Picture of Betrayal

"Yeah," I heard someone yell.

Inside the office was the guy who had grabbed me before. Now I was sure he was the manager. In addition were three cops, and Wexler. Shit-head was sitting in a chair holding an icepack to his cheek. From what I could see, it was already badly swollen and turning purple.

You should have seen the expression on everyone's face when I walked in.

"I just found out he's sleeping with my wife," I announced. "I guess I went a little crazy."

"Is this the man who assaulted you, Sir?" one of the cops asked.

Before the asshole had a chance to answer, the manager chimed in. "Yeah, that's him."

"Mr. Wexler, do you wish to file charges?" asked the same cop. He must have outranked the other two. He seemed to be asking all the questions.

Wexler still hadn't said anything. I think he was wondering how he could keep all this from his wife. I thought I'd put that idea right out of his head. He looked up at me as I started to speak.

"If you're worried about Doris finding out, she already knows," I said, tossing his phone to him.

Instinctively he caught it with his right hand. When he recognized it he bent over in the chair and started to bawl like a baby. If I didn't loath the S.O.B. so much, I could have almost felt sorry for him.

"Mr. Wexler..." the cop started to ask him again.

"No, no," wept asshole shaking his head from side to side. He had his face buried in his hands.

The cop looked up at the manager. "What about you? He created a disturbance in your restaurant. You want to charge him with disturbing the peace?"

I'm pretty sure the manager was on my side because immediately he declined to press any charges.

The cop then turned to me. "Sir, may I see some I.D.?"

I pulled out my wallet, removed my driver's license, and handed it to the man in blue. He took a notepad out of his shirt pocket and copied down my information.

Once he was done he focused his attention on Wexler again. "Sir, I strongly suggest you go to the ER and have that looked at. You should have an X-Ray done. You could have a broken jaw, there."

My nemesis was still crying as he shook his head and mumbled he was okay.

I got a look at the cop's name plate as he turned and handed my license back to me.

"Okay, since nobody's pressing charges you can go for now, but don't go too far. If Mr. Wexler is badly hurt things could change," said officer Dolby.

"Yes Sir," I said taking my license and sticking it back into my wallet.

"Mr. Burke, you seem to have a propensity for violence, how is Mrs. Burke?"

I knew he was just doing his job but officer Dolby was starting to piss me off.

"I don't have a propensity for violence," I responded sharply. "Mrs. Burke is just fine. I would never hit a woman under any circumstances. But if you think I'm such a bad guy, you try coming home to find your wife all dressed up with rubbers in her purse, ready for a date with one of your friends. See how you react."

"Okay," he replied. "I get it, but you're lucky. You could be in a hell of a lot of trouble right now. I'd advise you to calm down and talk to your wife. Maybe things aren't as bad as you think they are."

I chuckled at the cop's attempt at marriage counseling and thanked him with a snicker. As I turned to walk out, the manager spoke up.

"Mr. Burke, I don't want to see you in here again."

"That's fine with me," I snarled back. I was making friends fast, I could tell.

As I walked out to the parking lot I replayed the cop's words in my head. I was pretty lucky, at that. I could very well be on my way to the hoosegows about now. I guess I'm also lucky that guy jumped up and caught asshole before he went down too hard. He could have busted his head open on the floor and I would be in real trouble. Still, I thought, if I had it to do over again I'd do the same damn thing. The mother fucker deserved it.

I got halfway down the row of parked cars before discovering yet another problem. This just wasn't my day...my car was gone!

The first thing that popped into my head was that someone stole it with all my gear inside. Then I remembered my call to Marcy. Shit! She got there faster than I thought she would. I looked around and sure enough, on the other side of the aisle was Marcy's ten year old Chevy. Now what?

I reached for my phone but couldn't do it. I knew how tired she had to be and to call her back and let her know it was all for nothing just didn't seem like a nice thing to do. I looked behind me...no way. I wasn't going back into that damn place even it was to just to call for a cab.

I looked across the street. There, standing six stories tall and coated in green and white paint was another major player in my wife's betrayal...the Country Hills Motel.

I immediately pictured my wife and that son-of-a-bitch of a loser, romping around naked in one of the rooms. I really didn't want to set foot in the place any more than I ever wanted to see the inside of Plato's again.

This was crazy, I told myself. It's irrational. I can't very well hold a building accountable for what goes on inside its walls. I crossed the street and entered through the front door...just the way I suspected my wife and her lover would have done if that stupid assistant hadn't screwed up the shoot.

I walked up to the front desk and was immediately greeted by a young, exceptionally pretty girl. "Yes Sir, may I help you?"

"Yeah, do you have the number of a cab service I could call, please?" I asked.

"Of course; would you like me to dial it for you, Sir?"

Funny how sometimes the slightest little gesture can affect a person's attitude. To her it was the simplest of helpful services that came with her job, for me it was the nicest thing anyone had said to me all day.

A smile actually broke across my lips as I answered her. "That's very kind of you, thank you..." I glanced at her name pin, "Alecta. Wow, pretty name."

"Thank you," she replied as she dialed the phone with a small smile.

The cab dropped me off in my drive. I hit the code on the garage door and checked to make sure my car was there safe and sound. It was.

I had no idea what to expect when I walked into the house. Would Stacy be there or not? Hell, I had no idea what would happen from one moment to the next. I'd never been in a situation like that before; I'd never felt like that before.

That's when reality started to set in. For the past couple of hours I had been functioning on pure adrenaline but suddenly things were starting to hit me. My wife, the woman I loved with all my heart, my friend, my lover, was cheating on me. My knees became weak. I had to sit down on the steps leading into the house before I fell down.

I took some deep breaths and sat there until I got my bearings again. I walked into the kitchen from the laundry room that joins the house and garage. The first thing I did was look for coffee, there was none made. Of course, I thought, she wasn't expecting you home, remember dummy, why would she have made coffee. I was filling the pot with water when I felt a presence. I looked toward the doorway to the living room. "Gwen, what are you doing here? Where's Stacy?" She had obviously gotten the key to our house from my wife.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to walk in on you. I didn't see your car and didn't think you were here. Stacy gave me the key and asked if I'd pick up a few things for her. She's afraid to come home, Shayne. She's scared to death," responded my wife's best friend.

"That's bullshit. I've never raised my hand in anger to her or any other woman. She knows damn well I'd never hit her."

"She's not afraid of you hitting her, Shayne, she's afraid of what you'll say to her."

"Good, that's fine with me. Just keep her at your place until I can pack and get the hell out of here," I growled.

"Shayne, please don't do anything rash. She..."

"Rash, stupid, crazy...everybody's so damned worried, telling me how I shouldn't be reacting to my wife sleeping with another man. Tell me, Gwen, just how am I supposed to act? I'd really like to know because I never thought I'd ever be in this situation...never!"

Gwen lowered her head, walked over to one of the kitchen chairs and sat down. "Can I have a cup when it's done?" she asked.

"Of course," I said as I tossed in the last scoop of grounds and turned the maker on. I walked over and sat in the chair opposite Gwen. Now that most of the excitement was over, depression was starting to set in.

"I don't understand. Three days—I was supposed to be gone three lousy days; she couldn't keep her legs closed for that long? Why? Why would she flush our marriage down the toilet like that? Was I so bad a husband?"

"Shayne she wouldn't be so devastated if you were a bad husband. The reason she called Joe in such a panic wasn't for his benefit, she was worried about you, about what you'd do, how much trouble you could get yourself into. She said she'd never seen anyone so angry."

"Yeah? Well it sure as hell wasn't me she was all dress up for and I'll bet it wasn't me she was thinking about while she was fucking Joe Wexler."

Gwen had nothing to say to that. What could she say?

I sat and just stared at the floor for a few minutes while waiting for the coffee to get done. Then it occurred to me, I could be sitting with a collaborator.

"Gwen did you know about this? Did you know she was having an affair?"

"No Shayne; honestly, I knew nothing about it until today."

I was still suspicious. Hell, my wife lied to me, what makes me think her best friend would tell me the truth.

Gwen could see the skepticism in my face. "You don't believe me, do you?"

"I don't know what to believe anymore, Gwen. Maybe you should leave; just get what you came for and go. I don't feel like company right now anyway."

I know she was a little shocked. Under normal circumstances I'm about the friendliest guy around.

"Shayne, don't let this change who you are. I've never..."

"It's already changed who I am," I barked back. "I haven't punched anyone since the fifth grade until today, and you know what; I enjoyed hitting that bastard."

"You hit him? You hit Joe?"

"You're damn right I hit him. If we'd been alone I would have beaten him to a pulp and loved every minute of it."

"Ar...are you going to get arrested?"

I noted a bit of true concern in her voice. "I don't think so, at least not right now. The cops came but Wexler said he wasn't preferring charges. Who knows, he might change his mind later—I don't know."

"I feel sorry for Doris and their son," she looked me in the eye, "and obviously you too. I don't understand what Stacy was thinking."

"Yeah, well if you ever find out let me know too, will you. I still can't believe this is happening. My whole world was turned upside down today, Gwen, my whole fricking world." I didn't want to talk anymore.

"I'm sorry, Gwen. If you didn't know about Stacy's affair then I apologize, but if I ever find out you knew about it, I swear I'll never speak to you again for as long as I live. Now, please just go for now. I'm sorry, I just want to be alone."

Gwen looked sad as she got up from the chair. "Okay, let me go upstairs and grab some things for her and then I'll go."

With a spit and a gurgle, the coffee pot was completing its job, miraculously turning simply tap water into that magic elixir just as Gwen returned, carrying one of Stacy's small suitcases.

"Shayne, I uh...what do you want me to tell Stacy? Can she come home?"

"No! I don't want to see her, I don't want to talk to her, I don't want to have anything to do with her right now. Keep her at your place, or..."

I couldn't think.

"I don't know--she has a credit card, let her go stay in a motel for a couple of days if you don't want her. Tell her she can come home Friday night."

"You won't be here then, will you?" Gwen asked.

"No, I'll probably move into the back room of the studio temporarily, at least until I can find an apartment."

I walked a glum looking Gwen to the door.

"Look, Gwen, I'm sorry for flying off the handle like that but this has really thrown me for a loop. I love Stacy with everything that's in me. I never ever thought of her doing something like this. It's something I'll never be able to forget, or forgive. Our marriage is over just that quick. Tell her that. Tell her I'll see a lawyer on Monday, will you?"

I could see the sadness in Gwen's face. She had been a good friend.

"I'll tell her, Shayne. I'm sorry," she told me while walking out. "This isn't right. You two love each other. It's just not right," were her last words as she walked to her car.

I felt bad for almost throwing her out of the house. I liked Gwen and her husband, Jerry. I didn't know them as well as Stacy did but we'd gone out together a few times. I really doubted that she knew of my wife's philandering--still, I couldn't be sure and with the mood I was in I didn't want to be around anyone anyway.

I walked back into the kitchen and poured my coffee. I sat at the kitchen table and stared aimlessly out the window, just thinking. I can't even tell you what I was thinking about. Nothing made any sense...why? What the hell could she have been thinking? My mind was a million miles away. It was the growling of my stomach that finally brought me out my stupor.

The only coherent thought I'd had in hours was the realization that I was hungry. With all the turmoil we had trying to find models, earlier in the day, I hadn't had lunch. Hell, I hadn't had anything to eat since meeting the crew at Denny's at six in the morning. Was that really this morning? Did my whole life really turn to shit in less than a day?

I didn't feel like cooking, of course I didn't really feel like going out either. In fact, as hungry as I was, I didn't feel like eating. I was just so damned lost. Well, I had to eat. I looked at my watch and couldn't believe it was almost ten. I must have been sitting at that table for a couple of hours without even realizing it.

There was a little diner not far away that stayed open till midnight. The food was greasy and overpriced but I didn't really care. I just needed something in my stomach.

When I walked in the place was almost deserted. There was a young couple sitting in the booth in front of the window and an elderly guy sitting in the center of the counter. I sat at the end.

An older, heavy set woman approached with a menu and a pot of coffee. Silently, I turned my coffee cup right side up then looked to see what I wanted to eat. It didn't take me long. By the time she was done pouring the coffee I ordered.

While waiting for my food, my mind started to search for my future. Now that I'd gotten a lot of the anger out of my system, the pain and hurt was rushing in to fill the void. I'd be fooling myself if I thought I could stay married to her. I'm sure she knows that as well. I've never been very good at forget and forgiving. Anyone who knows me well knows that about me.

Suddenly I heard a dish clanging in front of me. "Warm it up for you, honey?" my waitress asked as she poured. She broke my concentration and I saw a plate of steak and eggs under my nose.

"Ah, yeah please," but having performed her job flawlessly, she had already made her departure by the time I spoke. I mentally closed the door on my marital problems so I could at least try to enjoy my nocturnal breakfast.

It was almost eleven-thirty by the time I left. After getting up at four in the morning, driving to and from Peoria, and all the physical and mental stress, I should have been absolutely beat but there must have been some adrenalin still pumping through my veins because I was still a little wired. I certainly didn't feel like going home to an empty house.

As I started my car I tried to decide on a destination. When I couldn't I just put it in gear and pressed on the accelerator. I have no idea of my route; all I know is that I found myself in front of my studio at two in the morning. I still had my gear in the car so I carried it all inside before crashing on the daybed I had in the dressing room. By that time I was so exhausted I didn't even remember my head hitting the pillow.

As I slowly started to awake I heard a ringing in my ears. I laid there a minute as the peaceful liberation of slumber gradually gave way to a confused consciousness. I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the foam mattress. I shook the cobwebs out of my brain and finally realized the irritating ringing was my phone.

"Hello," I grumbled. I wasn't fully awake and I must not have sounded like myself. I'm sure that was the reason for the silent pause before I heard a voice.

"Hello? Is this Shayne?"

"Yes, it is. How may I help you?" I answered, looking at the clock on the wall; ten-thirty? That can't be right.

"Shayne, this is Jerry Carlson. Are you aware that Stacy spent the night at our house?"

I was finally getting my bearings. Everything from the day before came rushing back into focus. "Yeah, I told Gwen to have her stay in a motel it you didn't want her there."

"Ah, no, it's...it's not that, I just didn't want to get in the middle of something that was between you and her. I want to make sure it's okay with you if she stays here."

"I appreciate that, Jerry. Yeah, it's fine by me."

"Okay—are ah, are you alright? You sound a little out of it."

"Yeah, I'm okay. I had a long day yesterday and then between all the problems and punching out Wexler..."

"Wexler?" Jerry sounded like he knew nothing about it. "Joe Wexler? You punched him out?"

"Yeah, he's been sleeping with Stacy."

"WHAT?"

"Why do you think she's staying with you?" I asked.

"Gwen said you and Stacy were having problems but she didn't say what they were. Oh, I'm going to have to think about this. I know those two are the best of friends but I'm not comfortable..."

"Jerry," I said, cutting him off, "It's only till tomorrow night. I need a little time to pack up a few things, that's all. I told Gwen to send her home Friday night."

There was silence for a few seconds... "I don't know. I guess it'll be okay but now I'm pissed at Gwen for not telling me."

I heard a big sigh from the other end of the line. "I'll let her stay as long as you're sure it's okay with you."

"Yeah, Jerry, it's fine with me."

"Okay, I'll let her stay till tomorrow night but not a minute more. You know I never really liked Wexler. He always seems a little too smooth for his own good, you know what I mean?"

"Yeah, well I wouldn't leave him along with Gwen, that's for sure."

"Oh, I can guarantee that. Okay, Shayne, I'll let you go. I'm sure you have a lot to do. Thanks for letting me know what's going on. If there's anything I can do..."

"Thanks, Jerry, I really appreciate that. I might ask you to hold Wexler while I pour molten lead down his throat in a little while..."

"Ha, ha," he chuckled. "At least you haven't lost your sense of humor...you are kidding, aren't you?"

I chuckled to myself. "Yeah, I think I am. Don't be too hard on Gwen, they've known each other since—what, the fourth or fifth grade, something like that."

"Yeah, I know. It still irks me though. You take care, Shayne."

And with that he hung up. I sat on the edge on the bed for a few minutes going over what I had to do. I wasn't worried about furniture or stuff like for the time being but there were things I needed. I had to get almost everything in my home office; I had some books I wanted, my computers and printer, and some lightweight camera gear that I kept there for family functions, things like that.

"Huh," I scoffed at myself. I guess I won't be shooting any more of that for a while.

I still didn't feel like eating but I had to get something. Once I started loading everything I didn't want to stop until I was done. I walked down to the Denny's, three blocks from the studio. I had three cups of coffee, a little friendly bantering with the waitress, and a big hamburger. I was just finishing up when my phone rang. It was my assistant, Marcy. I picked it up and said hi.