How I Helped Jeff

When I, Lucas Simon, lost Sarah, my wife of five years, to a private plane crash I barely had the will to go on. While my mother and sister were big helps the person who helped me most was a long term male friend, Jeff Phillips. Jeff has a pleasant empathetic way about him, was always upbeat and encouraging, and included me in many activities with other male friends, and sometimes with his wife Rosalind and/or other couples. The insurance money from Sarah's death allowed me to hire some good people to run my PR firm until I got my head out of my ass.

A year after my wife died I was feeling almost human again, and while I had no desire to start dating, everything else in my life started to fall into place. In fact, I got a lucky break, picked up a large new account for my PR firm, and at 28 had more disposable income than at any other time in my life or that I could even have optimistically predicted.

While my life had turned around about as much as could be expected, Jeff was continuing to suffer a problem that he had almost since I met him -- bitchery.

What is "bitchery" you ask?

In Jeff's case it was being married to a bitch from hell, the afore-mentioned Rosalind. Rosalind would normally (but certainly not always) be somewhat polite to Jeff when in the company of other people but one-on-one with him she was a domineering uncouth miserable human being who used Jeff as her emotional punching bag. Because of Jeff's kind and empathetic demeanor he took it. Me and some of Jeff's other friends were certain that she was ultimately going to be responsible for his demise since he exhibited more-and-more signs of stress and despite only being twenty nine was put on blood pressure medication by his doctor.

After consulting with some of our mutual friends, including a doctor, lawyer, and accountant, I had a one man intervention with Jeff when we took a Saturday morning to go fishing despite objections from the ogress, which I was able to finesse since for some reason she only treated me like an annoyance, rather than like shit as she did Jeff and most of our male friends.

Since I'm not known for subtlety I hit Jeff between the eyes after his first cast:

"Jeff, I've noticed that you've gotten really stressed and don't seem to be enjoying life like you should. Is it because of the way that Rosalind treats you?"

With a hand dog look he replied "That obvious, Lucas?"

"I'm afraid so, buddy. I can't understand why you stay with her."

After a long sigh he half-looked me in the eye and said "You're a good friend, Lucas. Can I tell you something in confidence, not to be repeated to anyone without my permission?"

I looked him square in the eye, made him look away from his bobber out in the stream into my eyes and said "I promise without equivocation, buddy."

After another deep sigh with almost breaking down into tears he replied "I have a prenup with her. I was really stupid when I signed it but if I file for divorce or leave her for any reason except infidelity by her all of our assets are split 50-50 including my business. If she has half control of my business, or I have to buy her out -- and she will be vindictive about it -- I'm sure that I'll end up on the verge of bankruptcy and all the hard work I've put into it the last eight years will be wasted."

I pondered things for a while. "Can you give me a copy of the prenup? I'll redact the names and have my attorney look it over. I want to make sure that I understand all of the details before I advise you about what I suggest that you do."

"OK," he said even evoking a small smile.

"By the way," I asked while casting my line, "one more question and then we're only talking about sports and trout; why did you ever marry her?"

Jeff got a bigger smile. "She wasn't always the way she was now, even though I had some hints that she could be a bitch. Still, at the time of the wedding I was thinking with my dick. Early in our relationship, and now the one day a fortnight that she's not a demon, she's like a $10,000 a night call girl," he said moving his eyebrows up and down.

"Sorry I asked," I chuckled; then we started talking about the local college football team's quarterback issues.

*************

There are some who believe the hotter the woman the more fucked-up and difficult she is. To prove their case those individuals could use Rosalind as Exhibit A because despite her miserable personality and character she is hotter than a forest fire!

*************

As we returned from our fishing trip we stopped by Jeff's office and he gave me a copy of his prenup, which in his presence I redacted all personal identifiers from. Monday I took it to my attorney. It only took her fifteen minutes to look it over before she described the salient points to me exactly as Jeff had. I thanked her, took her to lunch as payment, and called and reported to Jeff. At the end of our conversation I said "Jeff, I'm going to help you like you helped me and get me out of your situation. It will require some unusual things to happen and some things that I say to you in Rosalind's presence and to her will not make sense. Trust me!"

Jeff actually chuckled. "I trust you dude. Don't tell me any details, ignorance is bliss."

Then it was my turn to chuckle.

I enlisted our common friends without telling them what I had in mind. "All I need from you guys is some forbearance if I act a little strange, maybe a couple of lies, and if I need big bucks some contributions." They all loved Jeff and were on board.

The first part of my plan was to ingratiate myself with Rosalind, to the extent that her volatile personality would let me. This required me to pretend that she had been a full partner with Jeff in helping me overcome the death of my wife although she definitely was not. However, she would eat that up because she already had an overblown perception of her helpfulness.

My first act was to buy a beautiful flower arrangements which included a number of tulips, carnations, and roses, which over the years I had heard Rosalind make positive comments about. When I knew that she was home and Jeff wasn't I brought the arrangement with me to her house and rang the bell.

"Lucas -- it's a surprise to see you," she said in a tone that -- for her -- was pleasant.

"Hi Rosalind; I brought these flowers for you," I smiled.

"What?"

"Oh, let me explain; while I certainly would be happy to give you flowers at any time I think that Jeff would get jealous, so I didn't buy them. My company had a luncheon today and this was the flower arrangement that the caterer had on the head table. I thought that they would be wasted at my house but since you helped me so much in my time of need and I know that you like flowers I said to myself 'you should give them to Rosalind,' so here I am," I lied.

"Oh, they're beautiful," she exclaimed. "Come on in Lucas."

She oohed and aahed for the next twenty minutes (it really was an artistic arrangement) as we each sipped a glass of wine. I hadn't seen her continuously smile that long in the time that I'd known her. Finally when I said my goodbyes she actually gave me a real hug.

"That went really well," I said to myself as I walked to my car. I was congratulating myself for the good first start until I felt an uneasy feeling at my crotch. I had fucking tented my pants; that did not make me happy, and my mood quickly turned sour, which caused my stiffy to instantly calm down.

The next occasion to endear myself to Rosalind was when I just happened to be at the place she often went to for lunch, normally by herself since she had few friends at her workplace. It was a Deli where you ordered at the counter and then could sit down and they'd bring your order to you. I waited until I saw her approaching before going into the deli so that I'd already be there when she came in. I waited until she was just entering before I got in line so that she'd be right behind me.

I was in line, looking ahead, sensing her behind me. I turned my head to the side and she poked me. "Lucas, what are you doing here?" she asked in a non-confrontational tone.

"Rosalind; WOW; what a pleasant surprise; I was visiting a client, got hungry and saw this deli and thought that I'd give it a try."

I purchased her lunch for her; we sat at the same table, and had a pleasant chat about her work and my fictitious client and the reason for my sojourn to this particular deli. She actually smiled when I offered to walk her back to her office "In case one of the many guys who see you are overcome with lust and attack you," I grinned.

That statement obviously pleased her although she retorted something like "You must be blind," but she walked right next to me and even held my arm when we crossed the street. When we got to her building she gave me a smile and another hug goodbye. I waved as I walked in the opposite direction toward my car.

"Another successful contact," I grinned to myself. Then again I felt that uncomfortable feeling at my crotch and was disgusted by my temporarily tented pants.

The third setup encounter was on a Saturday afternoon when I arranged with Jeff for him to play golf, despite bitching from Rosalind. Rosalind loved stage plays but apparently rarely went. I had gotten two tickets for a matinee performance of an adaptation of The Glass Menagerie by Tennessee Williams. It was being performed at our city's version of an "Off Broadway" playhouse. When I arrived at the Phillips house 90 minutes before the play was supposed to start Rosalind was surprised to see me.

"Hi Lucas, what brings you here?"

"Just coming to pick up Jeff; didn't he tell you that we're going to a matinee performance of The Glass Menagerie?"

"What?" she virtually screamed. "He's playing golf; he told me nothing about that." She was starting to hyperventilate. I calmed her down and then pretended to call Jeff's cellphone. In my fake conversation I chuckled when I "heard" him say that he thought that it was next week. I reported the miscommunication to Rosalind which caused her to obviously seethe some more.

After a few more calming words from me I said in an offhand way "Well I guess I won't get to see it after all because I hate to go to things by myself." Then as I turned to walk away I pretended to have a "Eureka" moment and turned back to face her. "Uh...Rosalind...I really want to go. I know that this is a big imposition but would you possibly have time to go with me?"

Her cold stare first led me to believe that she was going to shit all over me, but to my surprise she said "You bet your ass I would, that asshole Jeff never takes me to plays. What time does it start?"

I looked at my watch. "In eighty five minutes; I came early so we could get a beer ahead of time."

"Give me ten minutes," she snapped.

"Do you mind if I call Jeff back and ask if it's all right if I take you?"

"You can if you want to as long as you agree that regardless of what he says I'm going with you; now get your ass in here and sit and wait for me and don't even let the thought of ditching me run through your brain," she snarled.

I pretended to call Jeff as she stormed up the stairs; pretend Jeff said that it was all right to take her to the play (ha, ha).

Ten minutes later Rosalind reemerged; despite wearing casual clothes she looked like a million bucks. Instead of stopping for a beer we stopped for a quick glass of wine and we were in our seats (the best in the house since the producer was a client of mine) five minutes before the curtain rose.

To say that Rosalind enjoyed it would be the understatement of the year. She literally beamed most of the way through it, when she wasn't teary-eyed that is. In this adaptation there was a happy ending where Laura actually does get married and Rosalind actually shed tears of joy, and was embarrassed that she still had tears in her eyes after the curtain call.

We stopped for another glass of wine and rehashed the play. Rosalind was more animated and perky than I had ever seen her. The only temporary downer was when I asked "Should I call Jeff and find out when he needs you home?"

"Fuck no," she snapped. "I'll get back when I get back."

We talked while sipping wine for a good hour before I drove her home. She must have thanked me ten times on the drive back, to which my refrain was always "I'm so grateful that you agreed to go, I would have hated to miss it."

When we got to her house before she exited the car -- refusing my request to go around and open the door for her -- she thanked me once more and quickly kissed me on the cheek before she exited. I should not have watched her bubble butt sashay up her front steps. That, and her kiss, again caused the heinous pants tent.

**************

My quest to ingratiate myself to Rosalind and to get her to trust me was working as well as I could have hoped. I kept in contact with Jeff, both in person and via phone (no texts or emails so that there was no electronic trail). Jeff had offered to do things with Rosalind that I had but she shot him down. With a bemused expression Jeff said "She does say that I should be more like you, but then shoots me down when I try it."

"It's coming to a head soon," I smiled. "I think that she trusts me now so I'm hopefully getting the video and photos that you need next Thursday night when you're out of town." I smiled, then cautioned "but I'm not giving details so that you have plausible deniability."

My plan for Thursday when Jeff was out of town was to get Rosalind to help me host a small event for clients. I was going to put some Ecstasy in her drinks and have a good-looking male "escort" that I was paying in cash take her to a hotel room rented under a fake name and which was set up with cameras to record them.

I picked Rosalind up for my event about 5:30 p. m. This time, dressed up, she looked like a billion dollars. The male escort -- and every other hetero male at the event -- was drooling at the sight of her.

Around 7:00 p. m. I slipped some Ecstasy into her drink. After I saw her take a few sips and when she gave me a genuine smile a sudden feeling of guilt -- overlaid with emotions that I did not understand -- came over me. I decided then that I was not going to go through with my plan. I immediately found the male escort and told him to leave -- having already paid him. He seemed disappointed but I couldn't give a shit. I then went to toss out the rest of Rosalind's drink and to take her home, but it seemed like the drug already had an effect.

The Ecstasy did not have its normal affect, however. When I approached her to remove the drink her words slurred and she suddenly fainted. Luckily I caught her before her head hit the floor.

I immediately transported Rosalind to the Emergency Room. I got the insurance information from her purse, lied that I was her brother, and they took her into surgery. I refrained from calling Jeff until I heard from the surgeon. Three hours later the surgeon came to me and reported.

"This is a highly unusual situation," Dr. Ross pensively said. "It appears that your sister ingested Ecstasy. It didn't affect her like normal people, however. It normally decreases cerebral blood flow in the motor and somatosensory cortex, amygdala, cingulate cortex, insula, and thalamus while producing high levels of serotonin. In your sister, however, it affected a previously unrecognized brain tumor, which caused her to pass out."

I didn't understand much of what he had said but pretended to. Then I asked "Why was she in surgery?"

"She had a brain tumor. We successfully and completely removed the benign tumor. It's amazing that she was able to function normally with it."

I was startled. "Uh...what would the normal effects of her tumor be?" I inquired.

"There could me many, but one that would be for certain is almost constant irritability, and perhaps lashing out as a result," Dr. Ross continued.

"Could that cause a bitchy and unpleasant personality?" I queried.

"Not the words I would use, but basically 'yes,'" he responded.

"How long will she have to be hospitalized and how long to recover from the operation?"

"She should probably stay here two or three more days, and once she purges the anesthetic from her system and recovers from the trauma caused by surgery she should be better than ever -- probably four or five days after discharge," he replied.

Our conversation lasted another five minutes then I was able to visit Rosalind about an hour later after she had recovered and was now in her own room. I called Jeff just before I went into her room, but it went to voicemail. I left a succinct message, but one that imparted all the necessary medical information.

I was shocked that the affect that my visit with Rosalind had on me. She looked tired, but essentially no different except for a shaved part of her scalp. I felt a combination of guilt, relief, joy, and -- I couldn't fucking believe it -- a tingly feeling that I hadn't felt in a long time and that was hard to diagnose. She had an enormous smile on her face.

When I sat down next to her and held her hand her smile got bigger and before I could talk she said "I remember you taking me to the hospital; you were so warm and kind; you're my savior."

I tried to demure but she put a finger over my lips and said "Don't try and deny it. Somehow my operation has freed me in a way that I can already clearly feel; and I want you to know that I cherish the relationship we've had over the last few months. Will you kiss me -- please?"

I was startled that without thinking I bent over and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. I stayed by her side for about an hour before the nurses kicked me out and said that I could return at nine o'clock the next morning.

My mind was in a complete jumble when I exited the hospital, and I slept very poorly that night trying to deal with all of the conflicting emotions wracking my brain.

The next morning Jeff and I walked into Rosalind's room about the same time. The dynamic between the three of us was a little uncomfortable since Rosalind treated me like her husband and Jeff like an acquaintance. When we were shooed out we were both confused.

After our visit I told Jeff what the doctor had told me about the benign brain tumor. "You should confirm it with Dr. Ross yourself, but that may mean that she's no longer bitchy."

"Doesn't make a difference; too much water under the bridge," he replied. "I'd always be nervous around her. Were you able to get the photos?"

"No -- she passed out first," I told him, deciding to keep to myself my dismissing of the escort and attempt to undo what I had done.

Rosalind and I talked over the phone every day for the next ten days; sometimes I called her, sometimes she called me. All conversations were upbeat.

I also talked with Jeff most of those days. Jeff said that Rosalind definitely was no longer bitchy but that she seemed not to care whether or not he was around.

On the sixteenth day after her trip to the Emergency Room, a Saturday, there was a knock on my door about 10 a. m. I opened up to see Rosalind dressed in a yellow patterned sundress with a big smile on her face. "Hi Lucas," she said in a sing-song voice.

"Hi Rosalind; good to see you; want to come in?"

"Thanks," she said as I ushered her into my living room. She sat in a love seat, me on the largest couch.

"To what do I owe the honor of your presence?" I chuckled.

"Well, I wanted to tell you about my progress and then ask you something," she replied with a smile.

After declining a beverage she talked slowly and cheerfully the next ten minutes describing how her life had changed for the better since the brain tumor was removed. "Life would be perfect if I wasn't married to Jeff," she continued with a small frown.

"Uh...why do you say that?" I asked.