Zero Tolerance

"Stevie, please just do this one thing for me," she whined. "When you love someone you're supposed to support their dreams even if you don't understand them. If you just run in this one race, I swear I'll never ask you to do anything again. You run races all the time. You run marathons for God's sake. No one is asking you to run twenty six miles this time. It's only one freaking mile. If you can run twenty six miles just for the fuck of it, why can't you run one mile for me? Unless the reason you won't do it is because you really don't love me."

Needless to say, less than ten minutes later, I was on the track with twenty five other guys and four women. Dana sat in the first row clapping her hands together giddily and waving at me. I noticed the section around her was full of nothing but guys who weren't even watching the start of the race, they were watching her.

"Okay gentlemen," began the announcer. "You will be running one mile. That is four laps around the track. You will be eligible for two different prizes here. The first is an award for coming in first, second or third. The second is that we'll be comparing your time with the time you ran in high school gym class during the required physical fitness tests. The person who comes the closest to matching his or her high school time will get an award."

"What about age group awards?" asked a voice in the crowd.

"You're all in the same graduating class, asshole. That means you're all probably about the same age," said the announcer.

I noticed then that Mo was near me. "Hey Stevie, it's good to see that you're going out for something," he said. "Don't go out too fast. Try to start out at a pace you can keep up for the whole distance. The worst thing you can do is to go out too fast and have to drag your ass home tired with everyone else running by you and laughing."

"Thanks for the advice," I said.

Then, while I was still talking to him the gun went off. We started running. I expected a fast pace. Usually in a marathon, there's a big group of guys who go out really fast so they can get clear of the crowd and then settle into their pace. I guess that's what I expected. When the gun went off I thought it would be like getting shot out of a cannon. But it was more like we just dribbled out of the barrel.

I timed the first lap and we ran it in a minute and forty five seconds. That was a seven minute mile. I almost went to sleep. I could keep that pace up for ten miles easily. I moved up right behind Mo who was leading for the second lap. Mo kept the pace going as a lot of the runners started to drop back. At the end of that second lap, we were going even slower. But there were runners strung out behind us. By the third lap I realized that most of these guys never got any exercise. They were huffing and puffing worse than Mo. Mo was first, I was second and two of the women were third and fourth. Mo was huffing like an old freight train and he started looking over his shoulder. In a marathon that's a bad sign. It can either mean that you're trying to gauge your position and make sure no one is gaining on you, or that you're juiced and there's blood in the water.

I figured on the latter. So, at the end of the third lap with one lap to go, I just started running faster and went by Mo almost casually. I waited to see if he'd respond and I could tell from the look on his face that he couldn't, so, I just floored it. I ended up winning the race in a terribly pedestrian six minutes and fifty seconds. I was the only person under seven minutes. Mo ran seven forty five and came in fourth. The two women had passed him.

Since my fastest mile in high school was eight minutes and some change, I was also the person who did the best comparing themselves now to the old days. One of the women also beat her high school time but only by twenty seconds.

Dana was all over me. There were all kinds of people coming over to congratulate me. And the biggest sentiment among most people was that their surprise at seeing me win the race was only second to their shock at seeing someone, me in particular, beat Mo. That was unheard of.

When I went back over to the beach to relax for a while, there were tons of people coming over to see me. Some of them wanted to talk about possible jobs with my company, the rest wanted to talk about the race or the football game. I had no intention of playing in it. Dana kept trying to interject things into the conversations but no one was paying her any attention.

Finally, Marty came over and begged me to act as a reserve on the football team. There were so many people watching and waiting for my answer that I couldn't say no. We were only going to play flag football on the beach anyway. We went over to the field and I got my flags and stood on the sidelines. At least I could help by pointing out open players.

I noticed that Dana was pouting again. I couldn't figure out why. I thought she'd have been happy.

The game again was a spectacle of athletic mediocrity. Neither side seemed to be able to do anything. Towards the end of the first half, unbelievably the never-were team scored a touchdown. I was happy at first until I noticed Dana out there cheering in her swim suit again. I was sure that she'd understood my views on that. I glared at her and she pretended that she didn't see me.

Late in the second half, the team scored a touchdown to tie the game with only five minutes left to go. With less than a minute, they got an interception and looked like they were going to score again.

"We need you," said Marty. "We need you to cover one of their receivers. If you can prevent him from catching the ball we may be able to salvage a tie."

I was already pissed about Dana so I went in. How difficult could it be to prevent a guy from catching a ball? I lined up and followed Gary. He'd lined up as a receiver instead of a running back so I had an idea that Mo was going to throw him the ball.

When the ball was snapped, Mo looked across the field at his other receiver and so did everyone else. Mo cocked his arm back, turned and fired the ball, but not at the guy everyone was watching. He pitched it straight to Gary the way he always did. I leaped directly in front of Gary and snatched the ball. I took off for the opposite goal line with Gary chasing me. I could tell that Mo was pissed. He thundered towards me angrily. He didn't reach for my flags. He dove at me as if he was trying to tackle me. I think he was really pissed about that interception. I faked left and he dove just as I ran past him to the right. Mo landed in the dirt and I made my first and only ever touchdown.

I didn't have a touchdown dance or anything. I just stood there looking stupid and handed the ball to the referee. The announcer was telling the crowd that time had run out and the never-were team had won the game.

The entire crowd was screaming. I was getting so many pats on the back that it was crazy. My team mates came over and lifted me onto their shoulders.

That was the last good memory I have of that day. When my team mates put me down, I went off to find Dana.

"Well, it looks like you'll be getting your wish," she said acidly.

"No, it looks like I didn't," I snapped. "My wish was for you to take off that suit or at least keep it covered up. What happened to I'll change if you want me to?"

"What's wrong with my suit?" she asked. "You like looking at me in it. Why shouldn't the other men?"

"You're married to me," I retorted. "And I don't like having everyone look at you like that."

"Steve, you're my husband, not my master," she snapped. "I can do whatever the fuck I want. Not all of us just have everything handed to us. Some of us have to work to be noticed and get our votes. If you don't like having men look at me in this suit then maybe you should just go back to the hotel, because this afternoon is my last chance to get votes and I need to work it. I can't believe that so many people are voting for your girlfriend."

"Dana, I've never tried to tell you what to do, but don't walk around in that fucking suit," I said.

"What happens if I do?" she said.

"Forget it Dana," I snapped. "Do whatever you want."

I walked away from her and headed back to the hotel. Before I got there, Mo stopped me.

"Good job at the race," he said. I noticed that he hadn't mentioned anything about the football game.

"There's something I need to talk to you about," he said. "I'm in sales and I've been out of work for a while. I've heard about you having a company and I was wondering if you could give me a job. I mean we're old high school buddies and all, so you kind of owe it to me."

I looked at him as if he'd just shit a brick on the sidewalk. "I don't think so Maurice," I said and turned to go. He bristled when I called him Maurice.

"What the fuck do you mean, you don't think so?" he yelled.

"Exactly what I said," I said calmly. "I have high standards for my company and my employees. I'm not sure what kind of salesman you are. But I know the kind of person you were. Some things we grow out of and others stay with us. In high school you were the kind of person who enjoyed picking on and torturing people who were smaller than you were. Some people might have considered it a joke or did it once or twice. But you made a career out of it. You spent most of your time trying to think up ways to make life harder on people who were basically defenseless. I don't want someone like that working for me."

He started screaming as I walked away. I ignored him and headed for the parking lot and my car. I drove to the hotel. I started packing as soon as I got there. Before I finished, I got a call from the desk that a couple of people were waiting for me. There were more than a couple of people. And they all wanted information about my company. I went to the front desk and asked if the hotel had any office suits for visiting business men. The woman behind the desk spoke to the manager and I was able to get the use of one of their offices for a couple of hours. I called my office and got my company's information packet faxed over and made copies for everyone there. We discussed what my company was doing and where we were going. About halfway through the discussion, I noticed that among the late comers was a certain redhead who looked away shyly each time our eyes met.

After we got done and everyone had enough information to satisfy them, I started to go back to my room to finish packing.

"Stevie, I'm here to apologize again for my blockhead of a husband," she said. "I heard what he said to you and you were absolutely right. I can't believe that he gave you all of that stuff about being high school buddies and you owing him a shot. That's the reason why he's out of work now. He's too arrogant for his own good. Anyway, congratulations; it looks like you have your life on track. So many of us got stuck in that rut we created during high school and simply haven't moved past it."

"Thanks," I said and turned away. She grabbed my shoulder.

"Stevie, did I do something to you?" she asked. "I know your wife doesn't like me for some reason, and I can't think of anything bad I ever did to her. There are so many people who blame me for things that other people I know did. I've tried to apologize to her several times but she won't listen or accept my apology. What did I do to you two?"

"Marian, you never did anything to either one of us," I said.

"Then why do you walk away every time, I try to talk to you?" she asked. I could tell she was frustrated. Then she just started to vent.

"My whole life I've tried to be nice to everyone I've ever met. Why won't people ever give me a chance?" she said.

"Marian, it's not you," I said. "It's just people."

"Well, I'm a person too," she said. "I have feelings too. My life is hell. Mo treats me like a slave and everyone else treats me like a pariah. I came here to try to make some friends with people who know me. Half of them treat me like some kind of princess and the other half treat me like I'm the evil witch from Snow White. I can't even tell about you."

"Princess," I said. "Definitely Princess."

"You don't act like it," she pouted.

"Marian, in high school I was, as you remember, the butt of all of the jokes. I was the school whipping boy. But I had the biggest crush on you EVER. To me you were the most beautiful thing ever made. I was far too shy to ever look at you let alone talk to you," I said.

"That's so silly," she said. "Stevie, I talk to anyone who talks to me. I'm just a woman, nothing more. And that's part of the problem. All of the guys I've spoken to are constantly asking me how I ended up married to such a dick. I usually just shrug my shoulders but I want you to know the real reason. There are two. The first is that until we got married, Maurice never let me see that side of him. He was always on his best behavior. He always treated me kindly until we got married. Then he gradually started to let me see the true him. The second reason I ended up with him was because all of these nice guys who supposedly liked me, never had the balls to step up and try to talk to me. That left me two choices. Either I sat home alone and didn't go anywhere because no one ever asked me to, or I went out with the only guy who had enough guts to approach me."

"But you were like the queen of the school," I said. "How is some nobody supposed to measure up to that?"

"No one had to measure up to anything," she snapped. "We all have dreams and things we want. Do you know what my dream was?" I shook my head.

"I wanted what my sisters have. I wanted a man who loves me and a home and children. I don't need to go out and do a lot of fancy things. I don't need to have a lot of jewelry or any of that stuff. I want a man who looks at me the way you look at what's her name. Stevie, people have always told me that I'm pretty or whatever. I have three sisters and I'm the ugliest one of us. We all look like this, I'm nothing special. The only thing different about me is that all of my sisters have found men who treat them like they matter, while my husband can't keep a job and when he gets one, he spends every fucking penny trying to impress people. We have no savings and are barely above water. We were voted the couple most likely to succeed and the only thing we've succeeded at was high school."

I couldn't think of anything to say.

"Why doesn't your wife like me?" she asked.

"That's easy," I said. "You're her husband's dream woman."

"So is there a chance that I might get a dance from you tonight?" she asked. "I'd really like it and I could tell Mo that I was talking to you about at least giving him a formal interview."

"Not much of a chance of that I'm afraid," I said.

"The wife wouldn't allow it, huh?" she asked.

"That's not it," I said. "It's just that I'm leaving. I won't be here for the dance. I didn't want to come anyway. This was Dana's show."

"Stevie, you have to stay," she said. "Besides we'd have possibly gotten a chance for that dance anyway."

"What makes you think that?" I asked.

"Because, I'd spend the rest of the afternoon campaigning for votes to make sure I win for queen. Pretty much everyone is already voting for you for king. Then we'd have to dance together at least once," she said.

"I thought the voting was pretty close between you and Dana," I said.

"Oh it was," she said. "But I wasn't really trying. Things like that don't matter much to me. My dog wore my prom queen tiara on his collar for years. If you stay, I'll try to win. Besides most of the women have started to hate your wife because of that swimsuit she keeps falling out of. And a lot of the guys are starting to turn away from her too. Most of the people who are still voting for her are doing so because of you. So could you please stay so I can have one nice memory of this fiasco and maybe one nice new friend?"

There was simply no fucking way I could say no to her. "Only if I get more than one dance," I said.

There were all kinds of ideas going through my mind. On one hand, I needed to find out where she and Mo lived. Maybe they could relocate. I didn't want to hire Mo but maybe I could hire her. Shit, I'd hire Mo if it gave me the chance to look at her regularly. There was no way I'd consider cheating on Dana, I loved her too much. But Marian was so beautiful and the idea of being friends with my dream woman was really appealing.

And speaking of Dana, if she could run around looking like a whore in front of our entire class, then I could dance with Marian.

I got my suit out and laid it out on the bed. I decided to just call room service and grab a bite to eat and watch some television while I waited for the dance. I only had a couple of hours left before it would be time to leave.

Before my food arrived the door to the room opened and Dana walked in. there was something weird about her. "Why are your suitcases packed?" she asked. "Are we leaving?"

"I know that you aren't," I snapped. "But I was leaving. In fact, if a bunch of people looking for jobs hadn't convinced me to stay I'd have already left. That's why the bags are packed."

"But you didn't pack any of my stuff," she said. "You were going to leave without me?"

"Yep," I said turning back to the TV. "After that bullshit you gave me about how you're not my fucking slave, I don't want to do anything with you. And all I heard about this afternoon is you running around dressed and acting like a whore."

"You don't know what this means to me," she said.

"I guess I don't," I said, turning back to the TV again.

"Why don't I take a shower and freshen up and then I'll show you how much YOU mean to me," she said.

"No thanks," I said.

"You'll really like it," she said. "We both liked it last night and you wanted it again this morning."

"Look Dana, I'm trying to relax before I go to this fucking dance and pretend to have fun with a bunch of people who don't matter to me and a few who do. After that, I'm out of here. I may not even wait until morning to leave," I told her.

"Oh honey, that's so sweet," she gushed. "I know you're only going to the dance for me and I know this has been really bad. This is the first time we've ever argued. But we'll get over this. It's just a nightmare. By this time tomorrow, we'll be back the way we've always been. But can we please go to the farewell breakfast too. I want all of the people to get to see me and remember me as reunion queen. Think of it as part of the dance. If you can go to the dance for me, the breakfast is much shorter. Do that one more thing for me and I'll do things for you that will melt your nuts."

"Dana, I'm not going to the dance for you. I already told you I was going to leave. After the way you spoke to me this afternoon, fuck you and the dance. I'm only going because I promised a friend that I'd be there. I made no promises about the breakfast. You have your credit card. You can fly home whenever you want," I said.

She was acting really strangely. She kept looking at me to see if I was looking at her. I just watched my show and when it was time, I got into the shower and dressed.

"Stevie, aren't you forgetting something?" she asked.

"Like what?" I said as I opened the door.

"Like me," she said. "I'm not done getting ready."

"Then take the shuttle over there," I said. "Or let whoever brought you home take you back." I closed the door before I even heard her reply.

Even as I parked my Mustang, people were waiving at me. "Hey Stevie," said person after person.

"You look great Steve," a couple of women told me.

"Great catch," I heard from several of the guys.

When I walked in, I noticed that Mo and his guys were already in a corner talking. They saw me and Mo glared at me, then they all started laughing. If he was planning one of his little jokes, he'd have a problem because this wasn't high school. I was in a mood to bust his ass if he got out of line.