driver of the Camaro got out and exchanged words with the other guy. The thing that had shocked me into an inanimate state was seeing the driver of the Camaro. HE was a SHE. And from across the street, SHE was incredibly hot. The 300 driver seemed to be upset about losing. Whatever the stakes of their race it seemed to be something he didn't want to lose.




Survivor's Remorse



I finally got my wits together enough to get into my Jeep and start driving. The freeways, according to my driving app were clogged, so I elected to take Woodward downtown.

Imagine my surprise, when a few moments later, the same charcoal gray Camaro pulled up next to me at a light. I looked down into the car from my Jeep's higher vantage point. All I could see was a pair of long tan legs. The face behind an oversized pair of sunglasses looked over at me. Before I could really concentrate on the features of that face, my long dead reflexes fired and I shot away from the light. 

Her Camaro was much faster than my Jeep, although my Jeep, a blacked out 2014 Grand Cherokee SRT8 was no slouch. I had no intention of racing; those days were far behind me. They had cost me too much. I also had no intention of breaking the speed limit. If I were in the mind to race anyone, at any time, it definitely would not have been on Woodward, in Ferndale. The Ferndale police are simply too efficient when it comes to catching speeders. 

Ferndale was also somewhat of a speed trap. The speed limit everywhere else down the broad avenue that went all the way from Jefferson Avenue on the banks of the river that separated Detroit, Michigan, USA from Windsor, Ontario, Canada, to faraway Pontiac, Michigan was at least 40 mph. In the tiny, three miles of Ferndale, the speed limit was only 35 and you had to drive nearly halfway through it before you saw that it was posted. They write a lot of tickets there. 

Anyway, she had no problem fracturing the speed limit. She passed me before we hit the next light. She nodded over at me. She had a big smile on her face. The dark tan of her flawless skin contracted against very white teeth. Her lips were generous and there was something exotic about her face. 

There was no way I would catch her napping twice. She looked away from me long before the light changed. She revved her engine and got ready. 

I have no reason for doing what I did. But as soon as the light changed, my reflexes took over again. A fraction of a second after the light changed, I was already in motion. She was still on the process of slamming her foot down, but I was already moving. Her Camaro also had the problem of spinning its tires when she lead footed it. So once again I found myself getting a healthy jump on her.

Based on the fact that I used to be HER, or at least very much like her, I knew that she was pissed. When you add to that the fact that her tires shrieking as she took off had everyone in our block of traffic staring at her, the anger was even more clear. 

She prided herself on her driving abilities and her car. We have already established that her car was faster than mine. But both of us knew that, had I been driving a car that was anywhere near her equal, I'd have beaten her twice. Her pride meant that it would not happen a third time. 

Unfortunately, traffic was not on her side. Traffic in my lane was clear and hers was full of cars, so by the time we hit the next stop light, I drove through and she ended up getting caught by the light changing to red. I smiled and breathed a sigh of relief. I also laughed bit thinking about her. 

I made it to my destination without further incident. I parked in the huge lot in the rear of the building and checked a building map to find out where I was going. I found out that HR was located on the top floor of the building. Mr. Whittaker's office was also on that floor. 

I walked over to the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor. Just as the doors started to close, I heard the footsteps of someone running for the elevator. I placed my hand between the closing doors to stop them from closing and halt the car. 

My mouth dropped open as SHE stepped into the car. "Thanks," she said quickly and then she noticed who I was. Her expression of gratitude morphed into a wry smile as she recognized me. 

"Okay, who are you and what are you doing in MY building?" she asked. 

"Please tell me that you don't work in HR," I said, ignoring her question. 

"I don't," she said. "Why don't you want me to work there?" 

"Because that's where I'm going and you didn't seem to make that guy you raced against very happy this morning, so ... I was worried about being treated that way too," I said. 

"Do you have any idea what we were racing for?" she smirked. 

"Money?" I asked.

"Nope," she smiled. 

"Pink slips?" I asked.

"Nope ... Something he wanted much more than that," she said. "Any guy who wants to date me has to beat me in a race. But I usually only give them three chances. After that we are clearly not compatible." 

By the time she was done the elevator had reached our floor and we both got out. It almost seemed as if she wanted to say something else, but the opportunity was lost. 

I went to HR and found that they didn't open until 9 a.m.

"Shit," I muttered. 

"Not out here. We have a room at the end of the hall for that," said a voice from behind me. "What's the problem, Andretti?" 

"I came in to fill out some paper work for my new job," I said. 

"Ooh, a new employee. You can just wait until HR opens. Have them write a note to your new boss, to explain why you're late," she said. "We generally give new guys a bit of leeway on their first few days." 

"I'm not a new guy," I said. "I just got a promotion and Mr. Whittaker told me to come here as soon as possible. I kind of wanted to take care of it early and get to work as close to on time as possible. I need to justify the faith he's showing in me." 

"A promotion from what to what?" she asked. 

"From engineer to engineering department manager as of today," I said nervously. 

"Vee!" she smiled. "Congratulations!" 

"How did you know that?" I asked. 

"My feelings are really hurt now," she pouted. "You don't remember talking to me on the phone yesterday?" 

"I'm sorry ... Uhm?" I began. 

"Saraya," she supplied. "Actually it's Saraya Marie, but I suppose I'm lucky it's not Saraya Mary. A lot of Hispanic girls get Mary as a middle name." 

It explained a lot. 

"Yep, I'm Mexican," she smiled. "Does that mean you're falling out of love with me?" 

"Not a chance," I said. "Wait a minute! Who said I was in love with you?" 

"Please, Crazy boy. You haven't been able to take your eyes off of me since you first saw me," she grinned. As she said it a curtain of foamy black hair swirled around her face, temporarily obscuring it. Her thick, nearly waist length hair was a big part of her beauty.

"You do know that you can simply call HR and have them fax most of the papers to you and you can fax them back," she said. Anything that can't be faxed can always be messengered over to you or you could make arrangements to come over and fill out at a time that's more convenient for you," she said. "Mr. Whittaker ..." she smiled as she said his name. For some reason that pissed me off. She obviously had some kind of relationship with him that went beyond work. I was jealous. 

I swear the woman was psychic, because she seemed to pick up on my feelings. 

"Anyway," she continued. "He's kind of old school. So he doesn't think about faxing or doing things on the computer. I'll explain the situation to HR. They're going to need to see something on paper confirming you promotion anyway. I'll also let him know how hard you're working to justify ... What did you call it? ... His faith in you?" 

"Thank you, Saraya," I said. Her name rhymed with Mariah. It felt good in my mouth. "Have a great day." 

"Are you ready for your first big task?" she asked, keeping the conversation going. I was getting the idea that she didn't want our talk to end." 

"What big task?" I smiled. 

"Getting rid of that asshole, Darwin," she smiled. 

"You don't like him?" I asked. "I thought all of you business types got along." 

"He's cheesy and sneaky," she spat. "You weren't at the company picnic last year were you? That's probably why you don't remember when I decked him. He grabbed my ass on the sly and I just launched on him. I guess you were still happily married back then, right?" 

My face folded up. What she'd just told me reminded me that she definitely had a relationship with Mr. Whittaker. I had told him about my divorce after working hours, but she already knew about it. They were definitely a thing. I couldn't blame him." 

As I turned to go she spoke up again. "Vee ... I wish you had a faster car," she said, leaving me puzzled. "Delegate!" she threw in as a parting shot. 

I got back across town in far less time than it had taken me to get there. Traffic going north was much less congested than traffic going into the city at that time of the morning. I was able to take the freeway and even though I stuck to the speed limit, it was much faster. 

I was only ten minutes late. I went from office to office gathering the staff into our conference room. I told them all that it would be a quick impromptu meeting and it wouldn't take very long. 

Our staff consisted of five engineers, eight CAD draftsmen, four shared secretaries, two assistants, two CNC programmer/operators, two clay modelers, Darwin and me. 

Just as I got ready to speak, Darwin spoke to me. For the first time I noticed exactly what Saraya had been talking about. 

"Vee, you were ten minutes late this morning," he pointed out. "You'd better be careful; I have to make a report to Frank when he gets back. He expects me to run a tight ship in his absence. But since this was the first time, I'll let it slide." I just nodded but I couldn't believe he was trying to break my balls in front of our coworkers.

"Okay, everyone," I began. "First off, I want to thank you all for pitching in and helping out for the past few days while Frank is in the hospital. And it's Frank that we're here to talk about, in a way. Sometimes things that we think are really bad luck turn out to be good luck in disguise. 

While he's been hospitalized they did a lot of tests on Frank and discovered that he has Prostate Cancer. While they didn't catch it as early as they'd have liked, it's still very treatable. But Frank is going to be away for a lot longer than we thought. In fact when he returns, Mr. Whittaker has created a new position for him as kind of a liaison between all of the various departments and the board. 

That was why I was a few minutes late this morning. I had a brief meeting last night with Mr. Whittaker and he had me go over to HR this morning..." 

"Why did you have to go to HR?" interrupted Darwin. 

"I have a bunch of paperwork to fill out, since I'll be taking Frank's place permanently," I said. 

Everyone in the office started cheering and patting me on the back. 

"The way I see it, nothing will change," I said. "You're already excellent at doing your jobs, so let's get back to work." 

I went into my office, knowing that a suddenly nervous Darwin would eventually come in. I started going over my list of assignments to figure out which ones I could give to someone else to free up a part of my time for handling the more managerial duties. 

"Uhm, Vee, I don't know what you've fucked up already, but you need to get over to Frank's office, pronto," he said walking into my office. "Maybe I should go with you. I figure that knowing you, you'll want to do mostly the engineering stuff and I'll do the management stuff for you, like we've been doing so far. Oh, are you going to move into Frank's office soon? I was kind of thinking that I could have this one when you do." 

I just stared at him. "Darwin, what are you babbling about?" I asked. 

"Look Vee, I know you're pissed about me talking about you being late. I had no idea that Whittaker had asked you to go to HR. And since you're the manager now, you can come and go as you choose like Frank always did. But like you said this morning, we all have to pull together to make things a success and right now we have a problem," he said. 

"What kind of problem do we have, Darwin?" I asked him. 

"Whittaker's fucking daughter is here. She just showed up out of the blue, with no warning and a stack of papers. I'm pretty sure she's here to spy on us. They're probably waiting for you to screw up since you have absolutely no management experience," he said. 

The door opened behind him. And he didn't seem to notice it. 

"We have to be really careful. She's an absolute bitch," he said. 

"Good to see you remember me, Darwin," said Saraya stepping into the office. "Vee, I thought I would save you a trip. I brought all of your paperwork to you. The people in HR want the originals for your file. For some reason they don't like faxed copies." 

She walked around my office looking at things and touching things. "Why do you have so many computers in here?" she asked. 

"Those two are for AutoCAD and Master Cam," I said pointing to the two computers in the corner. "That one is for UG. None of those machines are internet accessible so none of our work can be stolen. The one on the desk is my normal office PC. The last one over there is a HAAS simulator so we can test out CNC programs for the prototypes." 

"Wow, that's interesting," she said. 

"So you're not really Whittaker's secretary?" I asked. 

"Kind of, sort of," she smiled. "I was looking for a new career to get into after my divorce. I'm doing that until I figure out what I really want to do." 

"What did you do before?" I asked. 

"I was the office manager at the insurance company my ex worked for. That was where we met actually," she said. "My dad has an assistant and a secretary already, so me dropping by to visit you won't hurt much." 

"Saraya, see the big office over there?" I pointed at Frank's vacant office. "Go take a look at it. I'll come over in a second." She looked at me quizzically and shrugged her shoulders. 

"Are you guys friends?" asked Darwin. "Shit that'll help us out." 

"Darwin close the door," I said softly. He closed the door and turned back to look at me. 

"Boy, I put my foot in that one," he said. "Luckily she was so focused on you that she didn't really register what I said." 

"That isn't it," I said. "It's mind over matter. She didn't mind because you don't matter anymore." 

"What do you mean?" he asked. "Just because they picked you to manage the department doesn't mean that I'm not important." 

"Around here it means you're fired!" I said. 

"I'm what ... You're kidding right? Why? ... You can't be that pissed because I talked about you being late? I was joking. You know how we all joke around here? Ha ha ha funny, funny!" he sputtered. 

"Actually that wasn't it," I said calmly. "Darwin, you're talking all of this bullshit about us all working together, but the truth is you've never tried to be one of us. You've always gone out of your way to show that you were above us all. 

Your job as Frank's Assistant was to coordinate our efforts and help us to stay organized. But you always acted as if WE worked for you instead of the other way around." 

"Okay, I'll accept your criticism and change," he said. 

"It's too late for that Darwin," I said. "Let's not draw this out. HR will conduct your exit interview and ..." 

"Fuck you Vee," he hissed. "I'm not going anywhere. You didn't hire me. So you can't fire me. I'm going to Whittaker. We'll let him handle this." 

"He was the one who suggested that I fire you," I said. "So feel free."

"Now I get it," he said. "Whittaker doesn't understand us, Vee. He probably thinks that since I was Frank's assistant, you and I can't work together. We just have to show him we can. You get to pick your own assistant, Vee. We'll be a great team." 

"Although you don't deserve it, I'm going to give you a good recommendation," I said. "But the real reason that Whittaker suggested that you be let go was because I can't trust you Darwin. He told me how you went behind my back and blabbed to him about a couple of really minor incidents. He was the one who told me that how we run the engineering department is up to us. And to do that, we all need to be able to trust each other. I really can't trust you. You tried to get me in trouble or fired over a job I never wanted in the first place. Take the rest of the day to pack up your stuff. And good luck, Darwin." 

I walked across the hall to the glass enclosed central office. Saraya was looking around it.

"So whadda ya think?" I asked. 

"I think this is a beautiful office and I'm going to go over to the hospital and kick my Uncle Frank's ass. I opened one of the drawers and found a sandwich that has to be at least a week old," she said. As she spoke she smiled and moved closer to me. "Do you want little old me to help you decorate your new office?" she asked with an amazing lilt in her voice. 

"God, I wish you car was faster," she gushed. "How's the divorce going?" 

"You are really direct," I said. "So, I'm gonna be too. You saw my office, right?" She nodded. 

"I know it's a mess, but it's functional and I know where everything is," I said. "I like my office and I'm not leaving it." 

"So you're going to have two offices?" she asked. "I get it. A showplace and a go place. We could call the other one your Lab." 

"Actually, I thought we could call this one yours," I said. 

"My what?" she smiled. 

"Is Frank really your uncle?" I asked. 

"Nope, but he helped my dad build up the company and I've known him since I was a little girl," she said. 

"But Whittaker isn't Mexican, so ...?" I began. 

"He met my mom, when ... You'd better sit down," she said. We sat down across the desk from each other. 

"He met my mom a little over thirty two years ago. She was pregnant, had just come into the country illegally and he couldn't take his eyes off of her. It was actually worse than that. She was running from her boyfriend in Mexico, who used to beat her, from what she told me. She asked him for any kind of work that would let her make some money for food.

They were never separated after that. He moved her into his house. She thought he wanted her to clean it. She always told me that she fell for him on sight, but she just could never understand what he saw in her." 

"Did she look like ..." I began.

"Spittin' image," she grinned. "She died when I was twelve. It's been dad and me ever since." 

"He never remarried?" I asked. She shook her head. 

"So where'd you go to school?" I asked. 

"Michigan State," she said.

"Ooh, you lost points on that one," I smirked. 

"How old are you?" I asked. 

"I'm one year and three months older than you are," she said. "I'm five seven, a hundred and twenty three pounds. Thirty four double D, twenty four thirty eight, to answer all of the things you wanted to know but didn't want to ask." 

"I wasn't going to ask you that stuff," I said. "This is a job interview." 

"But you wanted to know anyway didn't y ... What do you mean a job interview?" she sputtered. 

"I fired Darwin; I'm not a manager type of manager. I'm more of a managing engineer. I need an office manager type person as my second in command. You can have the big pretty glass box," I said.

"You're serious?" she asked. "I don't know anything about engineering." 

"Neither did Darwin, but I think you're smart enough to learn enough to do your job well," I smiled at her. She pulled out her phone. 

"Dad, I'm quitting ... Okay maybe I'm not exactly quitting it's more of a transfer. I'm going to work with Vee. I'm taking Darwin's job. You did tell him he could hire his own assistant. Okay, I'll see you at dinner." 

* * * * * *

Wendy

My dad and I got to the restaurant early. I sat nervously while he looked around. 

"Too bad this isn't the old days," I said. "I'd have known the instant that he pulled into the parking lot." 

"If you guys had that kind of bond, why the hell would you cheat on him? You make it seem like you could feel each other's presence. So surely he'd feel it if you were screwing some other guy," he said.