Found Money

I apologize, my stories get long. I know. That’s just what happens. Also my characters have flaws. You probably won’t find an ex special forces billionaire CEO in my stories.

If you are after quick sex, this really is one to skip. If you decide to read it I hope you enjoy it.

Found Money

Oh Fuck! I’ve got to get out of here, Damon thought. He knew there were some risks operating in this city. The police did not like drug dealers, and the mayor had declared a war on drugs. But the money was so good, and it had worked well for so long. I almost had enough to move home Damon thought. He thought working out of this high end neighborhood would keep him safe.

And it had, for a while.

Damon saw the action from the upstairs window. Down the street it looked like they were assembling. Damon had a choice, get the drugs, or get the money.

He grabbed the beat up stuffed backpack out of the hidden spot in the basement. Damon then slipped out the backdoor into the backyard.

Damon saw the reflection of the police flashlight on the sides of the neighbors house. They were close. He took a moment, looked around, and soon was climbing over the back fence into the neighbors yard.

They’re going to catch me, he thought. Fuck! I need to stash this money somewhere, quick. Damon was in the backyard of the house directly behind the rental house he had been living in. Frantically, he looked around. He noticed a foundation vent. He thought that could work.

Quickly Damon was on his hands and knees. He swung open the vent window. He squeezed through the vent opening and was now in the crawl space under the neighbors house. It was filthy and God knew what was living under this house.

He didn’t care. He needed to stash this money. This was his future. Damon crawled deep under the house, pushing through spider webs and other filth. He found a small depression in the ground. He tucked the red backpack into the depression and slid a loose piece of lumber over it.

Now I’ve got to get out here, he thought.

He emerged filthy from the debris under the house. So far no cops he thought. Damon walked straight through the side yard toward the front of the house, brushing the dirt off his clothing as he walked.

He took a moment and studied the house. He memorized the address, 5718. He repeated the address over and over, committing it to memory.

He turned right heading down the sidewalk one street over from his street, where the cops were. If I can make it to the corner, Damon thought, I can cross into the parking lot and quickly slip into the park. At that point I should be free, he thought.

With a flicker of optimism Damon walked briskly toward the corner. The route seemed to be clear and he started to jog casually across the street toward the church parking lot. That’s when the first two police cars showed up. Damon’s reaction was to try to escape. He turned, took two steps in the opposite direction. That’s when the third cop car appeared blocking his path.

Hands behind his head he stopped and was quickly surrounded.

— — — — — — — — — —

I wondered how my life had gotten to the point I was at now? It didn’t seem that long ago that all seemed wonderful, things were going well. I used to be happy most of the time I thought.

On the other hand I can’t really complain. I have this great house in Ballard. True, I’ve had to make some changes. I no longer have the trendy office space I once had. But I do have a nice home office and a decent contract job in the tech industry. And I have Mel. I think. She’s beautiful and successful.

Just then my phone rang. I saw from the screen it was my cousin Mike.

“Yo, JD, What is up?” Mike greeted me.

“Just wrapping up.” I told him.

“Mel working?” He asked.

“I guess so. She’s not home.” I told him.

I never knew when she was working or not. With her job she could be gone a lot. Even more so lately it seemed like.

Mike suggested we meet at The Norsemen, a neighborhood bar partway between Ballard and downtown Seattle where Mike’s office is. Mike is an assistant district attorney working out of the King County Prosecutors office. He often had interesting stories of criminal activities.

My mother and his father are twins. Our families were close growing up and we were just a year apart in age. Mike and I stayed friends and I would have to say he is one of my closest friends.

He was already at the Norsemen by the time I got there. He had ordered me a Porter, my normal beer of choice. He looked like he’d had a long day. Suit jacket off, white shirt wrinkled, tie loose.

“Thanks Cuz,” I said and we silently toasted clinking glasses.

We sat there for a moment in contented silence just enjoying the solid bond of family and many years together. We are very different. Mike’s kind of an alpha, and me more of an introverted nerd. In reality I really wasn’t that bad, that’s just how I thought of myself

“How are the criminals treating our fair city these days?” I asked Mike.

He just shook his head. During the protests and rioting in the city the liberal downtown government had slashed funding for the police department. It was as if the mayor had rented a billboard with a sign saying “criminals welcome, and don’t worry if you are caught you won’t be punished”.

The only thing there seems to be a firm stance against was drugs. Drug trafficking was looked at quite seriously.

“There was something a little odd that happened not far from your place. Some guy was selling drugs out of a house real close to you and Mel.”

“Where was that?” I asked him.

“I don’t know but I’ll find out. It’s possible I may even get the case. The odd part about the deal is that usually these drug houses aren’t in a nice neighborhood like Ballard. Your house has to be worth a million, if not more.” Mike told me.

“Normally we see this happening in the bad parts of Renton or Tacoma. Not in your type of neighborhood.” Mike said.

He was right. Our home value along with the entire neighborhood had gone way up. Amazon, Microsoft and other tech employment had increased demand dramatically. The house I had purchased not that long ago for around five hundred thousand was easily now worth more than a million.

“Huh,” I thought. “I wonder which house it was?”

“Not sure,” Mike said. “But if it’s like any of these other drug houses look for the one that’s rundown looking, probably an overgrown yard. That’s probably it.” Mike went on.

I thought for a moment. Most of the neighbors worked hard to keep their houses and yards nice, or hired people to do it for them. I did recall one house around the block that was in much worse condition than the rest of the neighborhood. Hmm, that was pretty close to us. Was that the drug house? I couldn’t remember seeing any activity that looked like drug dealing in the area.

We got to talking about other things and I soon forgot about the drug house around the corner.

When I got home Mel was there. I wondered what kind of mood she’d be in. Mel worked for a large advertising firm in downtown Seattle.

She looked up as I walked in. Nothing resembling a smile on her face. Uh oh, another bad mood.

How did it get so bad so quickly I asked myself.

“Hey, how was your day?” I asked.

For the moment her response was silence. She was studying something on her phone.

“Mel?” I said.

All of a sudden she look up at me. A better description was she glared up at me. Definite negativity in the look. I quickly began going through a mental checklist of anything I may have done wrong. About three quarters of the way through the list Melanie replied.

“How was my day?” She stated, aggression in her voice. “Well JD,” the heavy emphasis on my name, “I’ll tell you about my day. First off there are rumors of a re-org at the office. We’ve got a new executive director from the New York office. Word is he’s a real numbers guy. I am now assistant producer on two of the least profitable clients. So my day was fairly fucked up.” She told me. And somehow the way she put it, it felt like her misfortune was my fault.

“Aw honey,” I said and moved to comfort her. “I’m sure it’s not that bad. You do a great job. There lucky to have you. You don’t have anything to worry…. ”

Moving toward Mel to give her a hug and comfort her she held both hands up, palms out in an unmistakable ‘stop’ gesture.

I did stop. Now she was back to her phone. Pecking and scrolling at who new what.

I retreated to my office. My thoughts picked up on the subject I had contemplated earlier. How did I get to the situation I now found myself in?

— — — — — — — — — —

A little less than five years ago my life was very different. I was living in a studio apartment in Bellevue. I was a programmer for Microtec. I was single and making good money, I thought. On the side I was developing a financial software program that I had worked on, off and on, since college. I was a contract employee at Microtec, so what I created on my own, I owned.

The program was designed to help with home budgeting automatically. I thought there was a chance it would have mass appeal. It became sort of my hobby and I would work on it during my off time from Microtec.

I happened to meet a guy who worked at one of the big banks. He became interested in what I was doing and put me in touch with their IT department. They introduced me to one of their software providers. We ran some tests and I made some improvements. So far everyone liked my program.

I had a friend at Microtec, Isaac Yang. Isaac and I would share different ideas about the tech business. We seemed to agree on a lot of things. The idea of going in to business together was something we discussed. We both had a lot of ideas.

And then I got the offer. One of the big tech companies wanted to buy my program. The offer was in the high six figures. I had to sign away all the intellectual property on my program, but it was worth it. Now suddenly my life was very different. I had money and I had options.

My Dad, before he died, always urged me to buy real estate. Things in the Puget Sound market were expensive, but I never forgot that advice from my Dad. I ended up buying a nice single family home in the Ballard neighborhood. It needed some work but I had a bit of carpentry skills and I saw fixing up the old place as a challenge. I bought it for cash, and I still had a chunk of money left over from the software sale.

As I said, I had options. One of the options was to go into business for myself. Immediately I thought of Isaac. He and I had a number of different ideas. Isaac and I met and talked about business.

Since I had the cash I would fund the business. I would own 75% and Isaac would own 25%. We agreed that if we were going to be a real business we would have to look like a real business. That meant an office and furnishings so people knew we were serious, not two nerds playing on computers in the garage.

We got a deal on a small office in a trendy tech section of downtown Seattle. It was a neighborhood of other offices, art galleries, chic restaurants, and popular bars. Life was very exciting for me.

I began to notice many of the other people in the area around our office. They were younger, attractive, successful looking and well dressed. One night after work Isaac and I decided to get a drink at one of the upscale bars near the office.

I observed all the stylishly dressed attractive people around my age in the bar. And then I took inventory of my own appearance. Black sweatpants and a navy blue hoodie. Under the hoodie was a lime green tee shirt from some old teenage rock concert I attended. My hair was un-stylishly long and I needed a shower. The idea of approaching a woman looking the way I did was absurd. I vowed to myself I would change my image.

I began dressing better. I bought new clothes. I had my hair cut in a more normal style. I didn’t shave every day but I never let my beard get scraggly. One day before heading off to the office I took a look at myself in the mirror. I was lanky, 6’2 probably one hundred and fifty pounds. My long but styled brown hair had light highlights suggested by the stylist. I was dressed in nice jeans and a button down shirt. Not too dressy, but I didn’t look like the slob I once did.

I felt good. I looked better than normal. We were having some early success with the business that was producing some revenue. I had money in the bank and a nice house in Ballard. And property values were rising.

One day at work this hip chick with a nose ring popped into our office and handed me a flyer.

“Hey,” she said with a big smile on her face, “there’s a gallery opening tonight on second near Pike, the address is on the paper. You guys should come.” She told us.

We set the flyer aside and continued working. Later that day I noticed groups of young, successful looking people out in the neighborhood, active, going places and looking like they were having fun.

I picked up the flyer the girl had left. I glanced at the activity outside.

“Isaac, we should go to this gallery thing tonight.” I said.

He looked at me with a blank puzzled expression on his face.

“Do what?” Isaac asked.

“Let’s go check out this gallery.” I replied picking up the flyer and waving it.

“Excuse me?” Still confused, he replied.

“Isaac, we work twelve hours a day or more. We’ve made a little money, let’s go have some fun. Who knows, maybe we’ll meet some women.” I added.

“Sure,” He said. “I’m in.” He replied. Then he took another look at the flyer studying it for a moment.

“A gallery?” He shook his head with a half smile on his face.

Several hours later we found ourselves in a busy large room, walls painted an eggshell white with works of art displayed on the walls and stands throughout the rooms with various sculptures. There was a tall Asian woman circulating with flutes of champagne.

Isaac and I were each offered and accepted the champagne. Then, we really didn’t know what to do so we wandered around a bit aimlessly. Neither of us knew a thing about art. At one point I was alone looking at a particular painting when I sensed someone behind me.

“She really is good isn’t she?” A female voice said from slightly behind me.

Without replying I turned and saw this striking young woman looking at the painting in front of me. Dark nearly black hair, an oval face, slightly olive complected, a pronounced nose, that for me was interesting looking, and a tight shaped body.

She gave me an odd look, I guess I had stared at her too long. And I still hadn’t said a word.

“Um” she hesitated still looking at me me oddly, “do you like the Mundt?” She asked.

After a moment I realized that the artist must be named Mundt. I redirected my gaze at the piece of art.

“Um, yes.” I replied, and then I said. “To be honest I don’t know a thing about art. My partner and I got a flyer and decided to come.”

“Partner?” She questioned with a slightly raised eyebrow.

In this day and age the term ‘partner’ has several connotations. This dark haired beauty was staring at me, most certainly wondering what side I played for.

“Yes, my business partner, Isaac,” and I nodded across the room where Isaac was looking at some type of metal sculpture.

“Oh,” she replied with renewed energy. “You’re in business?” She asked.

“Yes,” I said and offered her my hand. “John David Wisnewski. JD.” I introduced myself and we shook hands.

“JD,” She said staring at me and still holding my hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Melanie.”

“Now,” She said. “I want to see what’s in this room”

With that she grabbed my arm and steered me toward a piece of art in the adjacent room.

Suddenly we were having this nice, get-to-know-you, conversation about our lives. She said her name was Melanie Miller and she worked at a large advertising agency with an office in downtown Seattle. She told me what she did and where she lived. Occasionally she asked me something about my life, but it was mostly Melanie talking about Melanie.

And at the moment, I was fine with that.

As if watching myself from a hidden camera I had this image of the scene. Strolling a trendy upscale art gallery arm and arm with this gorgeous, striking woman. Well dressed and successful. I couldn’t believe it was me in the scene.

Just a short time ago my mental image of myself was far different. Nerdy, slightly introverted, no sense of style, very different than what my image at this moment would look like to others. I felt I was playing a role. A role of being a young, successful, casually well dressed entrepreneur.

A couple of times I noticed Isaac noticing me. The look on his face was as if he could not believe what he was seeing. He knew me as the nerdy me.

As the evening wound down I knew I wanted there to be a next chapter in this, I guess, friendship with Melanie. But I did not know or have the experience to ask for the next date.

As it turned out I need not have worried, Melanie took charge.

After a brief hug, but not so brief that I didn’t get a hint of her curves, she told me she would meet me at Infusion, a super trendy bar not too far from my office. Friday night at seven PM.

“Okay.” I replied. It felt like I had no choice but to agree.

I watched as she walked away down the rainy streets of downtown Seattle with three other women. I felt like my life had just ever so subtly changed. Mostly I was excited about the change. But there was a small part of me that was worried.

“What was all that about?” Isaac asked me.

I paused for a moment still staring at Melanie and her friends.

“Isaac,” I said. “I have no idea.”

As we headed back to the office I told Isaac that we were going to Infusion Friday night.

That Friday at the bar was fun too, at first. An extension of the art gallery evening. Melanie and a group of her friends showed up, late, but they showed up.

I was with Isaac.

Isaac made an effort to blend in, dressed well and was talkative. We were actually at a corner of the bar and it was a busy scene.

Again I felt like I was playing a role. The young successful entrepreneur. For a moment I worried, what if Melanie finds out that’s not who I really am? And then I thought to myself, but I am a young, successful entrepreneur. My confidence blossomed.

But there was a still an undercurrent of insecurity.

We had a good time. We talked about our work, current events, our lives, and mostly Melanie talked about Melanie.

I didn’t care I just enjoyed being with her.

As the evening progressed our group evolved to me and Melanie talking and Isaac with Melanie’s friends.

I had my arm loosely around her waist, our heads close and our conversation became quieter, more intimate. I felt this was going in a very good direction. As I stared at Melanie I watched her eyes change from half lidded-ly focused on me to suddenly wide open and gazing over my right shoulder.

“Harrison,” she exclaimed. And as she said this she shrugged my arm away from her waist and moved toward whoever she was focused on behind me.

I turned to see Melanie hug this guy, big, taller than me, and a little older than me. And I knew his type. He was the class president, starting quarterback, the big man on campus.

Tall handsome and confident. The kind of guy that had intimidated me all through school – without even knowing it. My thin mantle of confidence quickly cracked.

It was probably a good two minutes into their conversation before Melanie introduced me to ‘Harrison’.

“Harrison Locke,” He said and shook my hand.

All I said was “Hi”.

Eventually I told him my name, and we all talked for a few minutes. And then there was an awkward silence. No one knowing what else to say.

“Well,” Harrison finally did say. “I don’t mean to interrupt your evening.” And made motions as if he was going to leave.

“No, no,” Melanie clutched his arm. Kind of like she did to me at the art gallery when we first met.

“I really should go,” Harrison said. “I’m with some people.” And he nodded to a group across the room. All well dressed, handsome and successful looking.

With a hug to Melanie and a hand clapped on my bony shoulder he left our area.

“Harrison works at McClatchy-Reed with me.” Melanie elaborated. “He’s our client manager. I’ve been trying to get on the client side of the business for the last year. It’s a tough job, but that’s where the money is.” She told me.

All the time she was talking to me she was staring off, over my shoulder in the direction of Harrison Locke. The intimacy we had shared just ten minutes ago was gone. I now felt insecure and out of place.

It wasn’t long before Melanie and here gang declared it was time to go.

“Call me,” Melanie said to me. “Let’s do something together soon.”

And with the briefest of hugs and a light kiss on my cheek, she was gone.

Isaac and I left almost immediately after. On the way home I analyzed my feelings. Throughout all of high school and parts of college I had longed for girls like Melanie. It was almost like reading an Archie comic and seeing Betty and Veronica, shapely, beautiful and full breasted.

That was the kind of woman I wanted. My girlfriends had been far more plain. If a particular girlfriend I had was attractive facially, normally her body would not be great.

Or the nice breasted slim girlfriends would have an unremarkable face. The selection of girls I was to choose from was most certainly a notch or so below the Melanie’s of the world.

I know that all sounds terribly superficial, but it was how I felt. I couldn’t help it.

This was why the evening ended so disappointingly for me. I felt I was closer than I had ever been to the kind of girl I had always wanted, but Harrison’s presence firmly reminded me of the kind of guy that someone like Melanie would end up with.

With resignation I realized I would never call Melanie. I didn’t need to put myself through all the likely rejection.

It was nearly a week later and I had emerged from my post-Melanie funk and life was back to normal. Any mood change I had experience was left unsaid between Isaac and I.

Out of the blue my iPhone vibrates.

“Hey stranger,” it’s Melanie. “I thought I might hear from you by now.” She says.

I was so stunned by the phone call I said nothing at first. In my mind my brief encounters with Melanie were solidly in the rear view mirror. Hadn’t she moved on?

“Uh,” I finally choked out. “I’ve been busy at work.” I uttered, the feeblest of excuses.

“Well you can’t work all the time,” she told me. “Let’s go do something tomorrow night. I’ll text you my address.” She added.

And just like that the emotional buoyancy of the art gallery night had re-inflated. I was confused but excited. Maybe I could end up with a good looking woman like Melanie?

That Friday night was a good night. We went to Kai a nice sushi restaurant in the Pioneer district. After that we went to Bilateral a very hip, semi gay, club and danced until late.

One thing I have to mention. When I was growing up every Summer I would camp for a week with Mike, my cousins, family. Mike’s sister would bring her friend, Gabriella.

Gabriella taught us to dance. And though socially I could be awkward and athletically I was a bit uncoordinated, I could dance. And I was pretty good.

I think my dancing skills surprised Melanie. She seemed pleased with the way I danced. I felt I had passed some type of acceptance test.

Much later we ended back at her place. No roommates visible. We ended up on her couch. We started kissing and I could tell she was in to it.

After a while I started kissing the side of her neck and she began to massage my back sensuously. I slipped one hand down to her beautiful breast.

“No,” she softly breathed into my ear.

I could feel her swollen nipple through her clothes. I was turned on, she was turned on, but no means no, and I removed my hand.

“You’re not stealing second base tonight.” She told me.

“No?” I asked.

“Not tonight big boy,” she said. “But this time you better call me. And soon.” She told me.

She walked me to the door and this lead to another briefer but intense make out session. I was holding her full frontal to full frontal. I could feel her breasts and there was no way she didn’t feel my erection.

“Good night, big boy,” she said with. A half smile and when she said ‘big boy’ she glanced down to my groin. And with that she gently pushed me out and softly shut the door.

And there I stood in the hallway of her apartment complex with a stupid grin on my face and a giant erection. What a night.

I did call her and we started seeing each other at least a couple of times a week. I would have liked to be with her more than this, but I didn’t want to act desperate.

It must have been about our fourth official date and I had invited her to my house where I had planned to cook her dinner. She hadn’t been to my house before.

The house was old, but in a nice neighborhood of older, mostly well preserved homes. Values were skyrocketing.

My house was solid, but needed some updates. For example, there was a rotten old cedar patio off the dining room accessed by a clunky looking aluminum sliding glass door. This was on the list to replace.

Melanie seemed interested in the house and slowly strolled about examining small details like the built in bookshelves and the old tiled fireplace. It was almost like an appraisal.

I had seared ahi and added rice and vegetables. Delicious and healthy.

After dinner Melanie sat in the living room with a glass of wine I cleared the table and dashed up stairs for a minute, did a few things, and returned to the living room.

“Do you want to see the upstairs too?” I asked, my face a mask of innocence.

“Here we go,” she joked. “I remember that line from my first fraternity party at college.” She said, but with a friendly smile.

After that first night at her apartment we’d had a couple more make out and fondling sessions. We still hadn’t made love – but we were getting close.

We walked up the stairs hand and hand. I showed her the guest bedroom and then my room. Once again she looked at small details, opened closet doors and examined the books on my nightstand, nodding as if in approval as she saw my house.

Lastly I showed her the upstairs bathroom. While she had been sitting in the living room I had drawn a bubble bath and placed small votive candles throughout the tiled bathroom. The candle and bath oils combined to make a pleasant sensuous scent in the small room.

“What?” She replied in surprise. “This is wonderful, but what, who is this for?” Slightly confused she asked.

“Well, it’s for you. Us.” I said, and with that I started removing my clothes.

“Are you just trying to get me naked?” She asked half joking.

“Not necessarily,” I said, “But normally you disrobe before taking a bath.” I told her.

By that time I was down to my underwear and when I removed that, now I was nude.

Nude with the same giant erection I had that night at her apartment.

She stared at my cock. I watched her, she stared for a solid ten seconds. She then stared right in to my eyes and stripped. Her gaze never leaving mine. Finally her bra and panties came off.

I remember many teenage fantasies about beautiful women with beautiful bodies, naked. And though I’d had my share of sexual adventures so far, nothing compared to Melanie, naked.

The beautiful dark hair, the striking face, the slim waist, beautiful breasts and the hint of pubic hair trailing down to the treasure of her pussy.

I moved to hug her, to touch her, and she held up both palms in a stop gesture.

“I thought we were taking a bath?” She smiled and told me.

It was a claw foot and there was room for both of us. Sort of. I sat behind her, my legs spread and she was nestled between them. I poured warm water over her hair and gently washed it, massaging her scalp. She was slumped back against me enjoying the sensuous experience.

I was reasonably comfortable except for my full erection. There didn’t appear to be anyplace comfortable to put it.

I hoped there would be later.

After I did her hair my hands moved down to her neck and shoulders. We both knew what was next and her nipples were already swollen by the time my hands got to her breasts.

I squeezed, massaged, rubbed and fondled her beautiful breasts. I had an involuntary urge to suck her nipples and I even moved my neck that direction, but in this position no one is that flexible.

Eventually my hands trailed down below her waist. I didn’t plunge directly in. My fingers examined her genital region, touching, sliding, lightly fondling through the soapy water. The back of my hand brushed her pronounced clitoris and I could feel her involuntarily press back against my erection.

After a few more brushes, I started circling her clitoral region, lightly touching, moving closer and closer to the center. Her legs were rigid pushing hard on the far end of the tub protruding from the water, her head was tipped back against my neck.

Finally I began to rub her most sensitive area. Her legs convulsed, water splashed on the floor dousing several candles. She moaned her orgasm and then finally she slumped, her hand removing my own hand from her pussy.

For a few minutes we just lay in the tub. The tiny candles reflecting on to the ceiling, the warm water finally still, the only sound, Melanie’s breathing and soft moaning.

She tilted her head, turned and kissed my jawline.

“We better do something with that thing before it explodes,” Melanie half whispered to me.

I laughed at the mental image as I dried her off.

We make it to my bed, and she immediately starts guiding me into fucking position. I gently and slowly move to more foreplay. I’m afraid fucking may not last too long and I want to prolong this first experience.

I finally get to suck on those beautiful tits. She’s stroking me and I actually have to disengage her hand, afraid I may actually explode as she had predicted previously.

Eventually I trail down to her pussy, this time with my mouth. After a few minutes she orgasms again.

As she recover she grabs my erect penis and sticks it inside her. Then she fucks me. I was actually fairly proud, I lasted longer than I thought before my orgasm finally did explode.

We lay blissfully for a while content physically. To me this was something special, I hoped it was for Melanie too. I wanted to talk to her about my feelings and my commitment to her but I waited. I didn’t want to get to serious and ruin the moment.

Eventually I started playing with her breasts, lightly fondling her nipple. Her fingernails start a slow stroking of my scrotum, and then up and down my shaft. I was soon hard.

And now Melanie was in control. She is on top this time, she was firmly in the drivers seat. She impaled my cock on her pussy. She rode me, palms pressing down on my chest, hair falling in her eyes.

My hands were on her breasts massaging, but the pleasure she was seeking was between her legs. She pressed, flexed, and pushed. Her eyes tight shut. I watched almost as if I was barely a part of the act, she just wanted my cock.

As I built to a climax, eyes closed she whispered “not yet.”

And I held out, barely. When she erupted I came quickly after. She slumped on top of me.

After a few minutes she slid off the bed and headed for the bathroom. I lay there content, wondering and hoping that this feeling would last for a long time.

This began a new more intimate chapter for our relationship. The fact that she accepted and wanted me sexually made me feel good. My own self confidence grew and that was positive and healthy for our relationship.

Even though we had not had a discussion about any declaration of exclusivity, we were exclusive. I know I was exclusive and I mostly trusted Melanie.

One night we were meeting some work friends of hers for a drink. She introduced me to them as ‘her boyfriend’. It was a small thing but it was a statement of our advanced dating status that I was happy to hear.

Later that night, in my house in bed we talked.

“So I’m your boyfriend now?” More a statement than a question.

She hesitated before answering.

“Of course you are.” She said. “We’re fucking.”

And with that statement I re-confirmed my status to Melanie’s great pleasure.

These were good days for me. Isaac and I were doing fairly well. No huge deals yet but we did have an income stream to some degree. In the tech world you cannot relax. New technology is changing so fast you cannot afford to take your eye of the ball.

And then of course my relationship with Melanie made me so happy. It wasn’t perfect, there was not great balance. We mostly did what Melanie wanted. She was in charge. For the most part I was the dependent variable.

Still I was not complaining. I had the beautiful girl I always had wanted and now apparently she wanted me too.

I recalled when Isaac and I had first moved into our office space and I used to watch the people out on the street. Mostly young, successful looking people, going places in groups looking like they were having a good time.

I was now one of them. I imagined someone watching me walking arm and arm with beautiful Melanie and being envious of me and my life. It made me feel good. I now felt like I was part of the in crowd.

But there were insecure moments when I wondered if this was all just a temporary situation. Would it all end and I revert to the nerd-dom of my previous life?

I tried to shove those thoughts to some back corner of my brain.

One night Melanie and I met up with my cousin Mike Fairchild the assistant district attorney. Mike and I had been close our whole lives and Mike had protected me more than once when some asshole tried to bully me.

We met at a less trendy place called The Dandelion Pub. Nothing wrong with it, but it was far from the upscale places Melanie was used to near my office.

Though there was no specific problem between Melanie and Mike it was a slightly uncomfortable evening. As I have said Melanie likes to be in control and truly this doesn’t bother me. Every relationship has its own dynamics and that was the way ours was.

But Mike, ever my protector, kept trying to inject me into whatever particular conversation, trying to balance my interests with Melanie’s. The entire evening ended a little sooner than planned to everyone’s relief.

A few days later Mike and I met for lunch.

“What did you think of Melanie?” I asked him.

He paused and answered.

“She is definitely different than some of your other girlfriends.” He told me.

“Yes, isn’t she.” I replied. “She is so cool and fun to be with, I’d do almost anything for her.” I told Mike.

He sat for a minute, not speaking, staring at me, thinking.

“Does she let you have your way some of the time?” He asked me.

I answer immediately, nearly defensively.

“Of course she does!” I say. “We do lots of things that I suggest.” I tell him, he can tell my feathers are a bit ruffled.

Palms up, he says “Okay, okay. I’m just checking. She is attractive and she seems to like you.” He goes on. “Look, I’m happy for you. If you’re happy with her, great.”

Not the ringing endorsement I thought he would say, but positive.

As we leave the restaurant we give each other a man hug and he claps me on the back.

“Hey JD,” Mike says to me, “I’m glad you’re happy. I want to get to know Melanie a little better. One thing,” he says, “that’s a hell of a schnoz she has!” He laughs and tells me.

“Asshole!” I shout back to him half laughing.

From Mike I know it wan’t a malicious insult, more of a joke between good friends.

But as I said early on, Melanie has a striking look. I find her pronounced nose exotic and attractive. Kind of Kardashian-like. She hates it and has said more than once that she wants a nose job. I tell her I like her just the way she is. These comments from me seem to have no assuring affect for Melanie.

Several weeks later Melanie invited me to a company event.

Her advertising firm, McClatchy-Reed, has an annual dinner with awards and speeches every year in early December. I was excited she had asked me. I chalked this up to another positive sign of our growing relationship.

The event was held at the Sheraton Hotel ballroom in downtown Seattle. I wore a brand new dark suit I had bought for the occasion. It was the first suit I had ever owned.

Melanie looked fabulous in a beautiful dress showing a fair amount of cleavage.

I estimated there were a little over a hundred people there. In the advertising business there are several categories of jobs. Production, creative and client management are some of the key roles.

At McClatchy the client managers can make the most money, almost a commission on revenue generated by the particular client. There were two parts to this position at McClatchy. Managing existing clients and getting new clients. Client acquisition.

Melanie had told me numerous times she wanted to get out of production and get on the client side. Harrison Locke, who I first met months ago at Infusion, was the executive Vice President of client management.

Melanie had told me several times that she had made it known to Locke that she was interested in getting on the client side of the business. He had always been gracious and noted her interest but the subject was never discussed formally.

“I don’t think he thinks I’m attractive enough to be on the client side,” she told me as we arrived at the ballroom.

“Mel,” I said, “that’s ridiculous. You will be the best looking woman at the entire event.” I told her.

My words had little to no effect.

“All the people in client management look like they could be actors or actresses.” She went on.

“Melanie, honey,” I said. “You look great, now, let’s not worry about it and have a good time.” I told her.

She ignored my words.

“I think, he thinks my nose is too big.” She stated.

By this time in our relationship I had learned that when Melanie gets in this type of mood my best strategy is to say nothing, nod my head at appropriate times and try to keep the proper expression on my face.

Despite all that the evening was fun. Or most of it was. There were cocktails, a surprisingly good dinner, some speeches, awards, and dancing.

There were moments when I had to fight down flares of jealousy. Melanie was quite friendly with a number of good looking guys at McClatchy and she was showing a fair amount of tit in that dress. But she did nothing to quite cross the line.

As I said, I’m a pretty good dancer and I was asked to dance by several of Melanie’s female co-workers and I believe I handled myself quite well. I also think this helped boost me in Melanie’s eyes.

Towards the end of the evening Melanie and I ended up talking to Harrison Locke. I know that Melanie wanted to ask him about a client management position again.

After a bit of small talk and comments on what a nice evening this had been so far, Melanie brought the subject of her career transitioning to client management with Harrison.

“Harrison, I just wanted to make sure you knew of my interest in client management. I would love to be on your team and work with our clients.” She told him with great enthusiasm.

I was watching Harrison as she spoke. For a moment, just a fraction of a second, I saw his gaze shift from Melanie’s eyes, just ever so briefly to her nose.

“I, uh, will certainly note your interest Melanie. Thank you for letting me know.” And with that Harrison excused himself and moved off in to the crowded the ballroom.

We just stood there for a moment frozen. I’m sure Melanie saw the nose glance, but the last thing I was going to do was bring it up.

“Let’s go.” She told me.

“Leave? Already?” I asked.

“We’re going.” She firmly stated.

She headed for the door and I had to nearly sprint to catch up with her.

The entire way home I heard how her nose was too big, how it’s affecting her career, how all the woman in client management were much better looking than she was. And on and on.

All my attempts to placate her was quickly and fairly rudely dismissed. I reverted to the same strategy I had used earlier. I quit talking.

“JD,” She asked me. “Could you loan me enough for some cosmetic surgery?”

Melanie knew I still had a lump of my tech sale money. She didn’t know exactly how much or where I had invested it. But she knew I had it.

“I’ve checked,” she said, a thread of enthusiasm in her voice. “I think for a good doctor it wouldn’t be more than twenty thousand, probably less. Could you loan that to me?” She asked.

Once again I was silent, I thought about it. First off I wasn’t comfortable loaning her the money for this superficial unnecessary medical procedure. If she needed something to improve her health, I would GIVE her the money in a second.

But this was different. I was philosophically against it. But I wasn’t stupid either. I kept these thoughts to myself.

“Um, sorry Mel,” I said. “All my money is tied up in long term things right now.”

Remarkably she didn’t argue with me about this, but certainly her mood was in a downward spiral.

What had started out as a nice evening had taken a negative turn quite quickly. And the other thing was, for some reason, Melanie was acting as if was somehow this was my fault.

Life went on and our relationship got better, slowly, but it was better. The truth of the situation was I was deeply in love with Melanie and it was I that made many sacrifices to keep the relationship going.

I was fine with all this. And apparently it was fine with Melanie too. She had that air about her as if she deserved a pampered life. I was more than eager to pamper her.

And then, a couple of things happened.

One of her roommates took a job in Southern California and was obviously moving.

The other roommate had a serious boyfriend and they were getting married within the year.

I would also say that at a minimum Melanie stayed at my house at least twice a week.

We had talked about her moving in with me, but I always got the impression that she was not ready to make that type of commitment to me. At least not yet.

The roommate situation changed things. I kept asking her to move in, now using a more practical reasoning. All her roommates will soon be gone and she needed a place to live.

She never actually never said no. She would just say, “I’ll think about it”.

And then one night while we were discussing the subject again she agreed to move in. I was overjoyed. I was kissing her, telling her I loved her, talking excitedly about painting walls, and on and on.

In the back of my mind I kind of suspected Melanie looked at this less as a further commitment to our relationship and more as a practical solution to a current problem.

I didn’t dwell on that thought. I was just so pleased that she would soon be living with me.

Once she actually did move in she quickly took control of things in my house. We painted walls, she chose the colors. We bought new furniture, she picked it out. We remodeled the downstairs bathroom, she designed it. I did the work. The new bathroom soon became ‘her’ bathroom.

Shortly there after we celebrated our one year anniversary of being together. We had dinner at The Metropolitan Grill. I had decided that on this occasion I wanted a little more definition on ‘where our relationship was going’.

“Melanie,” I began, “I hope you know how much I love and care about you.”

“I know JD,” she said, “you tell me all the time.”

“Well I just wanted to say to you,” I said, “that I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” I told her.

“Wow JD,” she said, “that’s so sweet.” She smiled at me.

“Mel,” I said a little more forcefully, “I want to be with you forever, I want to marry you.” I told her staring straight into her eyes.

She was speechless staring back at me. We had talked of long term commitments and future plans before, but no one had ever mentioned marriage until this point.

“Are you,” She asked hesitantly, “proposing to me?”

“Well no,” I began, “no, I mean yes. I guess I am proposing to you.” I told her.

“JD, geez.” She said. “This is a lot to think about, you’re going to have to give me some time.” She told me.

And I did. I didn’t demand an answer. I didn’t give her any ultimatums. I just every so often reminded her that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her.

Some weeks later Isaac and I had a minor bit of success in our business that created a mild buzz in the tech industry. For us it was huge, we needed the success and the cash flow.

Shortly after that Melanie and I attended a charity event for disadvantaged youth.

This was one of these things where there is a dinner, an auction, speeches and awards were presented. People spent a lot of money pretending to do good for the particular charity.

We had a good time but for the most part it was uneventful.

There is a publication in the Puget Sound area called the ‘Seattle Scene’, it’s kind of a hip glossy magazine that showcases the young and glamorous and sells high end advertising.

Apparently ‘Seattle Scene’ was at the same charity event Melanie and I were at.

A few days after the event the current issue was published. Melanie excitedly brought it home.

“JD, you’ve got to see this,” she waved the Seattle Scene magazine in the air.

“This is so cool,” she said.

At this point I don’t have any idea what she’s talking about, and then she shows me the magazine.

There is a photo of Melanie and I at the charity event in the issue of Seattle Scene. We both look pretty good, dressed up, examining an auction item. And then Melanie reads me the caption.

“Young advertising executive Melanie Miller prepares to bid on an interesting auction item accompanied by date, successful tech entrepreneur John David Wisnewski”.

“This is so cool,” she repeats. And it is kind of cool. Maybe not as cool as Melanie thinks. But then I never liked the spotlight. Without question she does.

The weeks after this event were some of the most positive in out relationship to date. Melanie seems to be more in to me than before. I can’t discount the effect the Seattle Scene photo had on her attitude.

One night, a few weeks after the day she brought home the magazine, I arrived home to Melanie with an iced bottle of champagne.

“What’s going on?” I asked, happily surprised by her enthusiasm.

“Yes.” She told me. And then just smiled at me.

I was still confused.

“Yes, what?” I asked.

“Yes I will marry you, you big dummy!” She told me.

This was great news and stunning. I was very happy to hear this, but a part of me wanted to ask, ‘what changed’. I was also smart enough to not demand an answer to that question at this particular moment.

The next few months were a whirlwind of activity. Melanie’s parents live in Missoula and her Mom came out, stayed with us, and they did wedding planning.

Most of the decision making was done by Melanie and that was fine with me. Occasionally I was asked obligatorily my opinion on something but it never really mattered.

There were some practical matters we needed to get settled.

First off the state of Washington does not require a blood test before marriage but we both got physicals with a blood screen.

We met with my insurance agent and each got a term life insurance policy for five hundred thousand dollars with each other as beneficiary.

And then we met with a family practice lawyer. We discussed our estates, mine consisting of mostly my house and business. Melanie’s was a little more complex. Her largest asset was her parents vacation home on Flathead Lake that she and her sister would one day inherit.

The scenario he asked us to consider was this: if we were to have children and then if Melanie were to die before her parents, would her children have any rights to the cabin on Flathead Lake?

What we finally agreed to do was to co-mingle our assets. Though it was still only my name on the deed to my house, Melanie would have rights to the house just as I would have rights to the Flathead cabin after her parents passed away.

It was sort of complex but it made sense. At this point I was prepared to agree to and sign most anything. My desire for Melanie was so strong.

The wedding finally happened and it was a fun and expensive event. My cousin Mike was my best man and Isaac was a groomsman. We honeymooned at the Flathead Lake cabin. I had not been to the area before but it was where Melanie and her family grew up vacationing.

It was beautiful and modern looking while still maintaining a rustic presence. You couldn’t quite call it a lodge but in my mind, it was certainly more than a cabin. And it was right on the lake. It was a magical place. And it was worth a lot of money.

The Californians had discovered this quadrant of Montana decades ago. Then came the wealthy Washingtonians followed by the Oregonians. Thankfully Melanie’s family had owned the home for a number of years before the migrations.

I was fairly sure they couldn’t afford to buy it now, few could. But it’s value, for some reason, made me fell better about the legal documents we signed before we were married.

After the honeymoon it was back to work for both of us. Our post-wedding lifestyle didn’t change too much. Melanie was already living at my house and as I had mentioned, she was running the house these days. I was happy.

There was one thing that did bother me. She didn’t take my last name. She didn’t even hyphenate her last name. She just kept her family name.

“I just like my name.” she told me.”It sounds good in an alliterative way.” She said.

But this was a small thing I told myself. There were sacrifices in all relationships. Weren’t there?

I focused on the positive things.

Finally after all these post-pubescent desires I had the type of woman I had always desired. My business with Isaac certainly had it’s ups and downs but we were making some money. So far no large tech company had seemed interested

in acquiring us.

Work for Melanie had it’s ups and downs too. She was frustrated with her role and still wanted to get into client management. She was convinced if she got a nose job this would change things for her at McClatchy.

I continued to tell her I liked her just the way she was. This appeared to have little comforting effect.

Over the months things began to change. Change slowly, but nonetheless they were changing.

Melanie, though normally moody, seemed to rarely be in a good mood. She was working longer hours and seemed more and more stressed by her job. She didn’t seem to like it.

And our sex life suffered. Before and around the wedding we would make love a couple of times per week. It was daily on the honeymoon. Certainly every weekend for sure. That tapered off to maybe once a week and sometimes once every two weeks.

One Saturday I carefully brought up the subject of our sex life.

“Mel,” I said. “I know you’ve got a lot going on at work, but I miss spending time with you.” I told her.

“What do you mean?” She replied, “we’re together constantly.” She added.

“You know,” I said, “like in the bedroom.”

“On my God!” She exclaimed. “We have sex all the time!” She told me.

“Mel, it’s been over a week.” I told her.

She sat for a moment, thinking, but didn’t reply.

We made love that night and perhaps it was my imagination but it didn’t feel like she was in to it as much as normal.

My business with Isaac was also experiencing a dry spell. After our last success we had yet to come up with anything lately. Both Isaac and I were working long hours and the money was barely trickling in.

Though Isaac and I never argued, the state of our business was creating tension in our business and personal relationship.

A few months later, a rainy Wednesday Isaac approached me.

“JD, I, uh, need to talk with you.” He said, eyes cast downward.

This was odd. We were always so informal here at the office. Something definitely was up.

“Sure,” I said, “what’s going on?”

He hesitated.

“Man, JD, we’ve had some good times together and we’ve created some great products over the years. But,” he said. “I’m not making any money.” He told me.

For a moment I absorbed what Isaac had said.

“Isaac, we’ve just hit a temporary lull.” I told him. “Once we get rolling again, it will get better. I can fund the business with my reserves.” I added.

“JD,” Isaac said. “I’ve received an offer from Microtec. I’d be a manager. The money’s really good and I want to buy a house. Right now, I can barely qualify for a loan.” He told me.

I tried to talk him out of it, but it was hard to argue with his logic. At first I was a little upset with him. But I could tell he really felt bad. He even offered to come in on weekends to help me. I knew that would never work but it was a nice gesture anyway.

Isaac was scheduled to start at Microtec in a little over a week. I decided to try to run the business on my own and see what happened.

Despite my acceptance of Isaac’s departure this change in my business upset me. I tried to talk to Melanie about it but her response was to suck it up and keep going. Not the understanding sympathetic comments I was hoping to hear.

Over the next year things at both my business and Melanie’s job were stressful and rarely positive.

Melanie was constantly under pressure. The advertising industry is a risky game. Lose one big client and it can have an immediate effect on cash flow and layoffs. Once the rumors began about a particular client they grew a life of their own.

All this added to Melanie’s stress.

My business also had changed. Whereas before Isaac and I discussed certain ideas and bounced concepts off one another, I was alone now. Where I used to be excited about walking the busy streets to my office and working, now I entered the building with feelings close to dread.

I had considered hiring someone but I would have to fund them from my reserves. Programmers were getting paid a lot of money these days and I wasn’t sure I could even find someone to hire.

My thoughts began to change directions. My lease was for another five months. I had a lot to think about in these coming months.

The combination of both our individual work stress took its toll on our relationship. Melanie was often in a bad mood. Where she was angry, I just kind of moped around, feeling sorry for myself and needing her.

I would try to talk to her about my work problems, her job problems, or our relationship. These conversations were rarely productive for us.

None of this was good for our sex life. I needed her more than ever and she didn’t act like she needed or wanted me much at all.

Meanwhile I continued to talk with Isaac. He listened and understood the stress of my business. I could, to some degree, continue to bounce ideas off Isaac, but he was busy and didn’t have the time like when we were partners.

I also had my cousin Mike to talk to. Once every couple of weeks we would get together for a beer and to talk. This was another one of the few bright spot in my life at this time. I would talk about Mel and my relationship. He would listen, nod his head, but I knew deep down he had never been a huge fan of Melanie.

One of the things I did when I wasn’t at work was work around my house. It was an older house and there was always something to do. I had kind of a mental checklist of projects to complete. I prioritized them by need, cost and time. These activities were therapeutic for me.

One day I was down at the local lumber store and in the showroom was a beautiful set of French doors. The sign on the doors said ‘REGULARLY $3000 on sale $1000’.

Huh, I thought. I grabbed a measuring tape and measured the doors. I then went home, removed the cheap trim on the old aluminum sliding door and measured the rough opening. I think the doors at the lumber store would fit.

I went back to the lumber store.

“I’ll give you $700 for these doors,” I told the guy at the counter.

“I need $800.” He told me.

“$750 and you deliver, final offer.” I told him and he agreed.

I knew exactly what had happened. Someone had ordered the doors and measured wrong. The customer likely refused to pay and the lumber store was stuck with the doors.

I had examined the doors. They were a beautiful fiberglass pair. They also had what is called a multi-point lock. This provided better security and helped with energy loss. The only negative would be that we’d need a separate entrance key for this lock than all the other doors in the house.

I was excited about my new project and for a short time my positive energy buoyed Melanie’s spirits too.

One Monday morning at my office and I got a call from Isaac. I was down to less than two months on my lease and I was unsure about renewing it.

“JD, I wanted to run something by you,” Isaac said. “We need a programmer. It would be a contract job. You could still work on your own projects, but it would be full time.” He told me.

And then he told me the daily rate. This was a great opportunity. I told him I’d think about it.

“I get it JD,” Isaac said, “But I need to get someone by the end of the week. You’re the first person I called.” He added.

“I’ll let you know by tomorrow.” I told him and he agreed.

My first instinct was to call Mike and discuss the offer from Isaac. We agreed to meet that night. I hadn’t even thought to talk to Melanie about the opportunity.

After getting Mike’s feedback, the following day I called Isaac and accepted. There was a bit of negotiation but nothing serious. I informed the real estate company that I would not be renewing the lease.

Suddenly an enormous weight felt like it was lifted off my back.

That night at home I told Melanie about this change I was planning on making.

“You mean you’re giving up your business?” She asked, not quite sharing the positivity that I had.

I told her not really, I would still be able to work on it while I wasn’t on the clock for Microtec.

“But you aren’t keeping the office?” She asked.

I told her, no, it would be a needless expense.

“So will you commute to Bellevue every day?” She asked.

“No, I’ll set up a home office in the downstairs bedroom.” I told her.

“You’re going to put an office in my house!?” She asked.

Her house?

At that point any type of reasonable discussion evaporated. Melanie was showing no sympathy or understanding of my situation. She was so self absorbed all she thought about was how it would affect her.

For once I stood up for myself. I told her it was MY house. I bought it long before I met her. I told her I was making this sacrifice for US! For our long term future and the future of any children we may have. And on and on.

This lead to one of these marital cold wars that can last a day or two.

During this time I plugged in my headphones and worked on my door project, which was actually turning out quite well. Next step was to replace the old decaying cedar deck the doors opened up to.

Finally I apologized and she didn’t quite accept but things got a little better.

I moved out of my office downtown and set up office in the downstairs bedroom. I began working for Isaac.

It was like old times, but better. I was making money and I didn’t have the financial pressure of running an office. I knew what I was doing and was producing for Microtec. And my commute was a flight of stairs.

There were times when I tried to talk to Melanie about our relationship. I loved her and I wanted things like they had once been. She would agree and things were temporarily better but nothing really changed.

And just a few small comments she made, made me think she thought less of me for, what she thought was, giving up on my business.

This stung a little bit, but I wasn’t looking for another full blown argument.

— — — — — — — — — —

(and now we are back to the point in time when I had met with my cousin Mike at The Norseman and heard about the drug dealer in our neighborhood… )

I knew when Mel was in one of these moods it was best to just leave her alone. I kept telling myself that the stress from her work was creating the negativity towards me. She needed a place to vent, I told myself.

And there were times when I almost believed that too.

I decided to do a little work. I knew there was no magical wand I could wave to get her out of her bitchy mood.

Tomorrow was Friday. If I could get a little work done tonight, maybe I could start tearing out the old wood deck.

The French doors I had installed looked great. That made the old deck, by comparison, look even worse.

I did a fair amount of work that night and by noon on Friday I was all caught up with a head start on next week.

I decided to start the hard work of tearing out the old deck. The installation of the new deck is kind of fun. But the unpleasant part is getting the old one out.

Unfortunately they had nailed the old cedar to the pressure treated lumber frame. Removing screws is much easier and far more painless. I began.

After several hours of nail removal and what appeared to me as not much progress, I grabbed my hydroflask and sat in the back of my yard near the neighbors fence. I drank the water and tried to envision my plan for the deck.

And then I noticed one of my crawl space vents was open. Aw fuck I thought. This had happened a few years ago and I had ended up with a family of raccoons living under my house. Four hundred dollars to the exterminator later, they were gone.

He told me the first thing to look for is any access into the crawl space, normally an open vent.

Fuck. If I thought removing nails was a crappy job, crawling underneath the house and looking for rodents was far worse.

I went into the house got my old ski goggles, a stocking hat and a flashlight. I also carried a small shovel, for defense I thought. Ugh. Crawling through bugs, spiders and potential rodents was real close to the bottom of activities I would choose to do.

But I had to. I didn’t want to pay an exterminator a few hundred dollars to find out the wind blew open my vent cover.

I took a deep breath and crawled through the small opening on my foundation vent. It was cramped and filthy. I turned on the flashlight and searched for rodents.

So far nothing. Then I saw something, some type of lump directly in front of me about halfway under the house. I cautiously crawled toward it, but nothing was moving. It didn’t look like a rodent nest.

As I got closer it looked like a piece of lumber on top of something else. I probed the lump cautiously with the small shovel. No movement.

With the shovel I pushed away the lumber and saw what I thought was a ball of clothes. No, it was a bag, or actually an old backpack. Full of something.

— — — — — — — — — —

Damon sat in his cell. He felt a quiet anger. An anger at himself. He had been so close to his goal. Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars and he could have bought his uncle’s body shop in West Hattiesburg, building included. A new life for him.

The free lawyer that talked to him, told him he would likely do fourteen to twenty months. He could be out in eleven months if he behaved himself the guy had said. Like this was some type of good news.

FUCK!

— — — — — — — — — —

I slowly shuffled backwards out of the crawl space pulling the mysterious backpack along. I knew the pack had not been under the house less than two years ago when I had the raccoon problem. I never saw this pack there then? Strange.

I brushed the dirt and debris off myself and did a quick inspection to make sure no spiders were on my clothes. I then sat on the old deck with the backpack crammed with who knew what next to me. I removed my gloves and unzipped the tattered red pack.

There was money in it. A lot of money. Worn bills, mostly hundreds and some twenties. Most of it was in banded stacks and there was a small amount loose.

My heart started beating, hard. What was this? Where had it come from I wondered. Then I got nervous. I glanced around, had any of the neighbors seen me? Outside, with stacks of money?

I quickly gathered it all up and brought it inside. I closed the shades and laid the pack out on the kitchen table. I dumped all the money out and inspected the pack. I found nothing identifying the owner or any other telling information on the pack.

I then counted the money. There were stacks of hundreds held together with rubber bands. After inspecting I determined these stacks held one hundred, hundred dollar bills. Ten thousand dollars per stack.

I laid out the stacks and counted them, twenty two stacks. I then counted the loose currency.

The grand total, two hundred and thirty thousand – eight hundred and twenty dollars. Oh my god. I was nervous and excited too. I had never seen near this much cash in person before.

I got to thinking. I need to call Mike. What is my legal responsibility I wondered? I was eight digits into calling him when I hung up. What if he told me I had to give it up?

I kept thinking. And then I thought of the drug dealer Mike spoke about the other night. Could somehow he have hidden the money under my house? That didn’t seem likely or logical, but what other explanation was there?

I knew I should tell Mike but there is a greedy side to me. Now, I had the money. It was mine. The moment I hand it over I knew I’d never see it again.

I was contemplating all this when surprisingly Melanie showed up. She’s home early on a Friday afternoon. Silently I hear her shuffling around, coming through the door. No call of greeting to me.

She walked into the kitchen, saw all this money, and stops.

“What is all this?” She asked. “Where did it come from?”

When I look at her and there was an excited look in her eyes. It is a look I had not seen from her in quite some time.

“Mel, you’re not going to believe this” I said.

I look at her, she still has that excited gaze in her eyes, staring at the pile of money. Then she looks at me, as if to say, ‘go on’.

“So I was out in the backyard working on the deck,” I tell her and she nods, “and I noticed one of the foundation vents open,” I go on, I doubt she even knew we had foundation vents.

I then told her about finding the backpack and discovering the money. I hadn’t told her previously about the drug house around the corner. And for some reason I didn’t tell her now either.

“There’s two hundred and thirty thousand dollars here.” I tell Melanie.

“Oh my god!” She gushes, “This is fantastic. What are we going to buy? What are we going to do?” She’s saying, staring at the money.

“Melanie, first off,” I say, “before we do anything we are going to need to think about all this. Let’s wait a while, just to make sure we’re safe.” I say.

“Safe?” She questions, “safe from what? And wait how long?” She further asks.

I tell her we need to wait a year or so before we do anything with this money.

She’s nodding her head but I am unclear how much of what I’m saying she’s absorbing. She just keeps staring at the money.

In the meantime I take the money and the pack in to my office. I have an old heavy gray metal file cabinet. The top drawer is lockable. I put the entire contents in that near empty top drawer and lock it.

Melanie’s got some energy all of a sudden. She’s excited and more affectionate than she has been in months. She talks about trips we could take, and cars we could buy. I’m glad she’s happy but I try to temper all that spending enthusiasm.

I tell her we need to wait before we start dipping into the money. Once some time goes by we can plan on what we may do with the money.

Even though I’m being the voice of reason, I’m excited too.

I remember one Christmas when I was little. There was this one big gift wrapped up in gold paper with a red ribbon. It was for me. My parents made me wait and open it last. I didn’t even recall the gift that Christmas but I did remember the thrill of waiting, anticipating opening the big present.

I felt a little like that, thinking about the money, knowing we could not spend it yet, but anticipating what we may be able to do with it at some point if we’re able to keep it.

And to be honest I was already mentally spending some of the money. My thoughts were more centered around how I could fix up the house, what remodeling projects we could do to improve the house.

Nonetheless, Mel was happy for the moment. That night we made love, for the first time in what seemed like a long time. The found money had energized her.

The good mood stretched into Saturday. I was getting affectionate smiles, friendly touches and a positive attitude from Mel. I had not seen this type of behavior from her since before I had shut down my office,

“So honey,” Melanie asked later that Saturday, “isn’t half the money legally mine?”

“Melanie,” I said with a hint of exasperation in my voice, “the money is both of ours. But we agreed to wait on doing anything with the money. Okay?” I added.

She didn’t really answer me. She just walked up and gave me a big kiss. That made me happy. So happy I didn’t really notice that she hadn’t quite agreed with what I had said.

In the coming days and weeks the positivity of our relationship continued. Our love life improved too. I even got a rare post-wedding blow job. Things were much more like the early days of our relationship.

I told myself that perhaps the idea of this financial windfall had taken the pressure off Mel at work and that was allowing her to be more relaxed and positive about her life and our relationship.

A few weeks later I received a phone call from Isaac.

“JD,” he greeted me, “we have an IT boot camp on campus starting a week from Wednesday. It’s normally only for direct employees but I have a couple of spots to fill.” He told me, “And you’d be paid your day rate.” He told me.

It sounded good. In the tech industry you had to stay current or you can be quickly left behind. This would be helpful.

It sounded like there was a group dinner Tuesday night. Everyone stayed at the Bellevue Marriott. We then went all day Wednesday and Thursday. Another dinner Thursday night and then a morning session Friday.

I told Melanie about the boot camp and she seemed uncharacteristically interested. I reviewed with her the days I’d be gone. Though I was only going to be thirty odd miles away, I’d be in a hotel for three nights away from home.

Melanie’s positive attitude if anything improved in the days before my boot camp. I was happy she was happy, but there was a small part of me that was curious about this attitude change.

I attended the camp and it was very beneficial. During the time I was in Bellevue I had spotty communication with Melanie.

On Friday afternoon I returned from the Microtec boot camp

and noticed Melanie’s car in the garage. I called to her as I entered our house. No reply.

I glanced around the house, all seemed in order, everything was neat. For a moment I gazed out the new French doors on to the nearly deconstructed deck. I started reviewing my next steps on this project.

Wait a minute, where was Melanie?

I ran up the stairs and went into our bedroom. Melanie was in bed. Alone. The lights were off.

“Mel?” I said. “Are you asleep?” I whispered.

“I’m awake,” she softly said to me.

“What are you doing? Why aren’t you at work?” I asked her.

At this point it’s still dark in our room and she is on the bed, under the covers, facing away from me.

“I took a few days off work.” She quietly tells me.

I pause then ask her, “Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine. I mean I’m in some pain but everything is fine.” She says to me.

At this point I’m confused about what’s going on.

“Don’t be mad at me.” She says.

Mad, I think, what am I going to be mad about.

“JD, I had to do it. I know I wasn’t supposed to, but I had to.” She tells me. “Please don’t be mad.” She says.

And with that she turns on the bedside lamp and turns toward me. Her eyes are swollen and blackened and she has a bandage across her nose covering a splint.

“What happened?” I ask concerned.

After a moment she says, “I got a nose job. JD, you said you wouldn’t be mad.” She adds.

“What, how,” I stutter I’m confused at first.

Slowly I start to understand.

“Did you use the found money?” I ask her.

She doesn’t answer me at first. There are several seconds of silence. Finally she admits she took twenty thousand dollars out of the found money stash and had the procedure done.

“JD, honey,” she says, “I promise I won’t take any more money until you say so. This is it. I had to do this, it just means so much to me.” She begs my forgiveness.

It could have been a huge fight. But I thought through it. I couldn’t undo what she had done. There was no point in getting angry. I made her promise to leave the rest of the money alone. And she promised.

As I walked back downstairs I felt an overwhelming emotion. Disappointment. I felt she broke her word. I thought she put her superficial desires before our marriage. Yeah, I was disappointed.

Over the next few weeks things were fairly positive. Melanie had an appointment with her surgeon to remove the splint and bandages.

When I first saw her I was shocked. I had always loved Melanie’s looks. Oval face, long dark hair, high cheekbones and an attractive complexion. I thought her pronounced nose gave her character.

But now, after the surgery this was something different. She was beautiful. Classically beautiful. She truly did look like a fashion model or a movie star. She looked that good. No exaggeration.

“The doctor told me it will still be a few more weeks for things to heal.” She told me. “He told me I was one of his best patients he’d ever had.” She said with a smile.

“Mel,” I said. “You look great.” I told her.

I was happy for her. But I was perfectly happy before. I wondered how this may change our lives.

There was certainly a small insecure voice in my head whispering ‘how long is a woman who looks like that going to be happy with a nerd like you?’

Over the next several months things were good. Melanie’s face healed and the results were outstanding. When I said she was beautiful, she truly was.

When we would go out to dinner or even just the grocery store, she got looks, and not only from men. Women eyed her too. I also noticed her noticing all this new attention too.

During these first few months after the surgery our sex life was good. We made love several times per week. I felt like the sex was a reassurance of her feelings for me. At these moments I was proud of Melanie and happy that I had this beautiful woman for my wife.

Looking back I wasn’t exactly sure when things began to change. Melanie had always been the one in charge in our relationship for the most part. It was mostly her ideas how we decorated the house. She decided where we went on vacation. It was her choice what restaurant we went to. These type of minor decisions.

She had been driving the car and I was in the passenger seat. She was steering and I was along for the ride, figuratively. But we were doing it together.

Now, ever so subtly, it felt like she was now driving solo. I was left on the curb to watch her drive away. I know these are melodramatic analogies, but that’s how it felt.

It started with work events. Conferences, meetings and client dinners. Certainly she had participated in these types of things before, but the frequency increased to three or more nights per week.

And these events now seemed less like the grind of an advertising campaign. Now more like a social occasion. I wondered if the new and improved Melanie was now on display for McClatchy-Reed.

One evening she arrived home at a more reasonable time.

“Oh JD!” She exclaimed, “I have good news.” She told me.

“Harrison wants to talk with me.” She said. “We’re having lunch together tomorrow.”

Harrison was Harrison Locke, the executive Vice President in charge of client services. This was the division that Melanie had longed to be part of.

“That’s great,” I said. But I wondered if this good news would end up being something that was good for me too?

The following day I was curious how her lunch with Locke went. I made dinner and assumed she would be home sometime around six PM.

By seven-thirty I had eaten by myself and her dinner was most likely going to end up as my lunch tomorrow. It was nine-forty five by the time she got home.

She breezed in, her makeup a little smeared, and she looked as if maybe she’d had a glass or two of wine. I expected a detailed report on her meeting, but she didn’t immediately offer this.

Finally I asked.

“So how did the lunch meeting go?” I asked.

She hesitated for a moment. “Oh, yes, it actually went quite well.” She told me, a slight smile appearing on her face.

But that was all she said. Normally she would ramble on for several minutes giving me the details.

“Mel!” I said, “what happened. You’ve wanted to get on the client side for years and now you meet with the head of that department and all you tell me is, ‘it went well’?”

She sighed and gave me more detail. Harrison didn’t have a full time position at this time in his department. He had noticed her positive interaction of late with some of the clients she came in contact with.

He wanted to get her on his team. What Harrison proposed was for her to work directly with him in an associate’s role. Kind of his right-hand-person. This would also be a great training ground for her once a full time spot opened up.

“So what would this entail,” I asked a little concerned, “as far as your time commitment?”

She said she would need to be with Harrison a lot. That would include evening meetings and occasionally overnight travel.

I thought about all this. I trusted Melanie on most things, though the whole nose job-money thing still bothered me. But I didn’t think she had ever cheated on me.

On the other hand I got to thinking of the way she looked at Harrison years ago in that bar down by my old office. And that they would be out at night together and at times overnight together in another city. I was bothered.

“Mel,” I said “this is something you and I really need to discuss.”

She turned and stared at me. I didn’t like the look in her eyes. It was difficult to make her newly sculpted face look negative, but she managed to do so.

“Discuss!?” She replied. “What’s to discuss? This is a great opportunity to work with a Vice President. I will learn so much, this is invaluable for my career. And I’m finally in the division where I was meant to be.” She stated.

“Melanie,” I said now softly and carefully, “But this schedule could affect our lives.” I told her with sincerity.

“We’ll be fine.” She replied dismissively.

And with that she headed upstairs. No further discussion.

I sat for a while downstairs at the kitchen table. I tried to talk myself in to believing that this was a good thing and it will all turn out well.

I wasn’t very successful.

Over the next few weeks she transitioned in to working with Harrison. She was rarely home until the mid evening.

I have to say she was in a much better mood most of the time now. Gone was that black cloud of workplace frustration. She seemed far happier.

Unfortunately the happiness didn’t seem to have anything to do with me. If someone were to paint a portrait of us as a couple, Melanie’s image would be sharp, vibrant and detailed. Mine would be faded and you may have to squint to recognize me in the portrait. I was overshadowed.

One Friday she came home and told me that she had to go to Chicago for two days the following week.

I asked her about the trip and she said it was a meeting with a potential new client that McClatchy was trying to solicit. I asked her who was all going and she was vague, but stated several people including Harrison.

I knew this part of her job would emerge and I also knew I’d have to get used to it. But at the moment I didn’t like the thought of her in a different city, overnight. With Harrison nearby.

The first night she was in Chicago we did speak on the phone, but briefly. That night I woke with the strangest image in the middle of the night. It wasn’t a dream but more like the flash of a picture fresh to memory in my brain.

In the image Harrison Locke was on top of Melanie, fucking her. I saw her thighs accepting him, I saw his plunging movement and her rising to meet him. I saw the muscular leanness of his thighs and ass. And I saw the writhing passion in Melanie’s face as she accepted his cock.

No, I did not have a raging hard-on with these thoughts. I was disturbed. It just felt so real. Eventually I fell back asleep but unlike other dreams I’ve had where the image fades, this one stayed vivid.

Once she was back the last thing I was going to do was tell her about the dream, but I did note something seemed off. It was rare we did much together anymore and she was gone all the time.

One night I scheduled a date night and we had dinner at La Provence, a nice French restaurant downtown. I planned the evening, dress nicely and was groomed for the night.

Melanie was pleasant but part of the time she was looking at things on her phone, distracted. When I tried to have any type of a serious discussion about our relationship it went nowhere.

After a nice dinner like this, sex is the natural progression of the evening. And we did have sex, but there was little passion on Melanie’s part despite extensive foreplay on my end. It felt like she was doing me a favor.

Over the next few weeks she was home less and less. The evenings out were frequent and it was often after ten PM when she would return.

One night Isaac and I planned on going out to a bar near the old office that we liked. I met him there and we talked about work mostly, but a little about our lives.

“I need to find a girlfriend.” Isaac stated. “You’re lucky, married to a hot woman like Melanie.” He added.

I stared off into space thinking about what Isaac had said. Was I lucky? And what Melanie and I were doing was hardly a normal married life. I barely saw her. Sex was infrequent.

“JD!?” He said, “you zoned out there for a moment. Is everything all right?” He asked.

“Yeah, it’s okay I guess.” I said. “Just going through a rough patch with Melanie I guess.” I added.

“What’s going on?” He asked.

And I gave him the whole rundown, all the details. That is all the details except anything about the money. That I dared not mention.

Isaac was a good friend and he listened and encouraged me. I appreciated it.

At home when I wasn’t working I continued to work around the house. The French doors were in and the deck was almost done. It looked really good. This work for me was therapeutic. It helped balance out the challenges in my marriage.

A week or so after my drink with Isaac he called me.

“JD,” He said. “Can you meet me at Laurelwood in Pioneer Square?” He asked.

When I asked what was up, he just said I needed to be there.

Isaac was waiting outside when I got there.

Isaac told me he had a date from Match and they had met at Laurelwood. The date went nowhere, she was approximately eighty pounds heavier than her Match photo showed, he explained.

Isaac told me he noticed a large group that showed up at the bar. Melanie was part of the group, and she was hanging all over some tall good looking dude. They were still there. They were so involved Melanie didn’t even notice Isaac.

Normally I’m not confrontational by nature, but all the marital stress I was under had me on edge. And to hear that Melanie was ‘hanging all over some dude’, had me pissed.

We walked in. I saw them immediately. It was like a scene from that ridiculous show ‘The Bachelor’. All the women beautiful, tan, and sexy. All the guys, buff, two days growth of beards and shiny white teeth. The new Melanie fit right in.

And Isaac was right, Locke had his arm around Melanie and she was tucked right into his side. They looked like a couple.

I walked up to their table, no one even noticed me until I spoke.

“Hi Melanie.” I said, maybe a decibel or two louder that normal.

She saw me and was silent for a brief second. She moved away from Locke, but he kept his arm around her.

“What are you doing here?” She asked. Her expression far from welcoming.

“Isaac and I decided to get a drink,” I said. “And this seems like a nice place. How’s the food?” I asked, glancing around at the others in their group for their opinion. My voice slightly louder than it needed to be.

Their entire fun loving party seemed to have sobered up. No one spoke.

Finally Locke spoke. “Melanie.” Was all he said. But the meaning was clear. Take care of this…. interruption.

She grabbed my arm and pulled me away from their group.

“What are you doing?” She hissed. “We are in the middle of a client meeting. This is important!” She added with emphasis.

“You and good old Harrison seem awfully chummy,” I replied.

“Oh get over it,” she replied in an urgent whisper. “Now, I’ll be home later, we need to finish up.” And with that, she went back to the group.

Isaac and I left. As I was driving home the words from an old ELO song began running through my head. ‘You want to stay out with your fancy friends I’m telling you it’s gotta be the end,’

I couldn’t get the song out of my head.That seemed to be the perfect way to sum up what we had observed tonight. Melanie was now part of the in-crowd. She acted like I was embarrassing her by showing up. Well fuck her, I thought. She was supposed to be my wife.

This lead to several days of marital silence where we never actually discussed the events at Laurelwood.

She would come home later and later. I was now almost always in bed by the time she got home. She was barely living at our house anymore. And needless to say, there was no sex.

A week or so later my cousin Mike Fairchild invited me out for a drink at The Norsemen, Thursday night. That morning, unusually, Melanie and I had breakfast together. I told her I was getting a beer that night with Mike. She noted this but didn’t seem to care.

Mike and I talked about sports, family, my job, his job until finally he asked me what was going on. He could tell I wasn’t quite myself.

“It’s Melanie.” I told him. “She’s got a new position at work and she’s spending a lot of time with her boss, who by the way is handsome, confident and successful.” I added.

Mike had never been a real Melanie fan, I knew that, but to his credit there was nothing even remotely like ‘I told you so’ in his comments.

After our second beer Mike said he had an early day, I told him I would finish my beer and head out shortly. I guess I just wasn’t in any type of hurry to get home.

As I sat and thought about my situation I had a third beer, for some reason they were going down easy tonight. After my fourth I called an Uber. It showed 20 minutes till pickup, so uncharacteristically I had one more.

The Uber pulled up and I kind of chugged the remaining third of the beer. I wasn’t drunk, but I was definitely buzzed. My plan was to walk the couple of miles back to The Norsemen to pick up my car in the morning.

I was a little surprised to see Melanie’s car at our home, it wasn’t even nine PM. I also saw a black Range Rover parked directly in front of my house at the curb.

What I was more surprised to see was Harrison Locke in my living room.

Suddenly, and it was probably fueled by the alcohol, I was pissed. It was one thing for Melanie and Locke to be together all day and evening working ostensibly. It was quite another thing to have him sitting in my living room.

I think I surprised them.

“JD, I thought you were going to be out tonight,” Melanie said standing up quickly.

Locke stood up and offered me his hand to shake I ignored him and stared at Melanie.

“What the fuck’s he doing here in my house?” I pointed my thumb towards Locke and asked.

“JD, don’t be an ass.” She said. “Harrison is my boss and a friend. We were just discussing some business.” She added.

At that point I was not only angry, I was half drunk. And they could probably figure that out by the way I was walking and talking. I moved to get past them and to my office. I knew in the mood I was in it would best to be in a different room, I just wanted to be alone.

I’m sure there was a bit of a stagger as I headed to my office.

Harrison, nobly, trying to steady me, reached for my arm. In my anger I shrugged his arm away and he stumbled to one knee.

For the moment I was kind of proud I knocked the big man down. And then Melanie reached for me.

“JD,” she cried.

I didn’t want her anywhere near me either at this point. I shrugged my left arm catching Melanie off balance. I suppose I was a little too emphatic shrugging Melanie off. She was probably surprised by my actions too. I didn’t normally act this aggressively.

But the combination of my emphatic shrug, her surprise and her being off balance, sent her flying back. Her head caught the corner of the side table. She fell, stunned.

I was surprised at first, frozen, and then I moved to go to her, to comfort her. I had never approached Melanie aggressively before. Or any other woman for that matter. That wasn’t my nature, but the beer and the emotion created a perfect storm. Her forehead was now bleeding.

As I tried to get to her, half drunk and off balance, two large muscular arms bear hugged me from behind. I was pinned.

“Call 911,” Locke told Melanie.

“Hang on,” I slurred. “Let me get her some ice. We can work this out.” I told them both.

Melanie stumbled to the kitchen, phone in hand, blood now on her face. I struggled to get loose from Locke but he was far too strong.

I continued to plead with him to let me help her but he remained silent with steady pressure pinning me immobile.

Within, what seemed like minutes the cops and an ambulance showed up. This was ridiculous. They were making a mountain out of a molehill.

Melanie, a reddening towel to her forehead, answered the door. The next thing I knew my hands were handcuffed behind my back and a policeman with hand atop my head was maneuvering me into the backseat of his police car.

I sat there wondering how I ended up in this situation. Silent tears ran down my face. I was sad and upset about my marriage and what I had done to Mel. I felt sorry for myself.

I lost track of time. It could have been ten minutes or an hour but eventually the policeman returned.

“Where am I going?” I asked the cop.

“Sir,” he answered. “You are going to jail.”

I hadn’t thought I could feel worse than when I was sitting in the back of a police car, on my street, neighbors peeking out their windows, in front of my house, lights flashing. But now knowing I was going to jail I actually did feel worse. This was a low point in my life.

After several hours of being processed I found myself in a jail cell at the King County Correctional Facility. I was exhausted. I managed to doze off intermittently but I would jolt awake after what seemed like only a few minutes, mentally beating myself up over the situation I was now in.

In what must have been the middle of the night or maybe early in the morning. I had a visitor. My cousin, the assistant district attorney, Mike Fairchild.

“The last time I saw you,” he told me through the gloom of the cell, “you looked relaxed and slightly buzzed. What happened?” He asked.

My relief at finally seeing a friendly face was too much. I broke down and wept. I then proceeded to tell Mike what happened after I left The Norsemen.

“Man JD,” He said. “They take domestic violence seriously here. There is a mandatory arrest and incarceration even before anything is proven. Yours would probably be classified as a misdemeanor, but still they can order a fine of up to a thousand dollars and a year in jail.” He explained.

“A year!?” I asked.

“Look, let me see what I can do.” He told me. “Hang in there, I’ll be back in a little bit.”

Several hours later Mike was back. He somehow had facilitated my release. We went to his condo. Mike wasn’t married and no specific girlfriend at the time.

“For now,” he said, “you stay here, use the spare bedroom.”

“But, I need to talk to Mel,” I exclaimed. “I need to apologize. Maybe we can sit down and work out our problems. I need to call her.” I told him.

Palms out pointed down he gave me the slow-down gesture.

“Listen JD, for now, don’t try to talk to Melanie.” He said. “I’m hearing she may follow through on pressing charges.” He told me.

“What? No, that can’t be right. She’s my wife. She wouldn’t do that!” I exclaimed.

“That’s not all.” Mike said. “I’m also hearing there may be a restraining order.” He told me.

I buried my face in my hands and just shook my head from side to side. How could things get so negative so fast.

“Look JD, give me a list of things you need from your house. Clothes, laptop, toiletries etc. I’ll go get your stuff and for now, you’re staying here.” Mike told me.

“My house!” I nearly shouted. “She can’t keep me out of MY house.” I said.

“Actually,” Mike replied, “she can. But let’s not worry about all that right now. Give me your list, I’ll get your stuff, and we’ll work on sorting everything else out when we get more information.” Mike told me.

He left and I immediately took a shower, put back on my worn clothes from yesterday, and thought.

I was sure if I just had a few minutes to talk with Melanie we could work this all out. I know, of late our relationship had been a little rough, but, she was my wife! We had been through so much together. A minor alcohol fueled stumble wasn’t the end of the world.

Mike had told me not to contact Mel, but I convinced myself a simple conversation was all it would take to get back to something more like normal.

Finally, after several hours of an internal debate I called her.

It did not go well.

I was actually slightly surprised she answered.

“Melanie, honey,” I said, “I am so sorry you bumped your head. It was just an accident, all my fault. Are you okay?” I asked.

For a few seconds, there was silence, and then she answered.

“Bumped my head!?” She replied. “I had to get stitches. And an accident!? You attacked both me and Harrison.” She added.

“Oh Mel,” I said placatingly, “it wasn’t that bad.”

“Listen, I’m busy,” she said. “I shouldn’t be talking to you anyway.” She told me.

“Mel….,” I started to reply, but she had hung up.

That really didn’t go well. She hadn’t given me a chance to explain. I really believed that an honest and open conversation between the two of us could sort things out. Maybe at that point we could talk about some kind of counseling.

Mike stopped back by the condo with my clothes, laptop, etc.

“Did you see Mel at the house?” I asked.

He shook his head, no.

“I didn’t see anyone, but there was a black Range Rover parked out front.” He told me.

Fucking Locke’s car. Had to be. Was it there all night? I thought harder about how close Locke and Mel’s relationship was?

Twice more I tried to call Melanie that afternoon. Both times it went to voice mail. My need to talk to her, to explain, and to try to make things right again was strong. This was all such a silly blown up misunderstanding.

Mike had a date that night and I found myself alone in his condo. It wasn’t late but it was dark out. I decided to just drive by my house. If it looked like Melanie was there, maybe I could just stop for a few minutes.

I had to walk to The Norsemen to get my car from last nights outing. That all seemed so long ago, my life had been turned upside down in the past 24 hours.

I drove slowly in to my neighborhood. Turning the corner I saw the light color of Melanie’s car in the driveway. Good, maybe a few words will clear all this up. I was feeling vaguely optimistic for the moment. And then I saw the black Range Rover parked at the curb. Locke.

I crept past the house, shades were down, I saw nothing else. I considered another pass but the last thing I needed was some neighborhood busybody reporting a suspicious vehicle cruising the street.

Down the street was a church and I thought from the southern edge of that parking lot I would have a view of the front of my house. I parked and waited. Nothing happened, but I remained watching.

The events of the previous night, the emotion and lack of sleep caught up with me. One minute I was focused on the black SUV in front of my house, the next minute I was sound asleep.

I awoke with a jolt. I looked back down the street, black car still there. I checked my watch, one forty AM. Okay there could be a number of explanations for his car still there, but I knew the most likely one.

He was fucking my wife. The sexual image from the dream I had was still vivid in my mind. For a brief second I thought of bursting in and confronting them.

Fortunately I realized that was not the correct course of action. I drove back to Mike’s.

The next morning Mike was there when I emerged from the spare bedroom.

“Where were you last night?” He asked, staring me in the eye.

“Um, I walked back to the bar to get my car,” I told him.

He stared at me over the rim of his coffee cup.

“That’s all?” He asked. “You’re staying away from Melanie aren’t you?”

I nodded that I was. He kept looking at me silently questioning my answer. A short time later he left.

I only tried Melanie twice during the day. Straight to voicemail each time. Fortunately I was able to bury myself in Microtec work throughout the day. Working was therapeutic. It helped keep my mind of my problems.

That night an idea crept into my brain. I knew where the parking garage was for McClatchy. I knew she normally got to work right at eight o’clock AM. I knew if I could just talk to her we could work things out and start on a road back to a better marriage.

The next morning I was waiting in the mezzanine opposite the elevators to her office. Eight-twenty and no sign of Melanie yet. But all of a sudden I see the angular form of Harrison Locke.

“Harrison,” I say.

He turns with a practiced welcoming smile and then he realized it was me that greeted him. His open palm retracts and he stops in place, hands on hips.

“What are YOU doing here?” He asks, a half smile mockingly on his face.

“I need to talk to Melanie. The other night was a misunderstanding, an accident.” I tell him.

He’s slowly shaking his head back and forth negatively.

“Uh uh.” He says. “That is not a good idea. My advice to you is to get a lawyer and work things through the proper channels.” He adds.

I’m standing there stunned. Lawyer? Why would I need a lawyer I thought.

As I stand in the mezzanine Locke looks at me, appraising, that same half smirk on his face. He seems in no hurry to leave, enjoying my discomfort.

He shakes his head, takes a step towards the elevator and then stops and turns back to me.

“How did a guy like you,” he pauses as he looks me up and down, “ever get a woman like Melanie?”

He chuckles briefly on his way to push the up button on the elevator. I just stand there drenched in my humiliation.

The answer to the question of my needing a lawyer is answered quickly that afternoon. By special delivery I was messaged an harassment restraining order. I looked at the document, stunned. Then I read through it.

I was forbidden to be within one hundred feet of Melanie, her work, places she normally frequents (there’s a list), and her home. HER HOME! That’s my home! The HRO (harassment restraining order) cited my address, 5718 Maple Avenue.

I read through the document and see terms like “repeated intrusions”, “unwanted acts”, and “endangerment of sense of security”. I now know I do need a lawyer. The stakes have just been raised.

I call Mike and he says he’ll be home shortly. He told me to calm down, and that we’d develop a plan.

First thing Mike did was give me the name of a family law lawyer, Darren King. Mike said he was a no nonsense guy, fairly expensive, and good at his job. Mike had told King’s office that I would call him tomorrow.

Mike read through the HRO. After a minute he looked up from the document across the table toward me.

“Did you try to call her?” he asked, and then “did you go to her place of employment!?” He asked a little more urgently.

“I just thought if I could talk to her, we’d be able to straighten things out.” I quietly told him.

He’s already shaking his head in the negative.

“Didn’t I tell you to stay away?” Mike says, and I don’t reply.

He warns me about anything that could be construed as stalking. I agree, I’ll stay away I tell him.

We spend some time talking about my case. What I should expect and what Darren King will ask of me.

Mike doesn’t have anything to do with divorce law, but he does give me a fairly harsh idea of what I may expect in the coming days and weeks. I wonder if my marriage is over. And then I began the process of wondering if that matters any more.

We moved on from the stressful and negative subject we had just been discussing. Our conversation drifts elsewhere.

“Hey,” he says, “sounds like Damon Abernathy may get out on parole.” He tells me.

“Who?” I ask. I had no idea what he was talking about.

“You know, the guy selling drugs in your neighborhood a year or so ago.” He explained. “I told you about him, didn’t I?” Mike says.

I stare off into space contemplating this information. My mind immediately goes to the money in the backpack. It almost certainly belonged to the guy getting out of jail. I really hadn’t thought of all the ramifications of what could happen once he got out. He’s going to want that money back, for sure. Could we be in any actual danger? I sat for a few more moments thinking through the situation.

“You okay?” Mike asked, looking at me with a puzzled expression on his face.

I guess I was acting odd, nervous and guilty, thinking about the money and the drug dealer.

“Yeah, yeah,” I told him with a forced smile on my face.

Mike was still looking at me suspiciously.

For the moment we drop the subject of drug dealer Damon Abernathy, soon to be a free man.

Throughout the evening we talked about a variety of subjects including my marriage and legal problems. As much as I wanted to hear more about the subject of Damon Abernathy and his upcoming release from jail, for the moment it was not discussed. I waited.

Finally my need to understand more about what may happen in regards to the money and the drug dealer got the better of me. I casually brought the subject up with Mike.

“This drug dealer,” I casually asked, “when’s he supposed to be out?”

Mike checked his phone.

“Let’s see. Okay here it is, Abernathy, Damon.” Mike said scrolling through some kind of document he had. “Looks like he’s scheduled to be released Wednesday.”

“This Wednesday?” I ask.

Mike still looking at his phone answers.

“Yeah, Wednesday June second,” he replies. “The Wednesday after Memorial Day.”

“Anything else on him,” once again I ever so casually inquire.

“Hmmm,” Mike’s studying his phone, reading something.

“The parole report says he’s applied for residency in Mississippi,” Mike tells me reading something from his phone.

“The report states he needs to be in Seattle for a few days and then has requested an allowance to move to Mississippi. He says he’s going to work with his uncle in some type of car repair business.” Mike adds.

“Will the parole people let him move?” I ask.

“Probably.” Mike says. “Any time we can rid of this type of guy, we want too.” He tells me.

And then all of a sudden he stops, and looks at me.

“Why all the questions about this drug dealer?” He’s eyeing me.

I shrug, as if, no big deal just asking.

“Forget everything I told you, I shouldn’t have said anything.” Mike says.

I give the sign of zipping my lips, but I’m thinking. I have a pretty good idea what he wants to do for those few days before he moves to Mississippi. Suddenly I’m worried.

— — — — — — — — — —

Damon sat in his cell. For once in his life, he thought, something had gone right. He stood before them and told them he was a changed man. He told them about working with Uncle Bishop at the body shop in Hattiesburg.

He was worried that the problem with those two gangbangers after he first got transferred would come up. Damon thought the guards knew it was him that fucked them up. But sounds like nobody said anything. Good.

One thing Damon promised himself, he was never going back to any joint. From now on, he thought, I’m staying away from drugs, gangs and crime. He was going to have a normal straight life. He promised himself. But If something ever happened, where the po-lice came after him again, he told himself, he’d run this time. Never going back, he thought.

Sitting in his cell Damon thought about his plan. I’m going to get me my money from under that house, 5718, he remembered. He’d then walk down to the bus station and take the bus to Jackson. It left at nine fifteen Thursday morning. Two hundred and twenty six dollars and eighty cents. Damon had done the research.

Now just a few more days he thought, and then I get out of this shit hole.

— — — — — — — — — —

I had a restless night. I got little sleep. I kept thinking about the money, the drug dealer, the twenty thousand Melanie had spent, and that backpack in my office. One plan I thought up was to use my own savings and replace the twenty thousand. Then put the backpack back under the house.

But I wasn’t even allowed to be near my house. If I tried to sneak in and Melanie or even Harrison caught me, I’d be in violation of the restraining order. I don’t need anymore legal trouble now. And then my mind started wandering down that pathway, my crumbling marriage, domestic violence charges, and Harrison Locke sleeping with my wife.

That Thursday morning I called right at eight and got a nine thirty appointment with Darren King, the divorce lawyer that same day. I was given a list of documents to bring.

King was a little intimidating. Strong jawed, piercing eyes, all business. I noticed a photo in his office of him in uniform. Ex-military.

One of the documents I provided to King was the legal document that Melanie and I had signed before we were married. King read through it.

“You signed this?” He asked still studying the document.

“Yes, the lawyer we used said that if she has interest in my house and I have interest in her parents vacation house, it would protect the children.” I told him.

He looked up at me abruptly.

“You have children!?” He asked.

“No,” I explained. “He said it would protect any future children.” I told him.

“This lawyer you used ought to be dis-barred.” King said.

I explained that even though she had interest in my house, I had interest in her parent’s vacation home, that was worth a fortune.

He’s shaking his head in the negative.

“Here’s the problem with that logic,” King told me. “You own and have possession of your house. What I see in this document is that she will ‘likely’ inherit the family vacation home. But today it’s owned 100% by her parents.”

“Are you saying, I may lose my house?” I asked, a shiver of panic running through my body.

“To be honest,” he says, “I don’t know. But you let me worry about that. The domestic violence charge doesn’t help our case. I’m going to talk to her attorney, see what we can come up with.” He added.

He stood up abruptly, shook my hand, and told me he’d be in touch. That was it.

As I walked out of King’s building I thought about my lawyer. Certainly not warm and friendly, but the type of guy you’d definitely want in the foxhole next to yours.

All day Thursday I had a jumble of thoughts. I was not very productive for Microtec. I kept thinking about losing my house, the drug dealer, my failing marriage, that backpack full of money, and Locke and Melanie together.

Shortly afternoon I get a call from my cousin Mike. He’s checking in on me.

“How’d the meeting with Darren King go?” He asks.

I tell him and we talk about my mounting problems. Not a word to Mike about the money.

At the end of our conversation Mike gives me another piece of information.

“Sounds like our boy Abernathy is being released next Wednesday, for sure.” Mike tells me. “I was down at the jail today and heard something else about this guy.” He goes on.

“What?” I ask, maybe a little too anxiously.

Mike pauses, and says, “apparently when he first got in he was approached by two tough gangbangers. There were no witnesses but the reports I heard was Abernathy nearly killed them both, barehanded. Sounds like one dangerous motherfucker.”

My blood pressure is now through the roof. Now, at my house, is the money owned by a vicious drug dealer, and he’s getting out of prison in a few days.

Mike and I get off the phone and my thoughts are swirling. I need to develop a plan. The problem is I need Melanie to be on board with the plan and currently she’s not only not talking to me, legally I’m not supposed to be anywhere near her.

I sit at Mike’s kitchen table not even pretending to work for Microtec. All these different scenarios are running through my head. The ending to almost all the scenarios is bad.

Finally I came to a conclusion. Here were my thoughts: even though Melanie and my marriage is likely over, and even though she is sleeping with Locke, and further, even though she may be living in my house of which I am now banned, she is my wife. We spent years together and she needs to know about this dangerous drug dealer. I decide this is the right thing to do.

I tried to call her several times, even once through the companies main line and asking for a transfer to her office. Nothing, no reply. I’m sure if she saw it was me she’d let it go to voice mail. I’ve left messages to call me back, telling her it was urgent.

Finally I decide to go over to our house, my house, and wait. I thought if I got there by six tonight, I could just wait until she got home. I know, I know, I’m in violation of the HRO, but I believe the urgency of the situation warrants the contact.

I was nervous driving to my house in my neighborhood. I needed this to go well with Melanie. I still had faint flickers of hope for our marriage. But we would need to really put some work into it. I was willing to do that. First though, we had to make sure we got the whole found money thing worked out.

When I turned the corner onto Maple I was surprised to see both Melanie and Locke’s car already there. I also saw some activity outside. Suddenly my heart starts racing, I figured I’d have some time to prepare for her arrival.

I pulled up and parked a couple of houses down. As I walked down the sidewalk I tried to look as non threatening as possible. That was not hard for me to do. But I did remember the drunken night when much of this started. I had a goal. I needed to talk to Melanie alone about the money. And she had to know the danger of Damon Abernathy.

One house away Locke notices me.

“Melanie,” he yells, summoning her from the house.

She walks out wheeling a suitcase down the driveway. When she sees me she stops. There is a look on abject negativity on her face. She is mad.

I now notice other luggage at Locke’s feet.

“You are in violation of your restraining order,” she shouts at me.

I turn back toward Melanie.

“Melanie, Mel,” I say, “I’ve got to talk to you. It’s important. Can we just have a few minutes in private?” I ask.

“Get the fuck out of here!” She is now furious and screaming at me.

“You fucking woman beating loser!” She screams. “I am going to take this house,” she points at my house, “I am going to press charges, and then I am divorcing you!” she yells.

“Mel,” I beg, “just give me a minute.”

“I don’t know what I ever saw in you.” She says, “you’re business failed, you whine all the time, and you’re lousy in bed.” She adds. “Get away from me!”

At that Locke steps toward me.

“Melanie,” he says calmly while looking at me, “let me take care of this. Go inside, this won’t be long.” He tells her.

I’m stunned, this could not have gone worse, and now Locke’s approaching me.

“I’ve got to talk to Melanie,” I say to Locke, “it’s extremely important.” I tell him, already looking past him toward the house and Melanie.

“Listen pal,” Locke says to me.

He has one arm around my shoulders firm and on the border of painful, he’s leading me away from the house and Melanie.

“I’m going to tell you what’s going to happen here tonight.” He says, arm tightly around my shoulders, looking at me.

I say nothing.

“Number one you’re going to get in your car and go to wherever you live now. Number two, I’m going to load up Melanie and my luggage into my car and we are going to have a nice stress free long weekend away from here.”

I’m straining to turn around and see if I can get to Melanie, but Locke’s grip is too strong.

“And then JD, during that long weekend, I’m going to fuck your wife. Over and over.” He says.

His obscene words shock me and I turn and look at him.

“Finally, when we get back I’m going to move in to your house, but it will soon be our house, that is Melanie and my house. I really like it. You did a nice job of fixing it up,” he tells me. “I really have been enjoying the new deck. I’m surprised someone like you could do that nice a job.” He adds.

“Now,” he says, anger in his voice, “get the fuck out of here. Loser.”

And with that he shoves me back in the direction of my car.

I sit for a few minutes in my car stunned by Locke’s words. Melanie’s angry words too. I watch them loading luggage into his SUV.

I make a U turn and head back down the street the other way.

My mind is numb. What Melanie’s had said to me was so angry and insulting. And that fucking prick Locke talking about my house and my deck.

Suddenly I went from stunned and feeling sorry for myself to being angry. More pissed off than I have ever been. Mad at Locke certainly, but even more so, furious at Melanie.

It would serve them both right if the violent drug dealer took out his vengeance on the two of them I thought.

Wait a minute. Wait just a minute.

I suddenly had a thought. So strong were these thoughts I actually had to pull the car over and sit for a minute. I started developing a plan. An action plan.

As I sat on the side of the road in my car halfway back to Mike’s condo the outline of the plan materialized. Now I started filling in the details. I had to think of all the moves I needed to make. If this worked out, it could be perfect.

Finally driving the rest of the way back to the condo I thought about Melanie. Could I say I hated her? At this moment the answer to that question would be far closer to yes than no.

When I got to the condo Mike was there.

“Where’ve you been?” He asked with something slightly more than curiosity in his voice.

“Just running errands.” I tell him.

Obviously I can tell him nothing about Melanie and Locke. Especially now.

We discuss a little more my meeting with Darren King and then move on to more neutral subjects.

I hate keeping things from Mike, but now, with all he’s told me about Damon Abernathy, I really have to be careful. If my plan goes together the way I want, really all hell’s going to break loose, and Mike and I have to be far away from all of it.

“Sounds like you’re in a little better spirits tonight.” Mike says.

“Yeah,” I said, “working with Darren King and letting the pro’s handle things is really the right thing to do.” I say. “Thanks for all the help with all that. Well, I better get some sleep, early day tomorrow. Good night cuz.” I called to him.

It was still a little dark out when I pulled up to my house in Ballard. The black SUV was gone, as I expected. I walked up to the front porch as if I owned the place.

Which I did.

I put my key into the lock and… it wouldn’t open. What, I thought, and tried it again. I stood there for a moment. Then it struck me, that bitch had changed the locks! Fuck.

I walked back to my car. My plan went out the window. Fuck, this would’ve been so good. I took off heading down my street.

And then a thought crossed my mind. Did she do it? I bet she didn’t? I went completely around the block and parked once again in front of my house. This time I walked to the back yard.

I walked across my new deck, the deck that fucking Locke seemed to like so well. And then pulled out the key for the multipoint lock on the new French doors. Yes! That stupid bitch forgot about these doors.

In the house I was curious about its condition with Melanie and Locke living here, but I was on a mission. I quickly went in to the office. I got what I needed and left.

I drove back to Mike’s and sat in the parking garage. I was sweating, nervous and excited. So far, so good. Now I needed to wait till nine o’ clock. I had my route laid out.

I sat and waited. All of a sudden my phone buzzed. I nearly had a heart attack, it startled me.

It was Darren King.

“Quick update.” He told me. “Spoke to your wife’s lawyer. Nice guy, not a great lawyer.” He adds. “She’s going after the house. Not sure she can get it, but there’s a chance. It may get expensive.” He says.

I’m speechless. First off he surprised me with the call, but then the reality of possibly losing my house was shocking, I didn’t say a word.

“JD, just hang in there,” he tells me. “I will handle this. I’ve got a few ideas. Just wanted to keep you up to date.”

And with that, he hung up. I never said a word. My mission became all that more critical. At ten of nine I took off. Each stop took me roughly ten minutes. It was another ten minutes or so between stops.

I figured I’d have to do a little tomorrow. But that should all work.

Saturday afternoon, my running around completed, I now needed a couple of hours of privacy.

The gods must have felt sorry for me, my luck continued. As I was entering the condo Mike was exiting, golf clubs over his shoulder, dressed for the fairways.

He asks me if I want to play, but I beg off. He’ll be gone at least three hours, perfect.

I bring the old red backpack that I had retrieved from my house into the spare bedroom at the condo.

I had visited different banks all day Friday and part of the morning Saturday. I’d gone to twenty-two separate branches. At each bank I had cashed larger bills to get ninety-nine ones.

I now unbanded the stacks. I took out most of the hundreds in each stack and replaced them with one dollar bills. The stacks all looked the same but instead of ten thousand dollars in each stack, they would have approximately eleven hundred dollars.

And I now had a big wad of cash. Approximately one hundred and ninety thousand dollars worth of drug money. I hid it in my suitcase in the closet.

I still had things to do Sunday morning. Once again I was back at my house, early, still a little dark out, not quite morning.

First thing was to get back in the house and return the newly stacked bundles of cash to the filing cabinet. It all looked the same as before. It’s just that the stacks now were each a lot less money.

And then I opened the vent cover and climbed back under the house. Same dirty, dusty environment under the house, maybe a few more spiders than last time.