My story isn't as simple as I would like to believe. My family immigrated to the US, and settled into a small Jewish community in a mid sized southern city. As in small communities, families are closer and somewhat bonded by their ethnicity as our was. Our parents were close friends as their parents were the originators of our community. Temple activities and family gathering for Holidays were bonding agents for the future generations. There were not any boys my age growing up so I had my older brother and my two friends growing up were girls. Sarah's mother and my father were friends growing up next to each other. Coming from eastern Europe, our community was mostly populated by business owners and shopkeepers, but Sarah's father was an attorney. A professional man. Rebecca Katz's family owned and operated several upscale women's clothing stores. My mother and Rebecca's mother had been best friends growing up, and had a desire to unite their families. My family was in the scrap metal business, Solomon and Son Scrap Yard. Our business was not shiny and pretty so we were not held in as much high esteem as other families. Not shunned, but definitely looked down on by some people.
In the old country it was not unheard of marrying children to strengthen community bonds. In an effort to unite their families, Rebecca's mother and mine pushed us together as much as possible even though Rebecca's father was not on board with their plan. He wore suits to work while my father wore a shirt with his name on it.
As we became teens, I wasn't against it. Rebecca was pretty. Tiny and pretty, you would call her a cheerleader build today. Even though I knew my destiny was being taken from my hands, it was Sarah that melted my heart. She was attractive but thicker and curvier than Rebecca. We connected on a more emotional level than Rebecca and I did. The three of us were inseparable through high school until Sarah went north to study law while Rebecca and I would get married before we were old enough to buy beer.
I went to our local four year university and worked for my father and Zayda. I learned more from them than I did from any university professor. By the time that I graduated with my finance degree, I was the father of two bouncing baby boys born a year and a half a part. Max was the oldest and named for my mother's father, and David was named for Rebecca's grandfather.
With my formal education completed, I offered Rebecca the opportunity to get her degree, but she was happy to be a stay at home mom. In hindsight, I am glad that she did. I believe that was important for our sons. She was definitely the prettiest soccer mom for the next twelve or thirteen years.
My informal education began with my father and Zayda. It was important to Zayda that I understood I should never let anyone know about our family wealth. Even my Bubbe didn't know their wealth. Zayda's father had lost everything, all of his wealth, to the Nazis when they took over Poland. Our salvage business was our bread and butter, but in our family, it was important to find the opportunity that would make us wealthy. My grandfather/Zayda was into gold and silver, Dad was into the stock market, my brother traded currencies, and it took me a while to find mine. I started with commodity trading, and I made money, but I found what really interested me was commercial properties.
I remember Dad smiling at me, "Let them think that you're some working schmuck. Inside you'll know that you could buy them with your pocket change."
My sons were old enough to start their training in finance. At sixteen and seventeen, I stressed to them that it is important to not be a 'hyper consumer'. Use your money to build wealth, not buy the next shiny object that catches your eye.
A shiny objects that catches an eye is Rebecca. Once the boys were in high school, a friend of hers got her to come work with her at Stevens Real Estate. She started answering phones, and setting appointments. After a month or so, she noticed the big commission checks that the agents received that she decided to get her licenses to sell real estate. Her Boss, Stevens, was happy to mentor her and help her pass the exam. He was a little too close for my comfort to my wife. He would help her close the first three or four sales.
With her first commission check, she traded our Ford Explorer for a BMW coupe. She thought that she needed to look more 'professional' to help close her sales. It's bullshit to me, it's the Katz in her coming back to the surface.
We had been married nineteen years, and I love her. I do, and I am a jealous husband. I try to control it as best as I can. Rebecca had been a wonderful wife and mother. She had worked hard to keep herself the same size as when we married, and I appreciated her efforts. She was not the most passionate lover, but she was willing partner, and she hardly ever refused my needs. I tried to be the best lover that I could be. This all changed after she had been selling real estate for seven months.
Her flashy sparkly toys and outfits were making it difficult to be portrayed as a working stiff. None of her money went into our account for the family, she blew through it quickly. She worked more evenings showing houses, then drinks out with the Stevens crew. I don't think that she realized that we had sex less, but I had the feeling that something was different when we did. I think it was sloppy seconds sometimes.
If she decided that she wanted a divorce, I'd give it to her. Her father's prenup protected me. Her grandfather had left her a Trust Fund but she couldn't access before she was mature, he assigned forty years old. I cared about her, and loved her, but it was an arranged marriage. There was love but not a passion between us. What bothered me was the disrespect of it all.
The straw that broke the camel's back was the company picnic.
Max and David had a baseball game that afternoon, so the three of us didn't get to the Lakeside Park picnic site until after three pm. I loved the looks that I get from Uppity people when I pull up in my work truck, a ten year old Ford F150 crew cab truck with Solomon and Sons painted on the doors. People like that cringe when I park next to their Audis and Beamers.
While the boys helped themselves to the catered lunch, I looked for my wife. I ask around and her coworkers had strange looks on their faces so I knew that each was keeping a secret.
I looked and saw the boys eating at a picnic table, so I headed toward the path that lead to the lake where I saw Rebecca and Stevens walking hand in hand up the stone pathway back to the picnic like a couple in love.
When I headed directly toward them, several men that worked with Rebecca made an intercept course toward me. We all arrived at the same place together.
Stevens smiled a smug smile. "Rebecca, look it's your husband 'Scrappy'." The men and Stevens laughed a fake laugh while my wife looked uneasy. I didn't care that Stevens wanted to disrespect me by calling me names, that I could buy all his assets allowed me a satisfaction, but the disrespect that I couldn't take was that he was fucking my wife. That explained a lot to me like how our sex life was greatly reduced, and why she was working late so much.
Looking Stevens in the eyes, I said. "If you think trying to belittle me will bother me, you're wrong. I get that you think you need to belittle me to make yourself seem better. I don't care about that." He looked angry at me. "What I do want to know is how long you have been fucking my wife?"
Smugly he boasted, "That is none of your concern, you do not own her."
Rebecca slowly drew behind Stevens with her head downward. She was embarrassed that I was causing a scene, but more importantly that she was guilty and I found her out. "I may not own her, but I have a contract with her. Signed and recognized by this State where we pledged before God and our families that we would forsake all others 'til Death do us part."
I looked at Stevens. He knew that I was angry, and he didn't want this to get physical with me. "Stevens, I've put up with your snide remarks over the last six months, in an effort to belittle me, but it doesn't bother me. I've dealt with pricks like you my whole life."
"If you want my wife, you can buy out her contract with me. She's gonna make 80k by year end, so she should work another 30 years until retirement age so that 2.4 mil, I'll give you a bargain buy-out price today of 2 mil."
Rebecca squinted her eyes at me. She knew me, and understood that I was saying she was a whore, and I was her pimp. Selling her to another pimp.
"Oh, right. You're not that liquid are you? And, besides, you have a wife. Wonder where she is today?" I looked around.
His goons, grabbed me from behind by my shoulders. "You can't talk to Mr Stevens like that. The one on my left, held my arm with his left arm, and hit me in the head with something. It hurt like hell. I heard the boys holler for me as I focused.
I stomped my right foot down on the right goon's left foot. He loosened his grip enough to pull my right arm free. I slammed my right fist in the left goons nose. He let me go as he needed both hands to hold his gushing nose.
