First We Practice To Deceive Alison

This was a story I wrote some time ago then left. It was intended as the first of a line of independent stories, but I am not sure I like the way it went. The story, and another one that is partly finished, have come across as very noir. I have decided to publish, and let others give me feedback. Is it too dark?

Thank to kenjisato my editor. The editors never get enough credit for making stories hang together.

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Alison and I (Jack) had been married for four years. We were both in our late twenties and thoroughly enjoying married life. We both had good jobs and had a plan. I was working hard to get a promotion to a VP role, and was putting in the hours. Alison's salary from her job, as a seamstress in the local factory, was being saved for a deposit on a house. In about six months, we would be able to buy the house and with my promotion, we would be able to live on one salary so she could stop working to have children. She loved kids and she wanted to be a mother more than anything else. She understood we needed to be financially secure, but if I didn't insist on it, she would not care.

It was a Friday in early April, and I was up early to go to work. Today was a big day in the push for the promotion, as I had a presentation to the board on a new product we were working on. There were three teams making the pitch, and it was well understood that the lead on the winning pitch would get the VP's post. We had worked hard and our pitch was to be made at ten o'clock this morning.

As I came out of the bathroom, Alison was awake and she said, "Good luck with the pitch, and make sure you come home early. I want to take you out to celebrate and talk about a few things."

I knew I would be exhausted after the presentation, and it would be a push to get away early, but Alison had been very forgiving of the early mornings, late nights, and all of the other things that go with major stress in someone's life. I owed her big time and I was looking forward to a relaxing night.

The pitch went well, and two of the senior board members congratulated me, a sign that we were very much in the hunt to win. When I arrived home around five-thirty, I was in a good mood and I walked up stairs to find my wife dressed to the nines ready to go out. I whistled when I saw her, and said, "Where are we going?"

She gave me a killer smile. "That new French restaurant, you have worked so hard to secure our future, I thought you deserved something special."

I'm more of a burger-and-fries guy, but Alison wanted a special night, I might as well give it to her. A bit of loving was clearly on her agenda, and I was looking forward to it. I went into the bathroom to freshen up and change, with a spring in my step. I thought I heard Alison talking, but left it at that.

The restaurant was just off Castle Street, with plenty of parking. It was small and the food was good. I had eaten there about a month ago, at a business meeting. I was looking forward to an intimate evening.

When we arrived, there were only two other couples and we were seated near the back, in a quiet corner. We talked about the presentation and how it had gone. We both picked starters and main courses from the menu, and as the waiter left our table, I noticed a strange couple come in and take a seat without waiting for the waiter.

I sort-of recognised him, but could not place him in my mind. He was in his early forties, in reasonable shape, and clearly smelt of money. She was twenty, twenty-one at most, and looked out of place. Too old to be his daughter, too young to be his date. She had a large bag from which she pulled out a clipboard and a few other things, then got up and went over to speak to one of the other couples.

The conversation took a few minutes, she made some notes on the clipboard then went back to their table. By this time, the man was talking to the waiter as if they were friends. I also noticed Alison was quiet and slightly nervous. Also, her phone was on the table, and we had a rule in the house, no phones at the dinner table. Something wasn't feeling right.

The girl continued to go to the other tables, speak for a few minutes, taking notes then leave. The man sat impassively, talking to the waiter, but clearly not ordering and I watched as my wife was clearly distracted by something.

The girl came to our table and said, "Hi, I'm Judy, and I am a psychology and ethics student at the college, and I am completing a survey to be included in my final dissertation. Would you be willing to participate?"

I looked at her, and said, "I'm sorry, my wife and I are here for a special celebration and I don't want the disturbance. Perhaps, if you give us your cell number, we will call and do it another time."

The look on her face was one of total confusion. It was like she had been told I would not say no, and had not planned for this.

My wife piped up quickly, "Now, Jack, this girl needs our help. I am sure we can give her a moment of our time."

This was strange for my wife, she hated interruptions like this.

I said, "Please, not now, we have so much to discuss."

But she was insistent, saying, "Please, go ahead and ask your questions."

I let out a very deep sigh, and then the first question came in.

"Have you seen the film 'Indecent Proposal'?"

I replied, "No."

But my wife said, "No, we haven't, but we know the plot line."

I had taken a deep dislike to this girl, and when I looked over at the man she had come in with, he had stopped talking to the waiter and was now watching our table; something he had not done with the other tables.

Judy looked at me, but I refused to look at her, and she said, "Jack, may I call you Jack? What is your view of such a proposal, and the impact on a marriage?"

I couldn't help it, but I said, "I get the feeling you don't care whether I consent to the use of my name, but a proposal like that, if accepted by my wife, would lead to instant divorce."

Alison's head snapped up, but Judy didn't break her stride. She asked further, "Do you think you can control your wife's body by refusing her such a thing?"

I laughed. "Absolutely not, my answer specifically said if she accepted the offer. I would not stop her, but when she was away doing whatever it was she was doing, I would be at our house splitting the bank accounts, packing my bags, and organising the divorce paperwork."

Judy then said, "But if the offer was, say, two million dollars? Would it not set you up for life? If the offer was set up so you wouldn't get a penny if you divorced her, would that change your mind?"

"She would know me better than that, Judy," I said, looking her directly in the eye for the first time. "I make enough money working for a living. I don't need to earn money pimping my wife out like a cheap hooker. In fact, if she did accept the money, I would refuse to take any of it in the divorce. Dirty money doesn't bring you happiness. So, no, that offer wouldn't change my actions. Now, I need to go to the bathroom and cancel our order, you have ruined my mood, and I don't want any food. Alice, be ready to leave when I get back."

I stood up quickly. I walked in the direction of the restrooms. I stopped at the waiters station, and said, "Please cancel the order for our table. The people you let in have disturbed us, and I no longer wish to eat here."

The waiter looked at me. "But, that gentleman is paying your bill for helping out on the survey."

I was flummoxed, so I just turned and walked to the restroom.

I had a bad feeling, and just knew the other shoe was about to drop.

From my last visit to the restaurant I knew I could go round the back to the restroom and stand where I could see the tables without being seen. I stood and watched my wife type a text on her phone. The man's phone pinged, and he picked it up and started to type. When he pressed send, my wife's phone pinged and she picked it up, read and typed, then his phone went. I watched this for a few minutes, and it was pretty obvious they were texting each other.

I walked back to the table. "Who's that idiot with Judy?"

Alison looked around, and said, "I don't know, why?"

"Oh something smells wrong, he just paid for our meal. I think I know him, but can't place him and you and him appear to be having a text conversation," I said, as a matter of fact.

Alison, had a dead-give-away look when she had been caught, but blurted out, "He was just being nice after she interrupted our meal."

I answered, "I am not in a good mood and have lost my appetite, it's time we left."

Alison was getting flustered. She offered, "No, we should not be that rude, just sit here and relax, I am going to the restroom."

I watched her walk away, and I noticed that she had glanced at the man.

Judy then came over to me and sat down, putting her hand on the table near mine. She said, "Just a follow up question. Would you consider any figure as reasonable?"

I laughed and put my hand on hers. She didn't move it. I said, "A prostitute selling her body, twenty dollars, or two million dollars, it doesn't affect the outcome. So, no. No amount will work." As I said that, I started to apply pressure to her hand.

She had fine hands and mine were large, so the pressure applied became painful very quickly. She said, "Stop that now."

I said, "No, not until you tell me what I want to know.". By now, I was close to breaking one of her fingers, and I stopped the pressure, but did not release her hand.

She said, "If you don't stop this, I will scream."

I just smiled. "Go ahead, but I bet you don't because there is something wrong here and I doubt you want the problem of the police being called when I beat the shit out of you. And right now, I'm so angry, I will. Tell me, who is he?"

She tried to pull her hand away, and I squeezed again. This time, a finger cracked under the pressure, and she started to cry. I kept the pressure up and the man came running.

I shouted, "Stop, or the rest of her fingers will go the same way."

He stood, and my wife came up, saying, "What's going on?"

I smiled at her. "Well Alison, that's exactly what I am trying to find out. Judy, if you want your hand to remain pretty, I suggest you answer my question now."

With tears running down her face, she said, "Simon Armitage, Junior."

I let her hand go. "Get out of here now, never come near me again."

I looked at this Simon Armitage, Jr., and worked out who he was. Simon Armitage owned the factory Alison worked for, and this was obviously his eldest son. I had met him at a couple of things, but he was a non-entity, who only had a job in factory management because of his father. He had a playboy reputation, and there had been a few rumours about him going after married women because he thought it made him a 'big' man.

Alison came over and sat down. "Simon has offered us two million dollars if I spend the weekend with him. I have accepted, as it will set us up for life. We can buy the new house mortgage free, we can set up the kids' trust funds for college, and we can start working on our baby next weekend. We don't have to wait for your promotion."

I just looked at the table. "You have accepted?"

She said, "Yes," just as Simon Armitage, Jr. sat down.

I didn't move, nor look at him.

Then, he said, "I can make all your dreams come true. And all it will cost you is forty-eight hours of your wife's time. The agreement is very simple. I will transfer two million dollars to your joint account on Sunday night when she phones me to confirm you are still in the house. If you have left, I will open Alison an account where you won't be able to touch it. Your choice."

I looked up at Alison, but spoke to him, "You can stick your two million dollars where the sun doesn't shine. If my wife wants to be a whore, I don't want her or the money. I am leaving now. If she is in the car, we might be able to put our marriage back together. But, if she's not, then I will be packed and gone long before she is back. So, it's make-up-your-mind time, Alison."

Alison looked at me defiantly. "Jack, I want a baby now, not wait for another two years, while you get the financing in place. This gives us that opportunity, and you are going to throw it away."

I started to laugh, which appeared to unnerve her somewhat. "There will be no babies in our foreseeable future. This little stunt has destroyed my trust in you so much, that even if you walk away now, we will be in counselling for years. If you go with him, then I would never touch that stinking cunt of yours, even with a twenty-foot, disinfected, barge pole."

I chose the word 'cunt' deliberately, knowing she hated that word. The look on her face was priceless, and when she spoke, I could feel the spittle coming out of her mouth.

"I hate that word, how could you be so degrading as to use it about me."

I stood up, dropping my napkin on the food that had just arrived, and said, "The word is more than appropriate because it accurately describes what I think about this little drama, and how I now feel about you. I'm leaving, Alison. Make-up-your-mind time."

I started to walk out, while the asshole went to stand up, but he was off balance and I put my hand on his forehead and pushed him back into the seat, and watched as it tipped him backwards. I kept walking, and the waiter went to stand in front of me, but I put my hand up as if to push him away, and he just stepped back. I heard Alison shouting my name, as the door closed behind me.

I walked briskly to the car, opened the door and got in. I took a couple of deep breaths and let them out, allowing the stress to flow from my body, before turning the engine over. I drove slowly past the restaurant, and Alison was still in there. I sped up and drove home.

I pulled a suitcase down from the closet shelf, and started to pack. I was on autopilot, and had all my clothes and toiletries in a couple of suitcases and black bags within an hour.

Then, the phone rang and it was Alison. She said, "How are you baby? I am sorry for the way this played out, but this offer is too good to give up. I will be switching my phone off now, and l will see you on Sunday around seven."

I didn't speak, just held the phone to my ear. The silence was obviously painful to her, but I felt numb. She was actually going to do it because she thought it would be good for us.

She then said, "Look, we can discuss this on Sunday when I get back. I want to have a baby as soon as possible and this makes the baby's life secure."

I just asked, "And who's going to be the father?"

She was taken aback, but said, "You, of course."

"Not in this lifetime," and I hung up the phone.

I packed everything, including my other personal things, in the car. I then went to bank online, signed in to the house-deposit account, and withdrew half. I then went to an online divorce service and completed the application, paid the fee, and arranged for Alison to be served at eight o'clock Monday morning.

As I was leaving the house for the last time, a car pulled up and Alison came rushing out, shouting.

"Stop, Jack. Stop. It was only a practical joke, a late April Fools Joke."

The driver was the asshole, and he got out, saying, "It was a joke. We thought you would come back to the restaurant. We have been there for the last two hours, then Alison got your email on the divorce, and we came rushing back."

I just looked at Alison. "If this was a joke, it has been so bad, it has done irreparable damage to our marriage. I need to get away from here for a couple of days and think." With that, I got into my car.

As I started the engine, I could hear her shout, "Please withdraw the divorce papers!"

On Saturday afternoon, I was sitting in my brother's house with him and his wife, Becky. Becky had spoken to Alison a few hours earlier, and she came back to tell us about it.

"Jack," she started, "I don't think this was a joke, but it certainly was not an attempt to sleep with another man. She is so desperate to have children, she would do anything. On the other hand, she was not actually going to go through with it. Her idea was to get you to say that you have enough money to look after her, and then she could say, 'well, if you have enough money you don't need to wait to have children.'

"He is her friend at work, but believe me, he is not remotely interested in having sex with Alison. In fact, he would probably prefer you, but she now realises she set up a position where you have lost all trust in her. She thinks that if you would just have a child, all the love and trust would flow back. The question is, can you do that?"

That was the killer question. Ever since Alison's best friend had become pregnant six months ago, she had constantly asked me when we could start our family. The problem was pulling this shit meant that I was unsure of everything, and I certainly didn't want to bring a baby into a dysfunctional family. I got up from the table, and went to bed at four o'clock in the afternoon, just so I could think.

By Sunday, my mind was no clearer. My real problem was the two hours. If this had really been a setup, either a joke or an attempt to force the issue on the baby, she would have come home immediately. The fact she didn't, meant she had a lot more to talk about to Simon. I also didn't buy the 'Simon prefers you' statement.

I decided to let the divorce papers be served. What goes around comes around.

One month later...

Alison, with the help of Simon, had gotten a shark of an attorney, and the court had mandated twelve counselling sessions at three a week for four weeks. We sat in front of the counsellor, a youngish woman, who was looking at me like my teacher had in the first grade when I couldn't recite the full alphabet. Alison was in full flow about her plan, and how it had been cooked up by Simon. Ironically, Judy really was a psychology student, and she really was writing a paper on how men reacted to stressful situations. I was going to be her big case study.

When Alison finished, the counsellor looked at me, and almost spat out the words, "Well, Jack, you have heard the full story; why are you persisting with the divorce, while your wife wants and needs you?"

"Yep," I thought, "Jack is going to get the crap beat out of him three times a week for the next four weeks!" I looked the counsellor in the eye, and said, "Do you actually believe that, because I don't. There is a two-hour black hole in her account. What did she do from when I left the restaurant, to when she got home. Plenty of time to get a room, fuck, and get home."

I heard Alison take a deep breath, and the counsellor raised herself in the seat. As she went to speak, I said, "I haven't finished yet, and we agreed not to interrupt when other people are talking, so I expect you to follow those rules. She has never discussed those two hours; she has never provided any explanation, and she has never provided any evidence. What happened in those two hours is the real story of that night; yet, all you talk about is the build-up."

The counsellor was indignant. "You need to get over this, then you and your wife can resume your marriage."

I stood up, and said, "Your role is to see if our marriage can be saved, not to browbeat me into staying in a marriage I want out of. Unless she proves to me what happened in that two-hour window, I am out of here."

The counsellor reported me to the judge for failure to cooperate, and two days later, I found myself back in court.

The judge looked me up and down, like he was looking at something he had scraped off his shoe. "Why are you refusing to cooperate with counselling?"

I replied, "Perhaps you should listen to the tape of the first session. The counsellor stated that I had to forget about Alison's actions. Your honour, it is not the counsellor's role to lecture me. I need to know the truth of that night and both my wife and the counsellor are trying to hide it. Cooperation is a two-way street. If they refuse to answer my questions, then I can't do what they ask, which is to forgive my wife because I don't know what she has done."