I’d like to thank BlackRandi for editing this. I made a few changes (and rejected a couple of Randi’s!) from the edited copy, so any remaining errors are on me.
It was surprisingly hard to get this one out, due to time constraints and an recent death in my (extended) family from COVID. It took me longer to get this one written and submitted than any other submission I’ve put out. I wish I could guarantee a once a month or more cadence on submissions, but I’m not sure I can do that, but I do intend to try to keep them going as long as I can. This is an old fashioned style, no sex included, LW submission, straight out of well traveled tropes from some of the greats of LW. The submission if original, though you’ll find almost every element has been done elsewhere. But then again, this type of story (and Butter Pecan, for the record) are my absolute favorite styles from other writers.
I hope that everyone notices one character lifted directly from a well known LW author’s standard character set.
So, enjoy (or not, if it’s too cliché)!
——–
Finding
It started, cliché beginning or not, the Tuesday I came home from work, on time, and there was a strange car in the driveway. What made it stranger was that my wife’s car should have been in the driveway, but was not. Instead, the strange car was in my wife’s spot. I was worried; everyone has always heard the stories, but not unduly so. Grabbing my briefcase, I got out of my car and looked at the strange light blue late-model econobox in the driveway. A quick glance through the window told me nothing, so I went in the house.
I put my briefcase down by the front door and walked into the family room, where Clara, my wife of eight years, was waiting. I took one look at her and everything became crystal clear. The tears running from Clara’s eyes told enough of the tale to make a good beginning. Her auburn hair was a mess, her makeup ruined.
“How…” I started, before she interrupted me.
“Oh god, Joe, I’m so sorry. It was an accident; I didn’t mean for it to happen.” She began to sob. I could see she wanted me to hold her, to tell her everything would be okay, but I couldn’t. I knew if I touched her, I could end up physically hurting her if I wasn’t careful, and with my heart trying to crawl through my throat, I doubted I could be careful enough.
“How…” I started again, before being interrupted again.
“From the rear. It hurt so bad, Joe. I’ve never felt that much pain.”
“Why…” and again she interrupted me, anticipating my question.
“I couldn’t talk to you. You wouldn’t, you couldn’t, hear me. I needed you so bad, and you weren’t there.”
“Who…” was all I got out in my next attempt.
“Tom. He stepped up and did the job. He took care of me. I just wish it had been you.” Tom is my closest, and oldest, friend.
“When?” was my first complete sentence since coming into the house.
“Lunchtime. And it was over so fast. I’m sorry, it was an accident, it’ll never happen again. Oh, God, it was all my fault, too.”
“But you’re going to be okay, right? I mean, you went to the hospital?” I finally took control of the conversation.
“Yes, baby, the doctors said I’ll be sore for a week and the wrist isn’t broken, it’s just a severe sprain.” She finally was appraising me of her physical condition, something I’d been worried about since I’d seen the air cast on her right arm. “I need a hug, but you have to be gentle. The airbags went off.”
I was at on the sofa beside her and took her, gently, into my arms. Soothing her as best I could, I asked “So how is it your fault when you were rear-ended?”
“The light was red, but I made my right turn. The woman driving the truck never had a chance to stop.”
“Is the car totaled?” I asked gently.
“Maybe. They don’t know yet. Oh, Joe, I couldn’t get you.” She sobbed as I held her and stroked her hair.
“I was on the manufacturing floor all day.” It was enough. She knew my phone didn’t work on the floor, that it would have been in an RFI lockbox (which we call ‘the garage’) while I was there; if I had been in my office, she could have gotten me on my work phone or my cell. My phone couldn’t even register missed calls from inside the lockboxes, so no, she couldn’t talk with me. Lucky that Tom had helped her at the hospital.
“So, is the blue car in the driveway a rental or a loaner?” was my next question.
“Rental. The insurance got it for us until they determine if the Audi is totaled or not, and if not, until it’s fixed.”
“But you’re okay, which is all that matters.” I told her, and just held her for a while.
It was almost a month before we got her Audi back from the collision repair company. Although she missed work the remainder of the week of the accident, she went back after the first weekend. After two days driving the rental, she asked to switch and drive my car, as her commute and driving was further. The rental did not have a GPS, and many of her client visits required her to use her built-in GPS to find the location. Like a good husband, I switched, so she could drive my Benz and I’d drive the econobox. By the time the collision repair said the Audi was done, I was anxious to get out of the rental, and we ended up picking up her car on a Tuesday, exactly five weeks after the accident. If it had been Friday or Saturday, it might have made a difference.
I was driving in to work the next morning when the phone rang. I glanced at mine, in the cup holder, to see who was calling, but my phone wasn’t ringing. Realizing that it must be Clara’s phone, mistakenly left in the car, I stuck my hand between the driver seat and the console and hit paydirt. Pulling out the phone one handed while still steering, I used the slide to accept function and then hit the speakerphone button on the screen.
“Hello. We’ve been trying to get in touch with you about your car’s extended warranty” immediately assaulted my ears as the SPAM phone call started. Growling, I hit the hang-up button on the phone, and the phone resumed its lock. Tossing the phone on the passenger seat, I drove the rest of the way to work. Arriving at my spot in the lot, after badging through the gate security, I started to get out before realizing I should grab Clara’s phone, so I reached over and grabbed it.
That is the moment my world changed. The blue Android phone on the passenger seat wasn’t Clara’s phone, not the one I knew, at least. Wondering if it was one of her work friend’s phones, I tapped the screen, and saw listed “Clara Hardesty” and her normal phone number listed as an emergency number, along with the standard pin-code unlock request. Curious, I typed in Clara’s pin-code. It didn’t unlock.
Now, I’m a bit cautious, by nature. If I told you what I actually do, or what my company makes, you’d understand why. I stared at the phone for a moment, then pulled out my own and hit the #1 favorites button. Clara picked up immediately.
“Hey, Joe, what do ya know?” she intoned, giggling, in that old sing-song stolen from some ancient TV show.
Thinking fast, while staring at the blue mystery phone, I said “Hey, babe, just needed to ask how the car drove. Any problems?”
Still giggling, Clara said “Nope, drove like a champ. Looks like they fixed it. Why, are you worried for the little wifey?”
“Uh, yeah, I’m a bit worried about you at the moment.” The uncomfortable truth came out, though I think she missed the subtle shift from concern for her to concern about her. “Anyway, just wanted to check things. I’ll let you go.”
“Ok, love you.”
“Yeah, me too. Bye.” The close off was quick, as I failed to say ‘I love you, too,’ my standard closing.
As I contemplated the fact that Clara seemed to have a second phone, dark thoughts flashed through my brain. I couldn’t see any valid reason for her to have a second cell; she used her phone for everything, personal and work. The only understandable reason I could see for a second phone was to hide a specific set of calls, emails, texts, or website visits from anyone with access to her regular phone. It wasn’t as if the phone was better than her regular phone and she was about to switch; it appeared to be a Tracfone style phone, one of the so-called burner types meant as a secondary phone.
No, good thoughts and feelings were not going through my head. I grabbed the phone and went into the building.
When I got to the Fermi cellphone “garage” area (i.e., the cell phone lockers), I realized I would want to lock it up each evening while I figured out the mystery, but the phone needed to charge.
I walked into my office, and was met by my assistant, Kate. Kate was younger than Clara and I, but only by a few years: 28 to our 31. She’d been my assistant since she had graduated from college six years earlier. Light brown hair framed her pretty face, and while she would never be a bombshell, she had that girl next door vibe going for her. She had also had a steady beau from college through the first three years working for me. There were even discussions of weddings I had overheard during that time. However, one dark Wednesday, three years earlier, she had come back to work hysterical and had tossed her beau’s picture in her trash. She was a bear to work with for a month after that. I never heard the story.
“Hi, Joe!” was her cheery greeting to me as I entered the office. After seeing the look on my face, she suddenly became less cheery. “What’s the matter? Anything I did, or can I help?”
“I’m… not sure. Hey, who in here is discreet and knows how to clone a cellphone?” I responded.
“Uh… clone a cellphone? Not sure. Let me ask Robert.”
I grabbed my charging brick, and plugged the mystery cellphone in to start it charging. I then walked back over to the cellphone ‘garage’, selected the largest open locker, and put the phone in. By the time I walked back into the office, Kate was hanging up the phone.
“Jack Reynolds can clone one, if you have the appropriate replacement. He also knows a few tricks to unlock one, if that’s an issue?” she pried.
“Reynolds? And yes, I think that may be an issue.”
“Oh, Joe… I… I hope this is not what I think you may be saying.” Kate sadly murmured. Kate had a soft spot for me. I had known that for years, although neither had done more than being friends and occasionally having lunch (in public). She had never pried much into my private life before, and I had tried hard not to pry into hers.
“Right now, it’s just a mystery, though…” and I let it trail off. “Hey, I was going to need to talk with Reynolds this morning, anyway, about the new encrypter chips for the SDRs. The tests came back yesterday afternoon, and the yield is too low. I’ll go talk with him now. Wanna come?”
“Sure. Let me grab my TS notebook out of the safe and I’ll join you. SCIF, room B?” I nodded my head in assent as I went to grab a cup of coffee and Reynolds.
After a productive meeting, as we were ending, I finally brought up the personal part of the meeting.
“Jack, I have a more personal… something that I needed to talk with you about. Got a few extra minutes?”
“Sure, Joe. What’s the issue?”
“This morning, in my car, I found a mystery cellphone. Ordinarily, I’d have called my wife, Clara, and told her, since she was the last one to use the car. I mean, it would probably be a coworker or someone she went to lunch with, or some other such issue. However… however, the lock screen has her name and phone number on it, or normal cell number. And it didn’t unlock with her standard pin. It looks like a Tracfone, so I’m… worried about why she has a mystery phone.”
“Oh, wow. This is strictly between us three, then? What, you need me to unlock it? I can do that.”
“Well, yes, but I also need to clone it, see where the phone has been recently, and somehow get it back to my wife without her realizing that I ever saw it. The latter I can do simply by putting it back in the car where I found it. She’ll either realize it’s missing and search the car to find it, or she’ll call it to make it ring, or ping the GPS, or some such.”
“What kind of phone?”
“I think it’s a Tracfone, mid quality. Samsung A21, per the lock screen.”
“Yeah, I can do that, but it might be later in the day. You need to get one like it. Can you run out at lunch and get one?”
“Kate, could you do it? I can pay you back in a few days.”
“Sure, Joe. I can do it now if you need me to. That way, Jack can do his thing at lunch.”
“How long will it take, Jack?”
“Cloning? About ten minutes, once you have the new phone. I’ll grab some equipment from the lab and get it done. Unlocking? A bit trickier, but not unsolvable unless they encrypted the phone. If they encrypted, it’ll take a bit, but otherwise, about 20 minutes. All told, as long as the phone’s storage isn’t encrypted, and most folks don’t… a bit more than a half hour.”
“Will someone be able to tell the phone is cloned?”
“Tracfone will, but won’t, because they don’t look for that. But don’t open any emails or texts until after they’ve been picked up. I can also load on a key logger and a conversation recorder, which would store onto your phone, as the clone. That’ll cost a bit, though, as it’s not free software. Want to add the full tracking package?”
“Sure. Maybe we can have some fun.”
Kate left to go grab an appropriate Tracfone for the clone, quickly after we returned to my office. An hour later, she was back. “You’ll owe me lunch, as well as the juicy details of what’s going on. I’ll have to use that as my lunch time!”
“Okay, the finest hamburger that Red Robin has, at your command, tomorrow. Now, I’m going to run this over to Reynolds and have him do his magic. Oh, and Kate… thank you.”
Kate blushed a little at my gratitude. “You’re welcome, Joe. And no matter what this means… I’ll… be your sounding board, okay?” she replied. I could hear the sincerity and concern in her voice.
After delivering both phones to Reynolds, and being told to come back in an hour, I went back to my office to get more work done. My mind wasn’t allowing me to concentrate fully, but I was still productive.
I was just getting ready to go to Reynolds office when my work phone rang. Picking it up, I answered. “Hello, this is Joe Hardesty. You’re on an unsecure line.” I intoned.
“Hello, Joe Hardesty. This is Clara Hardesty. I was wondering if you’d like to have lunch with me today?” I heard Clara ask.
“Clara! Sure, where, what time? I’m probably going to be in my office most of the day, so that’s not a problem.”
“Do you have time for a longer lunch? A coworker and I were going to go to the Outback on 3rd for lunch. You’ll probably be out for an hour, hour and a half. You could bring someone, too.”
“Sure, I’ll bring Kate. She did me a favor recently, I’ll treat her to lunch today.”
“Oh, what favor?” I could hear Clara’s questioning and jealousy.
“Work related. She handled getting something for me and Jack Reynolds.” The truth, mostly.
“Ok, then, 12:30?”
“Sure. Gotta go, though. Love you.”
“Love you too. Bye!” And with that, the conversation ended.
“Kate, I’m taking you to lunch today, my treat, Outback. Don’t worry about your hours. Clara wants to meet there, so best behavior, too, okay?”
“Sure, Joe. This could be fun!”
And with that I went and retrieved the phones from Reynolds. “This is the original” he said, handing me a phone which I placed in my left pocket, “and this is the clone. The clone is set to not ring, in case you want to carry it, but don’t want it making noise. It’ll also send you a recording of any audio, all texts, will show where the other phone is on a map, and capture web traffic, email, and passwords from the original. Don’t answer it if it rings; it’s a live phone, so if you answer, it becomes a party line. Keep it always on, keep it always charged.”
“Thanks, Jack. I’ll owe you one.”
“No, you won’t. I enjoy this stuff. But I want to hear the results, okay?”
Walking back out to the parking lot, I returned the original back to my car, between the seat and the center console, where I’d found it. Thinking for a moment, I grabbed a spare napkin, wiped my face and wadded it, slightly, then place it so that it would have to be moved to retrieve the phone. It wasn’t much, but it was something. Locking up, I headed back in.
12:10 took a while to arrive, but arrive it did. Kate and I walked out to the Benz, and I glanced at the napkin, still in the place I’d left it. We discussed work, the mystery phone, the clone, firmly embedded in my pocket, and lunch on the drive over to the Outback Steak House. When we got there, I again moved the used, wadded up napkin over the area where I had placed the phone. Kate watched, with a puzzled expression for a moment, then smiled briefly, nodded, and we went in.
Clara was already seated, along with her coworker: surprisingly enough to me, a woman, perhaps our age, perhaps slightly older. She wasn’t “pretty” but she was handsome, with a nice figure and well dressed. Her dark hair was cut short, in a boyish bob, but her makeup was normal for a woman her age. She was dressed in a pretty pale-yellow blouse and slacks, contrasting with Clara’s flowery cotton dress. As Kate and I joined them, Clara introduced her coworker, Vickie. I had heard Clara mention Vickie’s name, in passing, in the past, but always as “Vic,” since “Vic” had joined Clara’s office some 14 months earlier. After introducing Kate to Vickie (Kate and Clara had met at a few work parties in the past), we all sat down to eat.
While Clara seemed slightly stressed, Vickie turned out to have a lively, agreeable and funny personality; she was interesting to talk with, and had interesting things to say about life in general. For much of the conversation during the meal, Vickie kept the conversation up, though she had what at first felt like an annoying issue of occasionally glancing at her phone. I didn’t put much to it until Sue got up, expressing a need “to use the little girls room for a couple of minutes” about fifteen minutes in: an odd way to express her bathroom break needs. Interestingly, Vickie didn’t offer to go with her; I had always thought that was standard for women eating together.
Kate and I had been seated where we couldn’t see either the bathrooms nor the entrance, so it was surprising when Vickie suddenly grabbed her phone as if to read a text, She read the message, and then said “Oh, I need to make a call for a moment. Sorry!” With that, she pulled up her dialer and called a number. Simultaneously with that, the phone in my pocket started vibrating, and continued to do so for the entire time of her “supposed” phone call. After a second, with the phone still vibrating in my pocket, Vickie carried on a short conversation about some report or other with some nameless person; she literally didn’t name the person who “answered.” After about 45 seconds, however, the phone in my pocket stopped vibrating, and Vickie quickly ended the call shortly after that.
Clara returned, casting a quick glance at Vickie a few minutes later, with Vickie giving a nearly imperceptible nod to Clara. I had the distinct impression that I had been had, and I knew that the phone was no longer caught between the driver’s seat and the center console. I could sense that Kate suspected as much, as well, but we wouldn’t know for sure until we got back to the car.
Clara seemed less agitated, and more her normal self the rest of the meal. We packed it in at the end, and all three women went to the ladies room as a group. I wondered, briefly, if Clara realized she had given away the fact she hadn’t gone to the ladies earlier by doing so. After the ladies returned, I got a quick kiss from Clara and a handshake from Vickie, as we left to return to work.
Arriving back at my Benz, I noticed that the tell-tale napkin was close, but not in the same position as before; Clara had probably knocked it over grabbing the phone, and had been just frazzled enough not to notice the difference. Kate noticed, right away, though.
“So, I’d bet tomorrow’s lunch that your mystery phone is no longer there. Care to take that wager?” she asked as we pulled out on our way back to work.
“No bet. I’m pretty sure you’re right, and Vickie even rang the phone to make it faster for Clara to recover it; that’s what the phone call was, I’d bet. I’d have to double check the clone, but it vibrated during her call.”
“So, Vickie, then, is no help in figuring out who… more about the mystery phone? She’s more of an accomplice?”
“Seems so, Kate. I’m going to be going through the texts, call logs, and emails on the phone to figure out what’s going on, but I have to say… I’m worried. Very worried.”
“Then… what’s next?” she asked me.
“I don’t know yet. I just don’t know. But if it’s the worst… I can’t, I won’t, accept that.” We drove back to the office in silence after that.
Back at the office, I went through the last of the things I couldn’t put off until the following day, and then pulled out the clone. An ironically funny thought went to through my mind. “Don’t you love a farce? Your fault, I fear. I thought I could trust you so much, sorry my dear. But where are the clones? Send in the clones. Don’t bother, it’s here.” I mumbled, as I sat with it. Kate, overhearing that from her desk, started laughing.
“First time I ever heard someone make up a satire version of a song, Weird Al style, and you pick ‘Send in the clowns’? Man, Joe, you’ve got a dark sense of humor.” she chuckled.
“Sorry, sometimes I can’t keep myself from making up stupid lyrics for old songs when I’m feeling stressed. It’s actually not a good sign,” I apologized.
I spent the next hour going through emails and texts; there weren’t huge numbers of them, but there were some. The call logs and contacts list clued me in that there wouldn’t be a whole lot of folks to go through; the only contacts on the phone were “V,” me, under my name, (though she’d never called or texted me from the phone), Clara herself, “H,” and “CCC.”
The “CCC” number was an toll-free phone number, so using my office phone, I called it; it turned out to be Visa, which was interesting, but I assumed that ‘CCC’ therefore meant “Credit Card Company.” Since I didn’t have the account number it wanted, I just hung up.
Clara’s contact list included her work phone number, her cellphone number, and an unknown number marked “Mobile” two cellphone numbers seemed odd, but I resisted calling it to see what it was.
“V” had four numbers, one marked “Home”, one “Work”, and two “Mobile”. I noticed, with some interest, that the “Work” number had the same prefix as Clara’s work number. From that, I assumed that the number was one of Clara’s coworkers. Putting two and two together (and confirming it tentatively with the call log, which showed a call from one of “V’s Mobile” numbers during lunch, I decided that “V” was Vickie. It didn’t explain why Vickie had two mobile numbers, of course, but Vickie wasn’t my issue.
That left “H”, with only a single number, uncategorized. I didn’t recognize it, and couldn’t call it, as it was a local number. However, the call log showed it was rarely called, on average once a week over the last eight months. The “CCC” number was called even more rarely, twice a month on average.
It was the calls to Vickie that were high, and the only texts were from Vickie, almost all from one of the two mobiles. Checking the call log, 90% or more of the phone calls were also to that number.
I decided to do a reverse search for the number marked “H.” That was where I got my next shock. According to Google, “H” was the local number for the Hollow Grove Motor Hotel… a No-Tell Motel a few miles from where my wife worked Who was she going to the motel with, or was she even going? Was she stepping out on me at all? If not, why the motel, why the unknown credit card, and why the unknown phone?
It didn’t make sense.
I did what any man would do. I looked up the cost of a private detective. Yeah, right, I told myself when I saw those costs. What viable options existed? The only one I saw was doing the work myself, using the bugged mystery phone as my information source.
Nothing came up the rest of the day. I did take care to notice that the phone went to my wife’s work and stayed there until she was ready to go home; she made a stop at the Chinese takeout we often used, but then went home. There were no calls or texts on the phone during that time. I left the clone phone in my car overnight, as I couldn’t think of a good way to hide it at the house, but I wanted it nearby, in case some “sudden emergency” pulled Clara out of the house.
At night, Clara was normal, loving, and funny. She was relaxed, more relaxed than normal, in fact. If I hadn’t known she wasn’t drinking, I’d have thought she had a bit of a buzz, in fact. I was puzzled by that, unless she was somehow having a high from “having put one over on Joe.” My mood was more reserved, though she didn’t seem to pick up on it. That night, she offered some loving, and I partook of my carnal relations with her. So sue me, I wasn’t separated or divorced, and while things didn’t look good, there was always a chance I could be wrong and that it was something else. Who knows, maybe Clara and Vickie were starting some kind of Tupperware business on the side and meeting the other ladies at a No-Tell Motel.
Yeah, right. But the chance wasn’t zero, which would be how much I’d get from Clara if she was cheating, and I divorced her. So yeah, little head said “friendly pussy,” and I said “Why, yes, yes it is, indeed, and quite warm and welcoming.”
I’m not sure I slept well, afterwards, though.
Thursday came far too early, or too late, depending on your point of view. Clara woke me up for a quickie, a rarity in the morning before work. She and I then showered, dressed, had breakfast, kissed, and left to our respective jobs, as we had a thousand times before. However, the clone phone vibrated in my pocket part way through the commute. My anxiety level went up when I felt that!
I grabbed my stuff and the phone, and went to my office. Kate was already there, waiting, with a worried look on her face. She closed the door after I got in, and we reviewed the short call that had happened.
“So, are we on for today?” I heard Vickie ask when Clara answered.
“Oh yeah. I’ve got a bit of a surprise for you, too. Joe and I got busy last night, and I wanted to give you a treat, so we got busy this morning, too.” Clara shockingly replied.
“Oh goody! Hot Cream of Clara, with a touch of morning Joe, my favorite breakfast!” was Vickie reply back.
What. The. Fuck?
Clara wasn’t cheating on me with some guy, she was cheating on me with a woman! Kate gasped, and threw her arms around me when she heard that.
“I’m on my way there. I’ll get the room. We have all day, today, as I finished up today’s work early.” I heard Clara giggling.
“Okay, see you in twenty, hot and creamy stuff!” Vickie laughingly responded, before hanging up.
I turned my head towards Kate and said, “So, at least it’s not some other guy. But cheating is cheating, and what the hell? She’s going to take my cre… um… uh… um… uh, sorry. I didn’t think.”
“Your wife is feeding her cream pie, your cream pie, to her lesbian lover. That what you were about to say?” Kate shockingly stated. My jaw bounced on my chest before I stammered a reply.
“Uh, yeah, but I didn’t want to… you know… create an uncomfortable, sexually harassing atmosphere. I caught myself. I’m not going to be able to make it paying alimony and losing my job because you reported me for an angry remark not directed at you.”
“Why would I report my future boyfriend?” Kate asked, still hugging me.
“What? Future boyfriend?”
“Yep, I told you I’d help you get through this. And I’m staking a claim. You’ve already used the alimony word, which means you’re going for a divorce, right?”
“Uh… yeah?” I asked, now completely stunned.
“You’re a good guy, sweet, smart, funny, not bad looking, make good money, I know you’re as loyal as the day is long. Why wouldn’t a girl want to nab a guy like that when he comes on the market?” she explained. “So, the question is how fast we can get the paperwork done. Hey, maybe we can get her served at the motel today! Then you can take me out tomorrow!”
“Wha…?” I replied, stunned by the speed and earnestness of Kate’s decision to throw her… well, I would say “Hat in the ring,” but more crudely and honestly, “Her panties on my face” might be more accurate judging by her tone and the look on her face. I suddenly felt like the last cupcake at a five-year-old’s birthday party.
It was only for a moment. “Right. Yes. Let’s.. uh… find a lawyer. Let’s get the ball rolling.”. I became more confident as I spoke, noticing for the first time how soft Kate’s breasts were, smashed against my chest. “If we hurry, maybe we can do this, at least while they’re still at the motel.”
Kate let me go, walked to her desk, and pulled a paper from her purse with a name and address. “Your appointment is at 9:00. I wanted to be prepared.”
Again, I was stunned. “You made the appointment already?”
“I wanted you to have a good lawyer already locked and loaded if the worst happened, and to know what your options were. I like being efficient to ensure that I save time for better things later.” With that, she threw on a sexy pout on her lips, then lightly flicked her tongue over them. The speed things were going was beyond my comprehension. “I’ll go with you, if you want.”
“Uh, sure. Let’s get going, I guess.”
With that pathetic start, I was on my way.
We met the lawyer, on time, at 9:00; I think we were the first appointment for the day. The lawyer, Lucille, was an older, well-dressed woman. She had a hungry look, reminding me more of a hyena than a shark. We greeted each other, and I filled her in on what we knew, my family situation in regards children, our incomes and retirement.
“Well, the bad news is that we’re in a no-fault state, meaning that you can’t use this against her. It does not, however, stop you from filing, and without kids, a divorce would go through if she doesn’t fight it. If she does, then the price goes up, and time goes up. Since you’re filing, you’ll end up paying the court costs. You also make twenty percent more than she does, and have a better retirement package. You’ll pay alimony, and may have to cede over a small amount out of your 401K. It won’t be onerous, however. You house will either be sold, or one or the other of you will have to buy the other out. With me so far?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“It’s Lucille, Joe. We’re going to be talking a lot, so I want you comfortable. Now, I can get the paperwork drawn up and filed fairly quickly since it’s straightforward. When, and where, do you want to serve her, or are you going to just ask her to come in?”
“Well… I’d like to have her served today, before 4:00 this afternoon, at the motel she’s sharing with her lover for a tryst.”
“Today? Ok… that’s… not normally something we can do. I’d have to call in some favors.”
“Aunt Lucille, I’ve made Joe aware I’m staking a claim, and want him to take me out tomorrow. He can’t, we can’t, do that unless she’s been served,” Kate begged. Aunt Lucille? Wait, my lawyer was Kate’s aunt?
“This is the guy you wouldn’t talk about, Katie? This is him? I should have realized when you came with him after asking for an emergency appointment last night. For my favorite niece, I’ll call in those favors,” Lucille answered Kate.
“Aunt Lucille? Katie? Uh…” I started to stammer.
“Yes, I’m railroading you. Deal with it, Joe,” Kate replied. “I know what I want, and now that Clara has screwed up, nothing, and I mean nothing, is going to stop me.”
Lucille started laughing. “She definitely gets that attitude from my side of the family, Joe. You’re dealing with a force of nature, you know. I’ll have the paperwork turned around by noon, and filed by 1:00; do you want to be there when she’s served, or do you want to do it? And lastly, do I need to get an order keeping her from the house so that you can inhabit it while the divorce processes?”
“Uh… yes, and I’d like to be there.”
Fast forward five-and-a-half hours. There I sat, with Kate in my car in the motel parking lot, having changed the locks on the house over the last three hours (thank god for Home Depot!), waiting for the server to arrive with the paperwork. A young blonde woman, driving a mid 2000s Ford Mustang, pulled up, parked nearby, got out of her car and reached in to grab a small satchel and a camera. Looking around, she spied me sitting in the car, and walked over.
Walking up to my open window, she asked “Joe Hardesty?”
“Yes, that’s me.” I replied to the bubblegum popping younger 20-something woman.
“Which room? And can you show me a picture?” I pulled out my phone and pulled up a picture of Clara, and pointed to the room in front of my wife’s car.
“Okay, you can either stay here, or come over, but I need you at least fifteen feet away, and off to one side; you can stand in front of the door to the room to the right of your wife’s. I just need her to not see you.”
“Oh, okay.” I left Kate in the car and walked over to the door she mentioned. While I did, the process server walked over to her car, popped the trunk, and emerged with a black over coat and a white maid’s hat after rummaging for a moment. Donning them, she approached the door, looking (from the waist up) like one of the maids.
She knocked on the door; waited, then knocked again. She called out “Mrs. Hardesty? Motel Guest Service, I need to come in for a moment.” I heard muffled voices from inside, but it was a good three minutes before the door opened.
I could see Clara step out, wearing her dress, but not her hose or shoes, but turned as she was, she didn’t realize I was there watching. “Mrs. Clara Hardesty? Do you have an ID? We didn’t get a copy when you checked in. I can just take a quick picture, since we only need an electronic one.”
Dazed, and ticked off to be interrupted, my wife went back in before returning with her purse a moment later. Showing her license, the server had her hold it, then handed her the small folder of papers. Clara looked down at the papers, then looked up just in time to see the camera flash and the server say “Clara Hardesty, you’ve been served.”
“Wait, what?” Clara asked, as the server started walking to the Mustang. Following her out a little, once she hit the curb, I coughed, loudly, in order to draw her attention. Clara instinctively turned towards the sound, not registering that I was standing there until I spoke.
“I’ve changed the locks, Clara. Don’t come home. You can pick up your things on Saturday. I hope Vickie was worth it.” She didn’t even have the ability to speak as her face went slack, her eyes wide.
I had already opened the door to the car before she found a voice. It wasn’t articulate, but it was a voice. I’ll always remember: the wail that escaped her mouth as she started screaming and moaning at the same time “Noooooooooo.”
I guess no one expects to be caught when they set out to cheat.
“So, where am I taking you tomorrow?” I asked Kate as I started the car and pulled out.
“Oh, somewhere that I can wear a slinky dress and make your eyes pop out. I know I have to tease you for the next few months while we wait, but I want your tongue hanging out while you wait.”
Oh boy! Somehow, I don’t think I’m in control of my life anymore! I know there will be ups and downs in the next few months, but life isn’t going to be boring.
—————-
So, that’s the story Finding. Why Finding? Because it meant “Finding a Phone”, “Finding out”, “Finding a new woman”, and “Finding I couldn’t come up with one title to rule them all”. Oh well!
Some of you may say “FTDS!”
Well, it IS finished, at least as much as it absolutely needs to be. I may, in fact, “finish it” one day. I may not. Some of you who held on this long may have a desire to see how it goes in your way. I invite you to do so. Consider this an invitational, ala the now infamous “February Sucks” invitational, or “Just once, if you don’t mind” sequence. To paraphrase Southwest Airlines says, you can take it nearly anywhere from here, and I hope someone does; I’d love to see other folks endings, and I guarantee, I’ll read every one of them if you write them.