Castaway Ch. 02

I slowly got up, went into Shawn's kitchen, and started the coffee brewing. I walked my naked ass into his bathroom, and got in the shower. The hot water, and steam building up in the bathroom, started to make me feel like a human being again. I just stood. The water running over my head, down my back, felt good. The hot water was almost burning my flesh, after I turned it up even more. Finally feeling better, I shut it off, stepped out and dried off.

Today was a new day. I would find some ibuprofen, some of that coffee that I brewed, and figure out what I was going to do with the rest of my life. Also, I really had to figure out how I was going to get even with my ex-business partner, along with my wayward wife. Reflecting on the situation, and stepping out of my own shoes for a minute, I could see that she wasn't in some long-term love affair with that asshole, but it still hurt the same regardless.

I sat at his table in the kitchen, sipping the coffee. Shawn came out, looked about as bad as I still felt on the inside, and sat down across from me. "Dude, we should NOT be allowed to drink Tequila together," he observed.

"Shawn, I would agree with you, but I don't remember much about what we did or didn't have. I have vague memories of doing Tequila shots off some bar slut's belly button, you had one of those flaming shots, and I think I was double-fisting Jello shots and Rum & Cokes. Dude what DIDN'T we drink last night?"

"All in the name of 'therapy'," he said, using his fingers for air quotes around therapy. He then put his head into his hands, resting his elbows on the table. "UGH, I feel like shit."

"You look like death warmed over, and I feel like it," I added.

So, the two of us commiserated over our own stupidity for a bit, and then he stood up. We one-arm hugged, and knew that he was right, about the therapy part, that is. I was on the verge of tears again, but held it in. Mostly held it in because I think I was so dehydrated that my body just couldn't afford to waste any of the precious water I had left on useless tears. That was my excuse anyhow, sounds manly enough.

He stepped back, announced, "I'm gonna go shower, then you and I are gonna sit and discuss your next moves."

I just nodded. He walked off to his bathroom, and basically repeated the process that I had, steam and all. I got another cup of coffee, and found some ibuprofen, taking like four of those suckers. The coffee was still pretty hot, but I drank it fast anyhow. My gums and roof of my mouth were a bit tender, but I didn't care. It seemed to be proof that I was still alive, anyhow.

While I sat listening to the sounds of his shower running, I looked back on the last few days, and even as far back as the last few years. We had a good marriage, didn't we? How did she get fooled SO quickly, by that arrogant asshole that I used to call a partner? When we had talked about our marriage, and cheating, we both agreed that it was something that we would never do to each other. I had always thought we had a good, open line of communication between the two of us. I would have thought...no, expected her to come to me, and at least demand an explanation, before just throwing her wedding vows down the toilet and letting some snake get his cock in her.

I thought about that night at the restaurant, the good times we had as a family over the last few weeks. How could something so good, end so fast? How would my little girl handle this? How am I going to handle this? How are any humans supposed to live through betrayal like this?

OK, WAY too much of this self-reflection shit going on. I mentally put my foot down. Drew the line in the sand. THIS was going to be the end of my self-imposed pity party. It was time to live up to an old adage that my grandpa used to always tell me when I was little, 'When things get tough, just put one foot in front of the other. Eventually when you look up, you will be farther ahead than you think.'

Looking at Shawn's desk, sitting in the living room, I found what I was looking for. I got a pad of paper, and a pen. I needed some lists, somewhere to start from. Page one, a list of things I needed to do going forward. Page 2, list of things to help accomplish page one.

Page One - Priorities:

1. Find way to fuck Cyrus over hard!

2. Deal with Caitlin, burn her or just walk away?

3. Sell off everything to do with Rapid Relief Logistics.

4. Move, but to where?

5. Keep in contact with Maddy!

6. Pay Shawn back, for everything.

Page Two - Things needed for page one stuff:

1. Divorce Lawyer

2. Business Lawyer

3. Burner Cell phones - Three? Four?

4. Find place to live

Hey, it was a small pad. I would have put them all on one page if it were larger. Yeah sure, because I care so much about the trees, right? Damn, I was even starting to critique myself, and am now holding a conversation inside my own head. FUCK! My list looked pretty pathetic after reviewing it, but it was a start. What I needed was a plan to go with this list of stuff. This might be a little tricky. I mean, come on, I am not exactly James Bond or anything. I don't have any ninja's or super spies at my disposal. I would need more information, and go from there.

Shawn re-emerged from his bedroom, after getting dressed for the day. We both finished another cup of coffee, mostly in silence. Honestly, it was just plain awkward. I finally had enough.

"Shawn, I might need your help with some rough ideas that I have come up with, to move forward." I slid the pad over to him.

He read the items over, nodding his head a few times, before sliding it back over to me. "You are going to need some help for sure. I can help with most, but there isn't much I can do about Cyrus. I won't go back to jail. Sorry, but I kept that a secret from you when you hired me. Most people don't like the idea of an ex-con working for them, regardless of the job. Sorry that I didn't tell you before..."

"Shawn, don't sweat it man. I trust you completely, or else I wouldn't have hired you. Being an ex-con wouldn't have mattered, anyhow. Although, someday, I may ask you about why you were in," I said with a small grin.

"OK man, and thanks. So for this list of yours, you got any plans yet? For starters, you need to figure out where you are going to live. You can crash here for a little while, but you will need to find a more permanent place to stay, eventually.

"Second, I know the number for a really good divorce attorney, the one I used against Paula, my ex. Her name is Sandra Collins, and she is a really tough negotiator. She won't let you get screwed, if possible. As for corporate law and stuff, I am not as sure, but maybe Sandra could recommend someone.

"Lastly, you should call that P.I. that I told you about. He might be able to dig up the information you need, to get some justice."

I just shook my head. How had it come to this? "Ok, I think once I get some legal stuff sorted, I will leave town for a while. I still don't know where I am going to move to, but for now I just have to clear my head. I might use up what's left of that trip that we were supposed to take." I slammed my fist on the table. "DAMN IT!"

Shawn sat quiet for a minute, to let my anger dissipate some. "Ok, James, well just let me know what you plan to do man. Also, I hate to bring this up, but am I going to have to hunt for a new job?" he asked with a slight grin.

I grinned back, mostly to try to lighten the mood. "Probably, but wherever I go I'll let you know if I need a good mechanic. I'm not done flying. Aside from my daughter, it's the only other love I have left."

"That's fair, thanks."

"Ok, first order of business. I need to make some calls. I might be a while, so will take them out on the patio, OK?"

"Sure thing man," replied Shawn.

I walked to his sliding door that led to the apartment's small patio overlooking a river, opened it, and went out on the balcony. At least his place had a nice view. I slid the door shut, and pulled out my phone. I didn't really want to make any of these calls, but I had to get them over with. Question is who to call first?

I decided to call the lawyer that Shawn recommended, Sandra Collins. When I called her, her assistant picked up after the second ring. After a brief conversation, I had an appointment to go see her later, at one in the afternoon.

My second call was to Curt Simpson, the P.I. that Shawn had recommended. It was a short conversation, setting up an appointment to see him at eleven. He sounded gruff, and definitely didn't stay on the phone any longer than was absolutely necessary.

After making those calls, I told Shawn I had to go take care of some things. I went to a local Walmart, and picked up some of the things I would need. I was going to try not to give myself any time to sit and think today. It still felt like I had been broadsided. Like those commercials of a car getting hit in the side, and the crash-test dummies are banging around inside with glass flying. That was how I felt my life was going. And I was still in that car.

Among the items I got, were a couple of pre-paid phones that I only intended to use, at maximum, twice per phone. I really didn't want anyone to find me. I also got a few things needed for extended traveling, and a few new articles of lighter clothing. If I was going to do as I suggested to Shawn, I would need a lot of shorts and light shirts.

After getting all my supplies loaded in the car, I got in and started it up. I sat in the parking lot for a few minutes, before my stomach reminded me that I hadn't had anything real to eat for almost a day now, unless you count bar snacks. Honestly I didn't feel like eating, but knew I had to try to get something down. I figured that a quick sandwich would be good enough. I drove around the Walmart to a drive-thru fast food place, but by the time I got to the ordering sign, I still didn't feel hungry. I ordered a hamburger, and small drink. I must look like hell, because even the gal at the window gave me a sad look, when I paid.

I drove for a bit, just slowly circling the city I had called home for so long. Some places looked new, some very old. I remembered taking Caitlin to that park, and sitting with her on that bench. I just shook my head. I passed an old theater that had been closed for years, remembering taking Caitlin there back when we were dating. By this time my hamburger was cold, but at least I was drinking some of the soft-drink.

Somehow I managed to keep the car from hitting anything, and parked in the lot at the investigator's office. His office was small, and had two desks. There was a pretty younger woman, sitting behind one, typing away on a computer. A few feet behind hers, sat his desk. He was standing behind it, sipping a mug of coffee. He looked as gruff as his voice sounded over the phone. He was a mid-height, slightly balding guy, and had a five o'clock shadow that looks like it had been left unshaved for about three additional days. His build suggested that he didn't miss much time at the gym.

"Mr. Holmes, Curt Simpson. Come on over here and tell me what you want." I was glad that he didn't seem to like wasting time.

By now, I was in a foul mood, and didn't feel like mincing words. "I need to find some dirt on my business partner. He screwed with me, and I want to skewer him."

"Ok, I can get started today. You are in luck, I finished up my last big case on Friday, and a few others are in holding patterns. My fees are simple. I charge by the hour I work your case, and will bill you daily as needed to get you the information you need. Write down what information you have on the guy you want me to investigate, and I will get started. Dani over there will get you sorted out with all my paperwork, a contract and such."

I sat and wrote down what I knew about Cyrus. His car, his downtown loft address, and as much as I knew about his family. Oddly, I had never thought about it, but he never really talked about hanging out with any other friends, aside from me. I wrote that down too, just in case it would help. Done, I moved over to the woman's desk and she looked up at me.

"Hi, I'm Dani. Here are some forms to fill out, and the general contract for services. Fill in the top page, and sign and initial where it's marked."

She got back to whatever she was typing up on the computer, while I filled out the paperwork. Whatever else could be said, this office was run efficiently, it seemed. Once filled out, I handed her the paperwork. She took the contract, walked to a copier, and made a few copies. She came back to her desk, handed me one copy, and stacked the rest on the side of her computer.

"Thank you, Mr. Holmes. Mr. Simpson will contact you when he has some information to pass along. We will consider the contract complete when you are satisfied with the information delivered, and will bill accordingly."

I thanked her, and left the office. It was bright out, and I had to shield my eyes, to allow them to adjust to the light. I got in my car, and drove to the lawyer's office. My appointment was at one, and I was at least an hour early. With nothing better to do, I guessed I should check all my phone messages. It had been buzzing every hour or so, getting ignored. Scrolling through the missed calls, I could see that Cait had tried to call a couple times, as well as her parents and one from Maddy. I had one missed from a D.C. number, so I guessed that might be that suit from FEMA trying to get a hold of me. Yeah... he was definitely one of the last people I would be getting back to. Actually, now that I thought about it, he might have some information on Cyrus's activities, especially since the ladies that had come with him had messed things up for me on the phone. I would call the investigator and let him know to check up on the FEMA guy.

I listened to the first few from my wife, and it was a lot of crying and apologizing. She needs me, she loves me...I stopped listening after the third message. Fuck her, let her stew in the shit that she allowed.

The one message her mom left was puzzling. She must not have told her folks the whole truth, because her mom was optimistic that we could work through whatever the problem was that caused our 'fight'.

My daughter just left a message saying that she wanted me to come home, and that she loved me. God bless her. She would be collateral damage from all this, and it really wasn't fair to her. I called her, and told her I would try to make it up to her, eventually. I ended the call telling her that I loved her, and would see her soon. I didn't want to stay on too long right now, as I didn't trust myself not to get too emotional right then.

I listened to the message from the FEMA guy, but it was basically just him confirming the agreements made on Saturday. As his message concluded, I really had to wonder if he was in on the scheme that Cyrus seemed to have running. That night with those ladies, seemed seriously suspicious, now that I looked back on it. The whole thing was just bizarre, and all a little too coincidental for my liking. Caitlin had called, checking up on me, and the one woman had just happened to ask me about partying at the same time. I wonder if Cyrus was sitting next to her, goading her to call and check up on me.

After deleting all the voice messages, I checked my text messages.

I had dozens, but the last one came from my wife, about ten minutes after I had spoken with my daughter. It was sad but simple:

I am so sorry for everything.

I am so ashamed.

I love you with all my heart, always will.

Cait

Well, at least she knew she fucked up. I still wasn't sure what to do about everything, but decided to go in to see the lawyer and find out my options, at least. I walked into the lobby, and the receptionist said to have a seat. Mrs. Collins would be right out to see me. I only had to wait about two minutes before a short, stocky, raven haired woman came out to meet me. She couldn't have been more than about 5' 2", but looked to be about two hundred pounds. Not saying this to be mean, just pointing out that she was a heavy woman. She also looked like she could eat nails, and spit them back out without breaking any teeth. This was definitely the right lawyer to help me out. In short, her look said 'don't fuck with me'.

After shaking my hand, Mrs. Collins led me through some doors back to her office, and closed the door behind me. We both sat down, and she began the conversation.

"So what exactly can I do for you, Mr. Holmes?"

"Two things, I need to talk to an attorney about selling off or dissolving my business partnership, and second I need to discuss my options for divorcing my wife. I caught her cheating on me, with my partner. Her flimsy excuse was that I cheated on her first, but I have never been unfaithful to my wife. Oh, he also shot me with a small pistol, when I did catch them. Thankfully for me, the bullet hit a medallion, so it only caused a bruise on my chest."

"Holy shit, really? Didn't you call the police? Did you get checked out at the hospital or at least an EMT? The more witnesses we have to any act of violence that is related to the adultery, will help your case."

"No, I passed out and my buddy took me to his place. Would it help to call them now?"

"Probably not much, but you could go to the station to file a report. They would probably investigate your partner for possible charges. The only problem is evidence at this point. They may not do anything if the gun is gone and there is no evidence at the scene of the crime. I can forward a generic request on to one of our criminal associates, to see if they advise differently, OK?"

"Yeah, that sounds fine to me. So what can I do about my wife?"

"Well, do you know how long the affair has been going on?"

"Honestly no, but I think the time I walked in on them, was the only time."

"Did you take any pictures? Do you have any proof, other than just seeing it for yourself?"

"No, when I walked in, I was shocked and didn't take any. I did just hire a P.I., Mr. Curt Simpson, to dig up what he can, about my business partner. I could have him check up on my wife, but what if he doesn't find anything?"

"I know Curt. He is pretty good at what he does. Well if he can't find anything about their affair, it becomes your word against hers, unless she confesses. Have you talked to her since you walked in on her?" I simply shook my head no. "I have seen a lot of divorce cases Mr. Holmes, and I can tell you that there are several options available to you. Some are clean and easy, most are pretty tough, but a few get so knockdown, drag-out dirty, that they can last a year or two. Are there any children involved?"

"Well, we have a daughter, but she is already over eighteen and in college."

"Well, at least there's that. No worry about any custody battles, or child support payments to negotiate."

The expression on my face must have spoken volumes, because she simply nodded and went on. "Yes, it could take a very long time, depending on all the circumstances. What is it that you really want here, Mr. Holmes?"

"I need to know what my options are. For right now, just assume that I intend to divorce her."

"So you don't think you have any chance at forgiveness, or reconciling with her? I'm sorry to ask, just want to understand how best to represent you."

That was a good question. One that I was not ready to answer.

"I really don't know, but right now I don't want to be around her. I am afraid I might do something that I would regret later. I do have some pictures that were given to me, as supposed proof of my infidelity...but as you can see in them, it's not true."