Thanks to all for reading. I know that the reason why the first tale was so popular was because most people believed, or at least gave me the benefit of the doubt, that it was true. Some didn't believe it, but were still entertained by it. I want to thank you all.
This continuation was hard for me in comparison to the first part. The first chapter was very easy because I just simply used real events to fuel the story. This one is not based on reality. There are parts of it that are true, but most of it is my interpretation of what could happen given the circumstance. I won't tell you which parts are true and which parts are fantasy. Only my editor and I know which is which. I will leave you to wonder. Or not wonder.
I also want to publically apologize to "Greg" for the first chapter. It was done without his permission, or without thought to how it would make him feel. I didn't think anyone we know would read it. I don't think anyone we know has, but the possibility is still there. I showed him the first chapter, endured his anger, but actually got his permission for this part.
I hope you enjoy.
*****
"Mr. Kirkson, you have a...call on line one."
"Who is it Betty?"
"A Mister Ford returning your call sir."
Greg? Greg was calling me? I'd been trying to get in contact with him ever since the blowup at my Halloween party. So far, he, his wife, and the other two paramours were incognito. No one had heard a peep from them.
Of course, there were questions. So many questions. I mean, how could there not be? The melt down was so public and humiliating. So brutal. It had all of the elements that you would want to see in the best drama. Sex, violence, betrayal, and an epic showdown between David and Goliath. Only this time, Goliath had a glass jaw that wrote a drunken check that was way too expensive for him, and David cashed it. With interest.
"Put him through Betty."
"Uh sir, he sounds a little...upset."
Well duh. His wife did publicly emasculate him. If he wasn't upset I'd be a little worried.
"Thank you Betty. I'll deal with him"
I waited for the click to indicate that I was on the line with Greg.
"Greg? Hey buddy. I've been trying to call you since..." I hesitated to actually say the words.
"Since I found out my wife fucked that dipshit. Yeah, I've had a lot to think about." I heard the anger still simmering beneath his calm demeanor. Even over the phone, his emotions radiated through.
"So, you wanna talk?"
I heard him scoff on the other end. It was like a snort.
"Why do you wanna talk to me Richard? Huh, good buddy? So you can post it on the internet? Does your riveting tale need a sequel? Do inquiring minds want to know what happened next to the chump who couldn't keep his wife satisfied? Can't your loyal fans wait to find out how my fucking life plays out?"
Fuck. Okay. He read the story. Now he's not only pissed at his cheating wife, her treacherous best friend and her Neanderthal lover, but me too. Great.
Greg and I go back to high school. He played baseball; I played football. We still connected with each other and formed a friendship that has lasted over the years. When we graduated we lost touch with each other for a while. He went straight to college and I joined the Air Force. Once he graduated he came back to our hometown, and got a job as a manager for Olive Garden. Sounds like a waste of a college degree, right? I told him so. However, he was tenacious. Driven. He was soon promoted. He excelled at whatever job he was assigned. His numbers always looked good. He had an excellent business mind. Pretty soon, he was district manager in charge of a multiple restaurants. His paycheck now rivaled mine. Well, almost.
I was honorably discharged from the Air Force after 10 years. Immediately, I got a job with a company that has contracts with the military. No need to go into detail about it. Really. I wouldn't have to kill you if I told you (cliché, I know) but I would be violating some serious classification protocols. And I'd get in trouble for it if I did. We aren't all Hillary Clinton, you know. Hope you understand.
To make a long story short, I returned to my hometown, got back in touch with Greg, and our friendship resumed as if there had never been a pause.
Now, my good friend was pissed. At me. Not good.
"Greg..."
Normally, I would try a clever joke to balm the situation over, or at least loosen the tension. Unfortunately for me, it was pretty obvious that would actually turn out to be counterproductive in this situation.
"I especially like the ending." He interrupted me. All I could do was shut the fuck up and let him get it out. "You know, where I tucked my tail between my legs and ran out of there like a bitch. Real nice touch."
His sarcasm oozed through my earpiece. At that moment, I really felt like a shitty friend. I had no defense against this.
"Greg, where are you? We should talk."
"You know what's funny Richard? I've become really popular these days. Much more popular than I was before. It seems like EVERYBODY wants to talk to me. Must be my charming personality."
It was then that I noticed that his voice was slurred. I heard the sounds of liquid being turned up and bouncing against the glass walls of a bottle.
"Greg, are you drunk?"
He laughed sardonically. "No Richard. I was drunk an hour ago. I can't tell you what I am now."
Okay. I had been a shitty friend. I admit that. Now it was time for me to fix it.
"Where are you Greg?" Even as I asked that question I was putting on my coat and grabbing my keys. I had a ton to do at work, but that didn't matter at the moment.
"Fuck you Richard! I'm not telling you where I am. Don't you come to this bar looking for me. I will fuck you up if you do!" The line went dead.
It didn't matter though. I knew exactly where he was. There were only a few bars in our town that were worth going to. Greg had his favorite. Moe's. It was partly because he had a crush on the pretty bartender there. She was one of those women who could flirt with you, but at the same time give off a vibe that she is totally unavailable. Didn't stop her popularity though. She was still very good eye candy.
When I walked in, it almost broke my heart to see him sitting at the bar all alone. He was the only customer there. A glance at my watch told me it was a little after noon. Karen (hot bartender) waved me over when she saw me walk in. I could see the empathy in her eyes as they locked in on mine.
"This handsome stud belong to you?" She joked, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. I nodded softly and nudged my head to the side, indicating that I needed her to make herself scarce and give us a moment.
"Greg..."
That was all I got out. His fist slammed into me and I saw stars. God damn! No wonder Dominic went down so hard! Before I realized it, I was on the floor wiping blood from my lip. He stood over me, glowering at me. Finally, he shook his head and took his seat back at the bar.
I picked myself up off the floor and waved my hand at Karen, who had been cleaning tables before Greg clocked me. Now she stood staring at us with eyes as big as saucers. She started to approach before I waved and nodded, silently letting her know that everything was okay. She nodded in return and went back to cleaning tables.
"Now that you got that out of your system, can we talk?" I asked as I bravely took the seat next to him. He took another sip of his beer and shook his head.
"Off the record?" he asked sarcastically. I laughed to myself. At least he still had his wit. That is a good sign. I guess. It's something, anyway.
"Where are you staying?"
"My folk's." He said with distain.
"You and your mom getting along?"
"You have met my mom, right?"
"Yeah, I have. I still remember her patting me down to ensure that I didn't bring any drugs into her house."
