Guilty Pleasures

Welcome to my latest series, mashing up a few more tropes. This series turned out to be a crazy ride, so get ready for something that ends quite unlike it began.

As always, I am not going for deep truths or gritty realism in my storytelling. And God forbid you take anything you read herein as

advice

! The aim for me is a ridiculously plausible course of events.

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Guilty Pleasures - Six

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The weekend that had begun with Wanda's first hall pass with me ran wonderfully tranquil. Becca was spending the weekend in Atlanta with her mother. She did that regularly. There had not been a visitation requirement since Becca had turned eighteen, but she still, miraculously, loved both of us. And the one thing the two of us had really gotten right in our marriage, and our divorce, had been Becca, and we had each been scrupulous about genuinely wanting her to love the other.

I got a crap ton of work accomplished that weekend, with no visiting horde of college students either day, but I also got in a couple of workouts, and even went to see a movie by myself. It was even a good picture... mostly. Overall, it was the most tranquil, normal, post-divorce weekends in what felt like forever.

Until Sunday night.

Whenever Becca goes to visit Rebecca, we usually FaceTime each other once Becca hits the road home, to talk about her and what we can and should do as a team to help her through life. Honestly, these calls are seldom fun or exciting, but I often find myself enjoying them, at least a little. My ex is actually a charming woman, and she is not hard to look at on a video call or in person.

But this week was different. I knew about Yancey now. She really had

cheated

on me. It wasn't just a dark suspicion to be shunted aside. As the call approached, I found myself getting madder and madder. Wanda and I might be trying to even things up with Yancey, but it hardly applied to my ex.

Still, these calls were important. Fighting during them was a bad idea, and it was damned rare that it happened. I resolved to bite back my anger and roll on through. Maybe I never needed to have it out with Rebecca. Our marriage was almost six years in the rearview mirror, after all.

All such plans for a normal call went out the window as the swooping noise announced her face appearing on my laptop screen. My ex looked thunderous. It took her about zero seconds to let me know why.

"Three of them?" were her first words. "

All three of them?

"

Well. I now knew what she and Becca had talked about over the weekend...

"Rebecca, I..."

Like I was going to get a word in edgewise here.

"I barely know two of them, but I know enough to wonder how the Hell you engineered getting three little hotties on a cruise ship with you. That was slick trick, Clark."

"Rebecca..."

"And Mary?

Mary

? What would Yancey and Wanda think if..."

"You fucked Yancey." I said loudly and firmly. "Repeatedly."

That stopped her tirade dead in its tracks.

"What?"

"You heard me. And while what you are ranting about is not my finest hour by any stretch, nobody was married!" I spat angrily. Wow, I had gone from zero to sixty in a heartbeat. "Yancey is, and you were. You were married to

me

! So I think I'm going to call bullshit on any high moral dudgeon you want to summon. Yancey? My friend? Really?!?"

There is nothing like having one's incipient rant utterly derailed to leave a person off-balance. I could see Rebecca reeling. I'd knocked her off her intended target, but I had dissipated none of her anger. "Yes,I screwed Yancey. And he wasn't the only one, you know!" my ex snapped.

"What?"

"There was George. And Saul, too."

"

Saul?!?

"

"And..." suddenly, she caught her breath, almost in a sob. I could see Rebecca visibly deflate on the screen before me. "And Julien," she finished miserably.

Saul?

Wait.

"Who the hell is Julien?" I asked, almost absent-mindedly.

"You met him," she said, fully subdued now. "French-Canadian guy from work. He was in Sales."

I ran through my memories frantically. Nothing rang a bell.

"He was the one," Rebecca said miserably. "The one that broke us."

"What?"

"I fell in love with him, Clark. Like you and I were once, I thought," she said softly, looking down. She looked up, painful apology in her face like I had almost never seen. My ex had never been big on apologies. We all have flaws. "He made life fun again. I... I divorced you for him."

"Wait," I almost wailed. "How the fuck have I never heard about this cocksucker?"

"Because," she said in a low voice, "two days after I told him that I had served you with the papers, he told me that he had just been transferred to the Denver office."

Ouch.

Wait, how was I feeling empathy here?

"I begged him not to go. Not to leave me. You and I had so much still to work out here at the time, and there was no place for me at the Denver office anyway. But it was too good an opportunity for him, he said."

"I guess he wasn't as in love..." I began nastily.

"Then three days after he left, I learned that he had applied for the position three months previously, and had already been scheduled for the move for two months already. He never told me."

Wow.

That

was how I was feeling empathy here. "The rat fucking bastard," I breathed. "He...? Oh, my God!"

A tear ran down Rebecca's cheek. Just one, but it rent my heart. I genuinely reeled in my seat. What the fuck was happening to me? Sure, I wanted to kill the guy who had fucked my wife and ended my marriage. That checked out. But I didn't want to kill him because he had fucked my wife and ended my marriage. I wanted to drag his face across a gravel road because he'd used and abused the woman I had once loved...

"Serves me right, huh?" Rebecca said, amazingly not sniffling.

"No," I said. "No, it does fucking not! That was an epic dick maneuver. Whatever anger I might have at you, Rebecca, it won't stop me from, if I'm ever in Denver, meeting up with this Julien character and giving him the opportunity to throw the first punch in front of witnesses," I said grimly.

"Ha! Thank you, Sir Fucking Galahad," Rebecca laughed acidly. "But he isn't in Denver any more, and justice has already been served." I cocked my head at her. "The cocksucker ran off to Denver and to a new job with sky high expectations on him, leaving jilted little old me there at the home office, close to all my friends in HR, and in upper management." She laughed, flashing that spirit I had once loved so much.

Even when we had fought back in the day, she had always been able to keep her sense of humor intact. That simple fact had probably extended our zombie marriage for a few years.

That and, you know, her fucking other guys to keep her busy because she wasn't fucking me...

"We all make our mistakes, Rebecca," I said to her very seriously. "It is good, if not pure, intentions and a concern for others that sets some of us apart from douches like Julien."

She looked back at me, clearly hearing both my (very provisional) forgiveness, and my honest plea for the same. We both just sighed.

"It is a good thing this is a FaceTime, and not a face to face," I snorted.

She of course knew exactly what I meant. She always had. "Yeah, we are perilously close to having a Moment here, aren't we?" she said with her wry humor.

God, she looked good.

Yes, having a Moment, especially now, with Rebecca, would be a Bad Thing to end all Bad Things. And I knew about doing bad things lately.

"Yeah," I sighed. "Whatever, just know I am sorry about what happened with Julien. I do not remotely claim that I'm over what you did," I said, with a flash of anger that I felt I needed and deserved, "but I'm already pretty close to the understanding stage. What that cocksucker did, however... He deserved whatever punishment you dealt him and more. I'm sorry," I said again, running down.

"Thank you," she said back. "And... I am sorry too."

"Thanks," I said, a little more harshly than I wanted to or should have.

"Our daughter seemed to be doing great," she said briskly, changing the subject, or so I thought. "I think she will do just about perfect if you can refrain from fucking any more of her friends..."

*

Wanda and I toyed around with meeting again the next Friday, but she and Yancey were hosting another Bridge party Saturday. This time we both wanted more than just a couple of hours in an evening, like that prior Friday had offered. Saturday, she would be spending the day preparing for, then having the party. Sunday would be spent cleaning up and otherwise getting over it.

"There's no rush," she had said. "The wait is enjoyable too."

Yeah. I could see that. I could also see enjoying her body some more... I really am horrible.

The Bridge was good that week. I made far fewer mistakes than I usually did. I was actually chortling after one rubber about how well I was playing, and found myself wondering how, when I was screwing up everything else in my life, suddenly I could play Bridge competently...

No one else knew what a shit-show my existence was, and certainly not how awesome a shit-show it was, so I was able to relax and have another slice of normality.

And everything was normal, for the first half of the evening. We all played cards, switched tables, drank some beer and wine, and had nice conversations. Stan was a tool to several people, and poor Monica just tried to ignore her husband's toolery. Actually, at one point I thought I saw her actively avoid him when he started getting particularly jerky to Peter. But other than that, it was situation normal. The highlight of the evening was when Beth Anne and Brenda McMasters were at the same table for a round and Beth Anne spent the whole time glaring at Brenda's cleavage. Brenda had discovered the joy of plunging necklines in the last year. I'm pretty sure a poll of the neighborhood guys would have had her new design choices running more popular than puppies and kittens.

Once the organized cards are done on nights like these, some couples usually head right on out. A few others play another impromptu round. The rest hang out and socialize. The back doors were open because it was a mild, pleasant night, and I was happy to just chill and talk to friends, inside the house and in the backyard.

And then I turned around, as Ro DeWalt said goodnight and left me to go find her husband to clue him in on my suggestion for their home internet, only to find myself suddenly alone with Yancey.

I had not intended to actually talk to him that night, unless we had been at the same table for cards, which we had not been.

And now there we were, just the two of us, staring at each other. Any other night since we had known each other, we'd have slapped backs and happily dove into any of ten different subjects we had in common. That night we just froze for several seconds.

Then I tentatively held out my hand to shake, and thought better of it. As I withdrew my hand, he then stuck his out. Then he withdrew his awkwardly. We stared at each other for another two seconds, then both simultaneously snorted and stuck our hands out once more. Eye contact, good firm grip, not too long, not too abrupt. No attempted crushing or other alpha bullshit. Just a good, clean shake.

I think it relieved both of us.

I didn't know what to say, and thus my tongue went on autopilot and I asked the first question I usually did when first running into Yancey. "Hey dude. How is Wanda?"

Yeah. In retrospect, not the ideal question or the ideal wording.

Yancey did a double-take. Then, when he saw the dawning horror on my face, he laughed. He actually laughed. A genuine laugh. "I don't think you need to ask that anymore, do you?" Then he laughed again at my dumbfounded expression.

Fine. If he was going to outright fuck with me, and with such apparent good humor, I wasn't going to cower. I looked him dead in the eye and just answered, "Holy shit, man! Holy shit..."

We both drained our beers, more than a little ashamed of ourselves, but in complete agreement on the quality of the lady in question.

I had meant to take Yancey to some out of the way, dark bar where no one knew us for this conversation. Somewhere the fixtures weren't expensive, in case we got into a fight. But I had kept chickening out on making the call to him. Now I guessed we were having The Conversation right here in his own back yard. Fortunately, no one else was around at the moment.

"Look, I am sorry, Clark," Yancey said quickly and earnestly.

"I know," I replied, just as simply. "And we are all three of us working on helping me accept that." I smiled almost disbelievingly. "And the amazing thing is, I'm beginning to think Wanda's psycho scheme might work. I know I'm feeling better about things."

"Oh

are

you now?" Yancey snorted.

"I... yeah," I stuttered, trying to restart. I took a deep breath. "Look, Yancey, let's talk about the elephant in the room." He cocked an eyebrow. "The one thing no one has talked about, unless it was you and Wanda, the one thing that can really make this turn pear-shaped, besides you maybe freaking out, and that doesn't look likely at this point, would be for me and Wanda to... form an attachment." I paused to let that sink in. Yancey just nodded cautiously.

"I am not going to fall in love with Wanda," I said flatly. I was desperately hoping that she wouldn't fall in love with me, but that was not for me to say. And I doubted it highly anyway. I could still see Yancey's shoulders slump, but his spine straighten. Good.

Still, it was good to set expectations. "To be clear," I added, "I intend to enjoy this evening up process to the absolute fullest. Because... well, fuck it. I refer you to my aforementioned, 'Holy shit!'"

There. I'd laid down a marker, but done it with a smile.

"Dude, I'm enjoying the shit out of it too," he replied, quite unexpectedly.

"What?"

"When Wanda came home that evening, half-dressed, hair a mess, stinking of sex, she looked like Venus incarnate. It was all I could do to not sag in relief and sob in happiness that she had come back. That elephant in the room, you know?" Yancey said in a low voice. Two people had drifted near the door, but thankfully did not come outside. "But within five minutes we were having the best sex In. Our. Lives... Well, best since we were dating, at least," he said in a shockingly enthusiastic whisper. "She started to detail what all you two did, and she got hotter with each word she said. And it got me fucking revved too, man," he added incredulously. "We were animals, right there in the kitchen."

"Wait, she told you

details

?"

"Minute details," Yancey grinned, suddenly relaxing in his... enthusiasm? "Well done, by the way. You got very high marks. But I expected that."

I just stood there slack jawed.

"You know that she isn't the first woman to tell me how good you were in bed," he said, finally letting some shame seep into his voice.

"Wait. What? My ex-wife, while you were fucking around, told you that I was good in bed? What the fuck?"

"Rebecca was most complimentary about you," Yancey said. "Sex was never the problem in your marriage, dude. But you know that. And... and however badly I betrayed you... it wasn't her playing around with me that broke you up." Whatever else he'd wanted out of this eventual conversation, I realized that last sentence was the one he'd been intent of getting in.

"I know that," I said emphatically. Thank God I'd already had the conversation with Rebecca. "Besides," I added, "you weren't the only guy."

"Huh? I wasn't?" Yancey was clearly shocked. The idiot. His indignation amused me.

"No. I think George came before you..." I drawled. Fuck George.

"Tillinghast?" Yancey considered that for a moment. George Tillinghast had moved out of town a while back. He was shorter than either Yancey or me, but he was a charming bastard, and a bit of a gambler. "Checks out," Yancey said, almost to himself.

George did make sense, after all.

"And, of course, there was Saul," I added blandly.

"Yeah.. wait?

Saul

? Brillo pad hair, hook-nosed Saul? How the fuck did that little gremlin get in a total babe like Rebecca's pants?"

"I have not the faintest idea," I said, finding I could actually joke about it. Or at least enjoy watching Yancey freak out about it. "But I heard it from the mouth of said babe herself."

"Damn. Now I need to readjust my ego about having a girl like Rebecca come on to me..."

"Oh, so she was the instigator?" I asked, trying to keep the challenge I felt out of my voice.

Yancey blanched. "No! Uh, I mean, yeah, sort of. But I'm

not

denying any of my responsibility, man. When I realized she was doing more than the usual flirting with me... I was the one who actively took the bait."

Why? Why had she done this?

A zombie marriage makes people do bad things...

"And then there was the last guy, Julien," I added, ready to get both Yancey and myself away from the introspective precipices we were on.

"Who the fuck is Julien?"

"He's the guy she actually left me for," I said, my distaste for that bastard rapidly returning to the fore. Yancey was fucking St. Francis compared to that guy. "He was a co-worker of hers. They had a long affair, but when she told him that she had served me with papers, he told her that he had just been transferred to Denver on short notice. In three days, he was gone."

"Oh no."

"Then, the next week, she found out that he'd applied for the transfer himself, three months earlier, had been told he had the job two months earlier, and had never told her word one."

Yancey looked at me, then pulled out his phone.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Just seeing if I have an excuse to head to Denver on business. I'd like to seek this Julien out and... have a chat."

"While I find that I appreciate your reaction being the same as mine, I was told to stand down by Rebecca herself, and I assume that applies to you, too. Apparently, she got her revenge already. Don't know where he works or lives now, but that Denver promotion was short-lived." I arched an eyebrow. "Don't leave a wronged woman behind in your corporate office."

"Ha! Good for her! Still," Yancey eyed me. "If you ever find him, I'd like to tag along."

I eyeballed him.

"Hey! Rebecca's a..." he looked at me defensively. Then he straightened his spine again. "She's a good woman, whatever she, um, whatever we did. She didn't deserve that!"

I stuck out my hand. We shook. This conversation had served its purpose. "For what it's worth, if I ever find the sonofabitch, I

will

give you that call."

The two of us were going to have more conversations before whatever this was between the three of us was put to bed. Some of them might be intense. But I found now that I looked forward to them. Yancey was my friend, dammit, and a great guy... for an adulterous pig. I realized that we truly had suffered from a distance between us for years. I knew now why, and I wanted that distance gone. Life moves forward, and I preferred that it do so without that distance between me and Yancey. I really liked the asshole.

And if I had to keep fucking his super hot wife for a while to make that rapprochement happen, well that was just going to have to be my cross to bear.

Said super hot wife chose that moment to appear. I suspect she may have been keeping an eye on us to make sure she could intervene, had things gone as they certainly could have. Now she showed herself, smiling, and bearing glasses of bourbon. I usually have a beer per rubber of bridge, but since everybody walks home from these things, I was happy to move on to brown liquor.

And at that moment, I needed a belt. Yancey apparently did too. Wanda joined us. We clinked glasses, and downed a good slug. I gasped, whatever this was, it was good, and it was nearly barrel-strength.