Picture of Betrayal

"Are you okay? I've been expecting you to call and ask me to come down with bail money. Did you get arrested?"

"No, the guy I hit isn't preferring charges. I'm okay."

"God, Shayne, are you sure they're having an affair? I Just...well, Stacy just doesn't seem the type."

"Oh, I'm sure—no doubt about it. I'm going to move into the back room of the studio for a while so if you go by there at night and see the lights on don't get scared."

"Okay. I'm sorry Shayne. If there's anything I can do..."

"Thanks, Marcy. There's nothing at the moment." We said our good-byes; I paid the tab and headed back to the studio to pick up my SUV.

It took me three trips back and forth between the house and the studio but I finally got everything moved that I wanted. It was a little after eight o'clock by the time I finished. I was getting hungry again so I walked down to the convenient store a few blocks down and got some TV dinners that I could heat up in the microwave.

By the time nine-thirty rolled around I was bored, lonely, and sad...very, very sad. I lay down and wondered why I was so hard wired when it came to forgiving. It wasn't by choice and some people who know me, considered it to be a character flaw.

Stacy got to see it first hand at my tenth high school reunion. As a kid I took on every odd and part time job I could find. For several years I had scrimped and saved every penny I made until I had enough money to buy my first car in my junior year. It was just an old rust-bucket but it ran. Jeanette Walters was the first girl to take a ride in it; after which, we started dating on a regular basis.

After about three months I thought I had the world by the tail. I was doing well academically, I had a bunch of good friends, my own car, and one of the prettiest girls in school as a girlfriend. What more could life hold?

Then one Saturday night I went by to pick her up for our regular date. Her mother answered the door and seemed a little confused. She told me Jeanette had gone out a little earlier with friends. I asked if she was coming back for our date and she answered, she didn't think so. I thought, what the hell? If it was something special okay but the least she could have done was call to let me know. I thought sure she'd call me Sunday to apologize but I didn't hear a word. By Monday I was steaming.

She and I both had study hall just before lunch. We had the option of going to the library instead but I liked to get homework out of the way at school while Jeanette liked going to the library to look at fashion magazines. I hadn't seen her since Friday and couldn't wait any longer to confront her and see what her excuse was.

When I walked into the library, she and Debbie, a girlfriend, were standing at the magazine rack with their backs to the door. They were so busy talking and giggling they didn't see or hear me as I walked up behind them. As it turned out I didn't have to confront her, they were talking about Saturday night.

"So you're moving up, huh, going out with Brad Turner? You lucky girl," Debbie said with a little snicker.

I knew Brad Turner. He was a couple years older than us and had graduated already. I always thought he was kind of a dickhead.

"Yeah, I was supposed to go out with Shayne but I ran into Brad in the mall earlier that day. He works at the Car Boutique. They sell like fancy hubcaps and things. He bought me lunch and asked me out. I mean...would you say no?"

"Of course not," Debbie replied. "Did you guys, ah, you know, did you do it?"

"On the first date! What kind of a girl do you think I am?" was Jeanette's response with feigned innocence. "Actually we did fool around a little. I let him feel me up while I held his you know what."

"You didn't..."

"I did," she confirmed as both girls giggled again.

"Is it bigger than Shayne's?"

"About the same size, actually. Maybe we should have them both strip for us so we can measure them and see who's bigger, huh?"

They both thought that was hysterical.

"Does Shayne know you went out with someone else?"

"Are you kidding...no way."

"What'd you tell him? What excuse did you give him for not going out with him?"

"I couldn't think of any. I thought of telling him I was going out with friends but he knows all my friends. Brad was going to pick me up a half hour before Shayne so I just left. I figured I'd leave my mom to deal with Shayne."

Both girls thought that was amusing.

"Was he mad?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen him since. Mom said he just acted surprised and left. I guess I'll find out at lunch."

"What are you going to tell him?"

"Oh, I've got it all worked out," she bragged. "It took me all day Sunday to come up with a believable lie but I figured it out."

"So are you going to keep going out with Brad?"

"Ah, maybe a couple more times but he's not really Mr. personality. I have a lot more fun with Shayne. He makes me laugh and keeps me entertained. Brad likes to talk about himself too much, you know."

"No, I think you should go out with him from now on," I said, breaking into their conversation. I heard Jeanette say, oh shit, as I walked away. I never said another word to her.

Ten years later she saw Stacy and me at our reunion and tried to talk to me. I simply took my wife by the arm and walked away without saying a word. Stacy couldn't believe my rudeness but I just couldn't help it.

I just don't see what the passage of time has to do with forgiveness. Sure, the pain might subside after a while, but that doesn't mean you forget so why should you forgive?

I believe in treating people the way you want to be treated. I also believe in loyalty—maybe to a fault. Even though I've moved twice, each time further away, I still go to the same barber I had when I was nineteen. I have clients I outgrew years ago but I will not drop them. I wouldn't be where I am today if it wasn't for them and I'm not going to thank them by cutting them off even if it makes good business sense.

I know, when it comes to some things like that, people think I'm too rigid but I guess it's like an unofficial moral code for me. It's the way I am and I wouldn't be true to myself if I tried to change it to suit others.

You would think knowing how I am would have stopped Stacy from cheating on me but obviously it didn't. I felt a couple tears leak from the corner of my eye and run down the side of my face. I'd never been so hurt—not ever. And to think it was someone who professed to love me...of course that's what makes the hurt run so deep, so intense, so fucking real.

I lay there, looking up at the ceiling tiles, wondering why. I would imagine that's what every man in my positions asks himself but it just seemed to come out of the blue—no warning, no nothing. One minute I was a happily married man and the next my marriage was over.

Of course the first thing you think about is the sex. Was she that unsatisfied? She never seemed to be. We both talked about things we liked and didn't like but we'd still experiment. We both liked a little variety as well as spontaneity. Hell, we screwed in every room of the house. Sometimes we made love in the truest sense of the word, other times the sex was playful and fun-loving.

Of course if you read any articles about infidelity they'll tell you women cheat for emotional reasons. I don't know and I guess it really doesn't matter.

I hadn't cried since I was about three but that night I tasted my own tears a couple of times while I lay there torturing myself like that; asking questions that had no answers. I finally dropped off to sleep.

Waking up to the sound of city traffic instead of birds singing is enough to start anybody's day off on the wrong foot. I took a big breath and let it out with a long, despondent sounding sigh as I stood to face the day. I should be in my nice warm bed with my Stacy all wrapped around me. I could just see her staring into my face with a big, broad smile. Damn, how I missed her already.

I heated up a cup of coffee then headed for the shower. I felt a little better after that—not much but a little. I walked down to Denny's and wondered what I was going to do with myself after breakfast. I needed a distraction. I couldn't just sit around the studio all day, I'd drive myself nuts.

I was taking my last sip of coffee when the girl at the motel popped into my head. Don't ask me why, I hadn't thought of her since she called the cab for me but there she was...in my mind's eye. She had a full head of black, lustrous hair, high cheekbones, flawless skin, and the biggest, darkest brown eyes I'd seen in a long time. I remembered her natural smile and friendly personality. I wondered if she'd ever thought of modeling. I wouldn't know if she had what it takes until I got her in front of the camera but I had a feeling.

I finished my coffee, paid the bill, and decided to go down to the motel and see if she was working. I think I had a little more spring in my step when I walked back to the studio. I grabbed my car keys and laptop.

I was pleasantly surprised when I walked into the lobby and saw her behind the desk. Now all I had to do was figure out how to approach her. I'd helped new models get started in the business but I'd never tried talking someone into becoming a model before.

I waited until the guy working the desk with her disappeared for a few minutes then made my move.

"Hi."

"Hello, sir, can I help you?" There was that natural smile again.

"You probably don't remember me..."

"Sure I do—from the other day. Would you like me to call for a cab again?"

"No, no. This time I have a car," I chuckled. "But you were a big help to me that day and I'm hoping I can return the favor." I gave her the business card I had in hand. "My name is Shayne Burke. I'm a commercial photographer. In my job I work with models almost every day and I was wondering if you've ever given any thought to modeling."

"Me?"

"Yeah, I'd have to do some test shots but I'm pretty sure the camera would love you."

"Test shots?"

I could see the skepticism already in her face. I could anticipate the next question before she asked.

"Do I have to take my clothes off?"

One of the downfalls of my profession was an element of sleazebags who used cameras to try and seduce girls. Most of them were guys who didn't know which end of the camera to look through but there were even a few, so called, professionals scattered here and there. I guess every industry has its bad element.

"No, you don't have to take your clothes off," I told her. "Look, I've got my laptop here. I can show you the kind of work I do. Do you get a coffee break? If not maybe we can meet for lunch, my treat."

I could almost see the wheels turning in her brain while she tried to figure out if I was for real or not. Finally I saw her break into a small smile. "Okay, I get lunch at eleven-thirty. There's a restaurant right across the street."

Okay—that put a crimp in things. She was talking about Plato's. "Ah," I stammered a little, "I'm not really welcome there. It's a long story," I said with a chuckle. I was trying to make it sound like it was no big deal. "Is there another place around?"

"Well, there's the Starlight Café around the corner."

"Would that be okay with you?" I asked.

"Yeah, I eat there sometimes."

"Good, the Starlight at eleven-thirty. I'll see you there," I said with smile. As I walked out I was already thinking of an upcoming shoot that she would be perfect for. I had an hour to kill before lunch so I pulled out my phone and started making a few calls. My first was to Monique. Even though she was relatively new in the business, she was one of the best make-up artists I'd worked with in a long time. After the greetings I told her why I was calling.

"Monique, would you be interested in doing a little TFP work?"

"Possibly," she answered, "what have you got?"

"A new star or at least I think so. She's never modeled before but I think she's a natural."

"What's her skin like?"

"She's a little dark complexioned. I think she might be Greek; black hair and dark eyes. You know that jewelry shot coming up next month where they want that sultry look—she'd be perfect."

"When do you want to do this?"

"Ah, I don't know yet. I'm not even sure she wants to try modeling, yet. I'm going to talk to her in about an hour."

"Well, I'm interested. Let me know if it's a go."

"Will do, Monique, and thanks."

My next call was Donna. She's a hair stylist. I use her a lot. I'm probably her best client. I was pretty sure she'd be in and I was right. Marcy would round out my crew. Now all I needed was to interest my potential model.

I got tired of waiting in the parking lot so I went in and ordered coffee while I waited. When she walked in she had someone with her. As they approached I saw he had a name pin that showed he was an employee of the motel's. I was beginning to think I was wasting my time.

"Hi, Mr. Burke, I hope you don't mind, I brought a friend with me," she said as they both sat down. "Oh, don't worry though, Tony will pay for his own lunch."

I had already told my waitress I was expecting someone else so she was over in a flash when she saw them sit down. I was a little miffed and was going to let her friend pay for his own but by the time we ordered I'd decided she was just being careful. I guess I couldn't fault her for that so I told the waitress to put them all on one check.

As soon as our waitress walked away Tony spoke up before I even had a chance to open my mouth.

"How do we know you are who you say you are?" he asked rather aggressively. "Anybody can have business cards made up. Do you have any references, anyone we can talk to?"

Bringing someone with I understood, but trying to put me on the defensive when all I was trying to do is give her an opportunity—that was going over the line; besides, I really wasn't in the mood for this pimply faced dickhead. I decided it was going to be more trouble than it was worth. "Okay, this clearly isn't going to work." I stood up, took thirty bucks and threw it on the table before grabbing my laptop. "You two have lunch on me," I said, then walked out. I had just gotten back to the studio when my phone rang. I looked and saw it was Marcy.

"Hi, boss, how are you doing?"

"Huh," I snickered, "I've been better."

"Are you in the office?"

"Yeah, I went out for a little while but I'm back. I'll probably go to Denny's for some lunch."

"You want me to come in?"

"Nah, there's nothing to do."

"Well, I can come and keep you company. Maybe we can plan some upcoming shoots or something."

"Thanks Marcy, I really appreciate the offer but I'm okay. You enjoy the long weekend and I'll see you Monday morning."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. I don't want you to think about this place until I see you then."

She thanked me again and we said our goodbyes. I hiked down to Denny's for the lunch I didn't have earlier. By the time I got back it was about two-thirty. I was so lost. I had no idea what to do with myself. I lay down in the back room and cursed that stupid executive's assistant again. If it wasn't for him none of this would have happened. I'd be doing what I enjoyed and been completely oblivious to my wife's infidelity.

I thought about just trying to take nap to kill some time but I couldn't sleep. My mind was too busy rerunning through everything that had happened. I finally got up and sat down at the computer. Maybe I could experiment with some different processing techniques to get my mind off of things for a while.

It was almost five when I gave up. I was thinking about going to a show when I heard somebody knocking on the front door. I walked into the outer office and looked out the window. It was Alecta, and she was alone. I opened the door and let her in.

"Hi," she said a little sheepishly. "I'm glad I caught you before you left. I wanted to apologize for Tony. He was just trying to protect me."

"You came all the way down here to apologize?"

"Yeah, I felt bad when you left. I thought about calling you but I wanted to say I was sorry in person."

I was impressed. I didn't know where she lived but I was a good forty-five minutes from the motel—probably more during rush hour. "I appreciate that," I told her. "Well, as long as you're here let me show you around."

I took her for the twenty-five cent grand tour then brought her back to the office and gave her some coffee while she looked at my website and some of the stuff in my portfolio. She was impressed and getting excited but was also still just a little uncertain.

"Do I have to sign any contracts or anything like that?"

"No, no contracts. The only thing I'll need you to sign is a model release. That gives me and the client permission to use your image. If you start modeling on a regular basis you'll be signing a lot of them.

She thought about what I said for just a few seconds. "So you want to do some pictures?" she asked enthusiastically.

"Not tonight," I replied. I could see the disappointment in her face. "You need a hair stylist, make-up artist, and something else to wear besides that green uniform."

Just that quick she was completely deflated. "H...how much is all that going to cost me?" As quick as her enthusiasm had vanished, it reappeared when I answered.

"Nothing; it's not going to cost you anything. I'm offering you an opportunity to make money, not spend it. I already have the make-up artist and hair stylist lined up. You will have to sign a model release like I said. That's how you're going to pay them. They get to use the pictures we take for their own promotion. Is that agreeable to you?"

"Yes, of course."

"Okay then, let's get something scheduled."

I had her write down her work schedule then called Monique and Donna while she was still there. We all agreed that Sunday afternoon would be convenient and blocked out time for a four hour shoot. I instructed Alecta to bring a variety of different clothes including some kind of evening wear if she had it, and not wear make-up when she came. My own make-up artist would take care of that. We sat and talked for a little while after that and she must have thanked me twenty or thirty times. It was after eight by the time she left.

I still had to see if Marcy was available on Sunday but if she wasn't it was no big deal. I didn't really need her for a shoot like that; I just didn't want her to feel slighted so I called. She readily agreed to be there.

That little distraction was just what I needed. For the first time in two days, I went for three whole hours without thinking of Stacy once and now I had something else to keep myself occupied; I had to plan out Alecta's shoot. I sat down and started jotting down some ideas, the next thing I knew it was midnight. I hated the thought of going to bed because I knew it meant more pain as I lay there, thinking again.

God, I missed her so much. I wondered what she was doing. Was she sleeping? Had she moved back into the house yet? Did she regret what she did? I was sure she did. I pictured her crying and my heart went out to her. I couldn't help it. This was torture, absolute torture because I knew no matter how much I still loved her, we were through. There was simply no way I could spend the rest of my life being uncertain of my wife's fidelity...no way.

Somehow I slipped into unconsciousness because the next thing I knew I heard the damnable sounds of morning traffic again.

Breakfast at Denny's was becoming a habit. About halfway through my grand-slam, my phone rang. It was Jerry Carlson again. I wasn't going to talk in the restaurant and I hate cold pancakes so I let it go. It dinged a few seconds later indicating he'd left a text. I checked it as I walked back to the studio.