Bret leaned on the bar twirling the scotch in the glass, gazing into it intently. His buddy, Randy, perched on a stool on his left They had been there since they got off work, just talking and watching sports on the big screen TV. It was a usual Thursday evening. Bret's wife, Pat, was at yoga on Thursday evening so, instead of going home to an empty house, Bret stopped at the bar and stayed until about 9pm That put him home about the same time as Pat. Bret sat the glass of scotch on the bar and tilted his head to look at Randy.
"We been best friends for a long time."
Randy, caught off guard by the comment, shot Bret a quizzical look.
"Yeah. Ever since you shot our third grade teacher with blow gun dart made from a straight pin and a Bic pen tube and I took the fall for it."
Bret grinned.
Randy was Bret's best friend. They had known each other since elementary school. They lived just a few houses apart when they were growing up and had been inseparable. They did everything together. They played sports together. They went to college and roomed together. They dated together.
Tonight, Bret was obviously troubled by something. Randy had found Bret at the bar. Bret was usually the one who arrived late. Randy knew then that something was not right, especially when he figured out that Bret was already three drinks ahead of him. And not just beer. Bret was drinking double scotch on the rocks. In an hour, he had gained ground on Randy and was now three doubles ahead. The alcohol was workings its magic. Bret was becoming more and more uninhibited as the evening progressed. As Randy listened, he quickly surmised that things at Bret's house were a little less than blissful.
"That bitch is spending me out of house and home. I got the credit card bill this month and she maxed them all out again. When I say anything about she just tells me to work harder."
Randy wanted to say something, but feared that what he wanted to say would offend his friend. He held his words and the thought as Bret continued.
"I think she is playing around too. We haven't had sex in months. I know her. She is getting it somewhere. She can't do without it."
Bret turned up the glass and downed the rest of the scotch, banged the glass on the bar and motioned for another. The bartender nodded. Another glass of scotch appeared.
Brett's voice was starting to slur. Randy could see Bret sway slightly on the barstool as he drank deeply.
"And she has turned into a real double barreled bitch. When she does speak to me it's like nails on a blackboard. Sometimes I feel like a slot machine. She pulls my handle once in a while and then grabs the money."
"Sounds like you have a real problem but I don't know what I can do to help."
Bret took a long pull from the scotch. As he set it down on the bar he swiveled the bar stool and stared directly into Randy's eyes. Randy saw the dilated pupils and noticed that Bret had to hold on to the edge of the bar to keep his balance.
"I want you to seduce my wife."
Randy had to catch himself to mask the flabbergasted look that threatened to cross his face.. He leaned closer to his best friend and steadied him with a hand on his shoulder. Randy shrugged off the remark as the scotch talking and not his best friend.
"Bret, I think you are fucking drunk. Come on and I'll take you home. You can't drive. I will pick you up in the morning so you can get your truck."
Bret's eyes never wavered as he lifted the glass as if to toast Randy and drained it.
"OK Buddy, but I am serious. I want you to seduce my wife and fuck her."
"Yeah Bret. We will talk about it in the morning."
%%%
Bret's mouth tasted like an old sneaker. The light from the window penetrated his skull like a sharp knife through his eyes. Standing carefully, he waited for a moment, letting the world stabilize a bit before he stumbled to the shower. In seconds steam began to escape as the hot water cascaded from the shower head. Gritting his teeth, he stepped into the stinging spray. A half hour later, grabbing a towel he stepped onto the cold tile. He felt a little more human. As he dressed he decided that a cup of coffee and a little breakfast might make it even better.
Hell! I might survive after all.
Pat rolled over. She opened one eye and looked at him.
'Well I guess you had a good time last night. Randy had to walk you in the house."
He looked at her and grimaced.
"Yeah, so what. I beats the hell out of being home alone."
She just stared silently and rolled over with her back to him pulling the covers up around her ears. Bret dressed haphazardly. While the coffee was making, he dropped bread into the toaster. As he was pouring a cup of black coffee he heard the toaster pop. Grabbing the still hot piece of dark brown bread, he smeared it with butter and jelly. Leaning against the counter watching the coffee run into the pot he thought about where he was in his life.
He had gone to work for the refinery right after college. As a junior engineer, he was assigned to the operations division and spent the majority of his time watching dials and putting numbers on a chart. It wasn't hard nor did it challenge him. He had begun to study the process that he was monitoring and discovered that it was, in his mind, highly inefficient and costly. He had begun doodling on scrap pieces of paper in the control shack where he worked. That doodling had become drawings and those drawings the genesis of a new control process. When he took his idea for a new design that would improve the efficiency of part of the plant to management they agreed to let him run some trials, on his own time and at his own expense. The design proved out. He was given the go ahead to scale up the prototype to a full system on one of the operating plants. A years worth of work, testing and measuring had proved that his design increased through put on the plant and decreased cost significantly. He had spent the next two years traveling around the country retrofitting the other plants with his improvement. The fact that he owned the patent and the company not only paid him to install the changes but also a royalty on every gallon of product that was processed using his patent didn't hurt. He went from being deep in student debt and the most junior engineer in the company to owning his own engineering consulting firm and having more money than he could spend.
It was on one of his installation trips he had met Pat. Her full name then was Patricia Margaret McMannis. She was 10 years older than he was. To Bret, she seemed exotic and beautiful She was.
She was tall and built like a brick house and there wasn't a brick missing. Dark hair, dark eyes and long legs. He had been mesmerized. She worked for the company as an HR generalist and, in that position, had access to the company personnel files. That had explained how she knew so much about him when he showed up on site that first day.
He remembered it clearly. He had arrived at the gate as planned. The guard had told him to go to HR to get his ID card which was also the key card that allowed him to access the plant. When he entered the HR office, the receptionist had directed him straight to Pat's office.
She had made it clear right off the bat that she was single, available and more than ready to show him all the delights the city could offer. He took her up on her offer and they had become an item over the next 6 weeks. The night before he was to leave for the next project, she had clung to him and cried. She packed and left with him the next day. Six months later they were married.
Six years later she was still drop dead gorgeous. She worked out three times a week, did yoga twice a week and the other days she was either playing tennis at the club or swimming in the pool at the house. Any time she wasn't doing that she seemed to be shopping. That the woman could shop there was no question. When he had finished that last project they had come back where they lived now and he had opened his engineering firm. She promptly decided to build a house. It had to be in the most exclusive development and it had to be the biggest and grandest.
That was 4 years ago. His business had boomed. His company now resided in its own building staffed by 15 engineers and he couldn't even count the number of CAD operators, admin assistants and secretaries. All he knew is that he no longer did much engineering. He spent most of his time in meetings or cozying up to clients.
His only respite from the grind was Randy. Randy graduated with a degree in business and stayed in school to get his MBA. He now worked for a major investment firm as a market analyst. According to Randy, he was doing ok, but nothing on the scale of Bret. They remained best friends and spent a considerable amount of time together.
He poured a cup of coffee and heard the horn honk out front. That would be Randy picking him up to take him to his car so he could go to the office. He headed out, locking the door behind him and then pressing the button on the fob on his key chain to arm the alarm system.
Randy examined him as Bret climbed into the car.
"You look like shit."
"I feel like shit."
Randy laughed.
They chatted as Randy drove to the bar. Bret's car was not the only one in the parking lot. He got out and as he closed the door he stopped and looked back in.
"You gonna be here tonight?"
"Are you?"
"Yeah. It's her night to do spin class. I hate that big fucking house."
"I'll be here. Just don't start without me."
Bret nodded and shut the door. Bret was still standing next to the pickup truck as Randy drove away. Randy headed his car downtown to the office building where the investment firm kept its offices on the five floors of a bank tower. His office wasn't on a corner, yet, but it did have a full wall of windows. He wasn't too disappointed with his situation. After he got his MBA he went to work at the investment firm as a broker. His job was to hustle clients into investing more money and then keeping them happy. He was good at it. So good in fact, that within a year he had been pulled from what they called the bull pen and moved into a cubicle along the wall with a computer and a phone. It was his reward for outperforming everyone else. He kept at it and discovered he had a knack for looking at markets and seeing trends that no else seemed to notice. That knack made it possible for him to get early positions on market moves and profit well from that ability. The boys on the 30
th
floor noticed and he began the steady rise up the floors from the 25
th
. Now he had an office with windows on the 30
th
floor. He wasn't a partner. . .yet.
He pulled into the parking garage and into the space with his name stenciled on the wall. You could always tell your standing with the company by how close your parking spot was to the elevator. His was close and he was soon in the elevator on his way to his office.
%%%
Randy was already sitting at the bar when Bret arrived.
"You get off early?"
"I took off a bit early. Things were slow."
