Picture of Betrayal

When I woke up Friday morning from a night of tossing and turning, I had once again come to the same conclusion, there was just no way Stacy and I would ever be able to recapture what we once had. Of course we could make the effort--maybe try counseling but I knew damn well it wouldn't work. I'm not the same person I was before discovering her infidelity. I can't restore the trust of the naive husband I once was. There would always be an element of doubt and suspicion.

I didn't think Stacy was the same either. Even if she did everything she could to try and make it up to me I was sure she'd always carry around some guilt.

That's not a marriage—at least not one that would sustain. No, as much as I hated to face it...we were through.

I grabbed some coffee and popped a frozen breakfast in the microwave then prepared for the day. We had one, in studio, fashion shoot for Feminine Classics. There was no time to reschedule the shoot in Peoria after the prior week's debacle so they settled for a studio shoot. I wished we had been busier to keep my mind off of what I had to do. We finished shooting about two. Marcy noticed my mood.

"You've been awful quiet today," she observed. "Thinking about Stacy?"

"Yeah," I answered with a sigh. "I'm going to give her the divorce papers tonight and I'm just not looking forward to it."

"Look, we don't have any more jobs for today. Why don't we close the place up for a while and go out for a late lunch; someplace other than Denny's, someplace nice."

It sounded like a good idea to me. In all the years I'd been in business I'd never taken a two hour lunch unless it was with a client or business related. Marcy and I talked on a dozen different subjects...even a little politics; everything but my marital problems. I felt a little better by the time we got back. Good enough to call Jerry Carlson, something I'd been putting off.

He said Stacy was talking about going back to the house but they talked her into staying with them another week. I told him I wanted to stop by after work and I told him why. I asked if he and Gwen wouldn't mind giving us a little privacy while I was there. He agreed.

It was almost seven when I rang their bell. Jerry answered the door. "Have you eaten? We just finished. Stacy and Gwen are still in the kitchen cleaning up but I'm sure we could find some left-overs if you're hungry."

"I really appreciate the offer, Jerry, but I've got to get this over with," I sadly replied.

He looked at the letter size manila envelope in my hand and slowly nodded his head with understanding. "Gwen," he called out, "Shayne is here to see Stacy. Let's give them some privacy."

A few seconds later I saw Gwen approaching. When she saw me she closed her eyes and gave a quick shake of her head. Without saying a word she climbed the stars with Jerry right behind her.

I walked around the corner and saw Stacy through the kitchen doorway. She looked like a zombie sitting at the table, staring into space. As long as I live I'll never forget her face when she saw me walking toward her and looked down at the envelope. She stiffened with fear. It was as if I was death himself coming to claim her soul.

I sat down across the table from her. Stacy stared mindlessly at the laminated wooden surface. Her eyes slowly looked up when I said her name.

"I'm sorry," she said in a weak, grief strained voice.

"I know," I replied, "but it doesn't help."

"I know," she said, repeating my words back to me.

"I had Brite Newcomb draw up the paperwork," I told her. "I'm giving you the house, your car, and half of the savings."

"Why?"

"Because I want a hundred percent of the business; I figure things are pretty even that way," I explained.

"I really am sorry, Shayne," she said again, this time with tears dropping from her lower lid. "I...I don't know what possessed me to do what I did but I never intended on hurting you."

For just the briefest moment I thought of hurting her back. If we had talked during the prior week I'm pretty sure I would have verbally gone for the jugular, but it had been more than a week ago. I'd had time to calm down and think. It wasn't hard to see how badly she was suffering. I really didn't need to pile it on.

"I know you didn't, Stacy. Jerry told me it was a way for you to put some excitement in your life. I just wish you had talked to me if you were unhappy. I'm sure we could have found something—some other way to make things more interesting for you."

I could feel myself starting to lose it emotionally. I set the envelope on the table and stood up. "Look'em over, Stacy. If you don't think it's equitable let me know."

She tried to muffle a sob but wasn't quite successful. "This was all my fault, Shayne. I don't deserve all that."

"Well, look'em over anyway." I started to walk away but stopped and slowly turned around. I had to tell her. "I...I want you to know...I will always love you Stacy. They say there's a thin line between love and hate. Last week I hated you, at least for a little while. I think I still hate you a little now and then, but I will always love you." With that I made a hasty exit, stopping only long enough to yell up to the second floor and thank Gwen and Jerry. About a mile from their house I had to pull off the road for a few minutes while I wiped the blurriness from my eyes.

I'm not much of a drinker. I'll have a beer or two while socializing or with a business dinner but that's usually about it. I never drank alone...except for that night. I parked the car at the studio then walked the six blocks to a bar I'd passed a thousand times but had never been in. I sat in the most secluded, darkest corner I could find and nursed my way through four beers. It was sometime after one in the morning by the time I found my way back to my bed. Thankfully I was out cold as soon as my head hit the pillow. The last thought I remember was wondering how Stacy was doing.

Saturday I went apartment shopping. I was getting tired living in the back room. I was hoping to get something close to the studio—maybe within walking distance. I found a nice, two bedroom apartment with a stone patio on North La Salle and put a deposit down on it pending a credit check. Its biggest draw was the underground parking for tenants. In Chicago that could be a life saver in the winter.

Thank God for Sunday. I had been in a blue mood since Friday night but there was never better medicine for me than work. Alecta came over about eleven and we worked together till after three. It was just she and I. I wasn't looking to get great shots. It was a training session. I showed her how to flow from one pose to another then wait for the flash before moving again. I showed her how to be aware of the lighting, how to recognize the type of lighting the photographer was using and how to move within its restrictions.

We discussed the lighting I would be using for her shoot and showed her how to move so she didn't throw shadows on the other model. I taught her some terminology that photographers use to convey what they're looking for and I gave her a few tips on what assignments to jump at and which ones to stay away from.

By the end of the day I was more confident than ever that Alecta was going to do very well in the modeling industry. If she worked at it and didn't screw it up like so many potential models do, I had no doubt she would be bound for New York and Paris before too long. I wanted two more sessions with her before our shoot so we scheduled the next one in two weeks. I was sorry to see her go because I hadn't thought of Stacy or my divorce once since she'd arrived.

Monday was about as mundane as a day can be until the phone rang that afternoon...twice, actually. The first time was the lady from the apartment building. My credit was Okayed and I could move in as early as the next day.

The second call was Jerry wanting to meet after work. We met at the same Starbucks as before. He had my manila envelope in his hand. "She asked me to look them over instead of a lawyer. I told her everything looked good as far as I could tell so she signed them," he informed me. "There's nothing in there that I didn't catch is there? I mean no tricks or anything?"

"Jerry, you know me better than that," I said, a little insulted.

"I know, I'm sorry; I'm just not used to reading all that legal mumbo-jumbo," he said while handing me the envelope.

I couldn't help but ask. "How's she doing?"

"Ah, she'll be alright. I think the anticipation was harder on her than anything. Now that you actually served her with papers I think she's finally accepted her fate—not that she wouldn't jump into your arms if you told her all was forgiven."

"Yeah, well that's not going to happen. Serving those papers I think was probably the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my life, but it had to be done. You know, until all this, I never realized you could hate someone and love them at the same time."

"I know. I'll tell you, all this got me thinking about Gwen and me. I...I honestly don't know what I'd do in your shoes. I'd like to think I was man enough to do exactly what you're doing but I just don't know."

Jerry took a swig of black gold and continued. "I'll tell you this, it sure cured me of any thoughts of cheating; not that I was thinking about it anyway...I just mean, well, seeing how it's affected you guys really kind of brings it home, you know. Gwen too. We were talking last night before we went to sleep and kind of renewed our vows right there."

It was almost hurtful to hear what a great relationship Gwen and Jerry had. Silently I wished it could have been Stacy and me.

"Did I tell you Gwen ran into Doris Wexler?"

"No, she have anything to say?"

"She didn't say much after Gwen mentioned that Stacy was staying with us. She gave Gwen the cold shoulder and walked away from her."

"You're kidding; well, actually I guess I can see where she'd be pissed."

"Yeah," he confirmed as he took another swallow of Starbuck's. "Have you heard anything from our group?"

I knew he meant our group of friends. We actually had quite a few in common. "Not a word," I replied.

"I'm surprised. You have a lot of sympathy out there. Of course a few of the women think you're being a real hard ass and should give Stacy another chance but the men are all with you."

"Jesus, does the whole town know about my marital problems?"

"Probably; Doris has been telling everyone about her no-account husband and the slut who broke up her happy home."

"Oh. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. I take it then she's going to divorce him?"

"Oh yeah; she's already filed and she's out for blood. Joe will be lucky if he has a pair of jockey shorts left after she gets done with him," he scoffed.

"Well, I have to get home," he said, taking his last bit of coffee in one big gulp. "I think Stacy will be going back to the house either Wednesday or Thursday. Don't worry," he said after seeing the look of concern on my face. "We'll still keep an eye on her."

I thanked him and told him to convey my thanks to Gwen as well. Well, that was it. I'd give the signed divorce papers to Brite, he'd file them and in six months we'd be divorced. Once again, I had mixed emotions. It was the end of my marriage, the end of Stacy and me. I thought we'd be together until our dying days and the thought of a future without her was depressing. At the same time I felt relief. It was over and I could move on with my life.

Tuesday morning was the dawn of a new era...although it didn't start as anything special. It started like every other morning, with my alarm going off. I had several shoots that week; nothing big but enough to keep me busy.

In spite of having an apartment, I was still sleeping in the back room. I had no furniture; no bed, no table, no chairs...no nothing. Every day I planned on going out shopping after work but I was always too tired. If I was honest with myself, I wasn't all that busy. I knew a part of my fatigue was due to some mild depression.

I made up my mind I would be living in my apartment by that Sunday, even if I had to sleep and eat on the floor. I was a determined man on Saturday. I bought a bed, table and chairs, and one recliner. I got my computer desk and other office furniture out of storage and set that up in the second bedroom.

I managed to get everything delivered and set up by Sunday evening. I also stocked the fridge and cooked a dinner for myself, after which I made some coffee and sat in my new La-Z-Boy. I looked around at the surrounding walls. It was so quiet—so lonely.

That was pretty much my existence for the following couple of weeks; work...go home to an empty apartment. I did manage to buy a few more things, a TV, some stereo equipment, the essentials. The highlight of things I did during that time was when I worked with Alecta. Sometimes at night I'd find myself fantasizing about her. It was just that though, fantasy. She had become very focused on a modeling career, and as hypocritical as it sounds, I could never marry a model. Models do a lot of traveling and are hit on constantly, a lot of times by very rich men who want to be seen with them. No, especially in view of the way my first marriage ended, I could never marry a model.

The night of Sterling's shoot had arrived. Old man Sterling's kid, Phil, who was VP in charge of marketing, was there along with Chaz. Marcy brought Aaron, her boyfriend, to help with the gear. Between three security guards, two make-up artists and a hair stylist, we were a crew of thirteen.

Planning is crucial in a large production shoot like that. We shot for another hour after sunrise but the streets were already starting to fill up so we had to call it a wrap. I was more than pleased with what we got, so was the client.

Phil Sterling had been hitting on Alecta all night. I really hated to see that. He was twenty years her senior and married. I got her off to the side as we were packing up and warned her about Sterling. She said she had to put up with the same thing at the hotel. She got offers all the time to 'show someone to their room, personally.' She told me not to worry; she was well versed at how to decline men's advances, diplomatically.

Over the next month I used Alecta every chance I had. She was already making more in a week than she was making in a month at the motel. She was still reluctant to give them her notice but the conflict in scheduling forced her hand. It got down to either modeling or the Country Hills Motel. She made the wise choice.

Things were starting to fall into place. Business was good and my apartment was fully furnished. I'd heard from Gwen that Stacy was back at the house and coping. A few of our friends had gone over to visit her and one had lined her up with a secretarial job.

I was going over some images one afternoon when the phone rang. "Marcy," I called out, "can you get that please?"

A minute later she came into the back looking a little startled. "It's Victor Sikorski."

I must have had the same startled expression as my head swiveled around in her direction. Victor Sikorski was Chicago's premier photographer. He was world famous and shot for Vogue, Mademoiselle, and Elle among many others. He was also responsible for launching the careers of some of the top super models in the industry.

"Did he say what he wants?"

"No, he just wants to talk to you," she replied.

For the life of me, I couldn't think of anything I could do for Victor Sikorski but I jumped up and answered the call. "Hello."

"Shayne, this is Victor Sikorski, how are you?"

"Ah...good, Victory, and you?"

"Seventy-three and still feeling like a kid," he joked. "Listen, I won't use up your time but I was interested in using a girl for a shoot. She's not listed with any of the agencies so I asked around and everyone told me to check with you. She's a brunette with dark eyes..."

"Alecta," I said, cutting him off. "Yeah, I've been using her a lot."

"Alecta--great name. Do you think she'd be available for a fashion shoot next week?"

"I can almost guarantee it, Victor. Can I give her your number and have her call you?"

"By all means, I'd appreciate it. Let me give you another number in case she can't get me in the studio."

Victor gave me his cell number and asked that I made sure I told her to call by the following evening. He had to get someone booked and he wouldn't be able to wait too long. Marcy was standing next to me the whole time I was talking to him.

"He wants to use Alecta?" she asked as soon as I hung up.

"Yeah," I said, maybe sounding a little less enthused than I should have.

"Don't you want her to do it?"

"Yeah, of course I want her to do it...it's just...well, I was hoping to be able to use her a little more, that's all." As I said it I could hear how selfish it sounded.

"What do you mean?"

"Marcy, this is her break. I don't know who his client is but you can bet she's going to make more for this one shoot than she's made with us since she started. I'm happy for her, it's..."

Marcy interrupted. "Shayne, she owes you. God, she wouldn't even be modeling if it wasn't for you. I can't picture her dumping us because of one shoot with Sikorski."

"She won't have a choice, Marcy. As soon as her picture hits the international market with his name next to it she'll be in demand all over the world. You can bet on it. She'll be making ten times what we could afford to pay her."

I thought of Alecta as my prodigy and almost hated to give her Victor's message. It was almost like losing two women in my life. Not that I thought there'd ever be anything romantically between us but I was very fond of her.

I called her right away. At first she argued with me. She said she just wanted to work with me but I told her she'd never make a living just working for one photographer. I almost ordered her to call Victor as soon as we hung up. She finally promised she would.

I didn't hear back from her for a while and wondered if she really called or blew it off. It was four days later that she burst into the studio and almost jumped into my arms.

"I got it, I got it," she screamed. "I got the job with Victor. Shayne, how can I ever thank you? Thirty-five hundred dollars for one shoot; you believe that, thirty-five hundred dollars."

She wrapped her arms around me and hugged me with all her might. Marcy was standing there with an, 'I told you so,' smirk on her face. I had no illusions though. I knew Alecta would soon be an international star in the business and I doubted that I'd ever see her again.

"Just remember what I taught you and remember what I told you about guys like Phil Sterling. They'll be coming out of the woodwork now that you're in the big time. Just stay focused."

"Yes, daddy," she said with a giggle.

"You'll also have to register with a couple of major agencies. They'll take part of your pay but that's how other photographers will be able to find you. I made up a three hundred composite cards for you. The first ones you want to hit are Ford's and Wihelmina. They'll distribute the cards to their agencies in New York, L.A. and Paris..."

"Paris!" she screamed. "You really think I might get to Paris?"

"I can almost guarantee it," I told her with a forced smile. I know it sounds like a wimp thing to do but I was having a hard time holding back a few tears as I handed her the comp cards I'd made.

"I'll do it tomorrow," she promised, then kissed me on the cheek. "I don't know how I'll ever thank you, Shayne; you too, Marcy," she said, looking over her shoulder.

Marcy just smiled and wished her luck.

As Alecta left the studio, or maybe I should say floated out of the studio on a cloud, I knew I'd never see her again—not in person.

"Thirty-five hundred bucks for one shoot?" asked an astonished Marcy.