This story is fiction. Any fictional sex is between consenting fictional adults. Nothing new here, but took a slightly different approach. Focus is not on the husband who is betrayed, but his best friend who stood up for him.
"The world is so unpredictable. Things happen suddenly, unexpectedly. We want to feel we are in control of our own existence. In some ways we are, in some ways we're not. We are ruled by the forces of chance and coincidence." Paul Auster
My name is Salvatore Benedetti. My friends call me Sal. I travel for business a decent amount; on average, about ten days a month. I don't mind, I'm single, no kids and I make a pretty good living. I have the quirks of a seasoned traveler. Little patience for novice vacationers at the airport. I travel light, never checking a bag when I fly. Hotels only get one chance with me. If they get my reservation wrong or have a rude staff, I'm gone.
So, as I'm standing in the parking lot of the Chicago downtown Marriott at 2:30 AM in my running shorts and tee-shirt that also serve as my usual nightwear I'm pissed. The fire alarm woke me out of a dead sleep and being on the 12th floor concierge level, it is a long walk down to street level. Fortunately, it is June, and the early morning air isn't too chilly. I'm wearing a ball cap pulled down low just to make sure other guests around know I'm not interested in discussing the reason for the alarm.
As I stand off to the side a face catches my attention. A woman, about my age, tall and full-figured, her hair pulled back in a ponytail is leaning against an equally tall fellow. He's a well-built guy who is holding her warmly in his arms whispering in her ear. Her face is flushed, and she is giggling like a schoolgirl who has just been told a naughty joke. At one point, she leans up and kisses him warmly on the lips, her hand stroking his cheek. Clearly, they are lovers, who were interrupted by the fire alarm. He's probably telling her something about how lucky they were that one of the firemen didn't barge into the room and catch them.
My chest started to heave, and my breathing became short. He looks vaguely familiar, but I couldn't quite place him. I knew I would when I shook off the cobwebs of deep sleep. The woman, on the other hand, I know quite well. I'd had dinner with she and her husband five nights ago. Her name is Lilly Wellston, and she is the wife of my best friend, Tim Wellston Sr. I was godfather to Tim Jr. one of their two kids.
Time to pause for some context.
Tim and I grew up five blocks away from each other and went to school together since kindergarten. Those five blocks of separation between our homes may as well have been on opposite sides of the planet, they were so different.
Tim lived on the edge of a decent blue-collar neighborhood in Lexington, Kentucky. His dad "Big Ed" was a cop and his mom, Tina was a middle school math teacher. Between the two of them they made decent money, had a modest but nice home and were able to provide for their four kids, Tim being the youngest.
If you walked three blocks east of Tim's house, crossed the RR tracks, turned left, and went two more blocks you'd be in another world, in my neighborhood. I never met my deadbeat dad and my mom worked two jobs to keep a roof over our heads. I had an older brother Mike, who also tried to help earn some money as he grew up. Between nights on the cleaning crew of Good Samaritan Hospital, and working the lunch counter at a local diner, mom kept our bodies and souls together.
Tim and I became fast friends in sixth grade. School had let out and I was walking home when I spotted four eighth grade boys encircling Tim, pushing, and punching him. My older brother Mike had taught me how to take care of myself and to never back down from a bully.
His advice was straightforward. "If a fight is coming, hit first, and hit the hardest you can. Stand your ground and even if you take a beating, you'll be respected."
As I moved closer to see what was going on, it became clear that 4 v 1 was a bad deal for Tim. Not being bashful and having already been in a few fights, I plowed into the group knocking everyone to the ground. I grabbed the biggest guy, a kid named Wayne Parker, and punched him as hard as I could square in the jaw. He was stunned and stayed down.
"What's going on?" I screamed in rage. I had, and still have, a deep desire for fairness and I was irate that four had ganged up on one.
One of the boys, Tony Simmons replied, "Wayne told Tim he wanted his lunch money tomorrow and Tim told him no. Wayne wanted to teach him a lesson."
I was fuming. "Tim is this true?" He looked at me with a bloody nose and said, "Yep, that's right. No way Wayne is getting my money." Being from the wrong side of the tracks also causes one to be quick on their feet. Solutions didn't need to be perfect but being frozen in idleness was a recipe for disaster. I took stock and made my pronouncement.
I glared at Wayne's three compatriots. "You three, butt out! If any of you try to jump in and help Wayne, I'll kick your ass. If the three of you manage to take me, my brother Mike will come around to set things straight. Got it?"
My brother Mike was one tough cookie. Even the neighborhood thugs steered clear of him. When he was fourteen, a twenty-year-old drug dealer tried forcing him to sell for him. Mike refused and this fuckwad decided he'd show Mike who was boss. When the dust settled, he'd lost four teeth, had two broken ribs, and could never see clearly again out of his right eye. The cops were going to arrest Mike for assault, but James Aubrey told the cops everything and they let Mike go. At the time, James was the biggest, toughest SOB in our neighborhood, maybe in all North Lexington. Nobody ever messed with Mike again and he became a good friend to Aubrey.
Four years later Mike signed up for a hitch in the Marine Corps. He spent eight years rising to the rank of Staff Sergeant before he left the Corps, moved back home, and joined the LPD. He's now a homicide detective on the major case squad. To this day he is a loyal friend to James Aubrey and there still isn't anyone who fucks with him.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch... I doubted seriously that my brother would bother to intervene if I couldn't handle myself against three kids only two years older. But they didn't know that, so they all nodded in agreement.
"Okay Wayne, now it's one on one. If you can whip Tim, go ahead, but if he kicks your ass, you're going to leave him alone for good." An evil grin passed across Wayne's less than intelligent face. Obviously, he thoughts he could take Tim, no problem. "Sure Sal, whatever."
Long story short, they fought to a draw. Parker had three inches and at least twenty pounds on Tim, but he underestimated his opponent. Tim wasn't much of a fighter, but one thing was for certain, you'd have to kill him to get him to quit. If you've ever seen the Paul Newman movie, Cool Hand Luke you remember the scene where Newman's character Luke goes toe to toe with Dragline, played by George Kennedy. Dragline whips Luke, but Luke wont' stay down. He just keeps coming back swinging wildly even after he's beat. That is the moment where Luke earns everyone's respect.
Tim definitely got the worst of it, but he never quit, landing two or three good shots of his own. Eventually Wayne just gave up and walked away. Tim never lost his lunch money, and nobody ever tried to take it away from him again. As I walked him home our friendship was cemented.
"Why did you do that? You didn't have to take up for me."
"I dunno, I hate bullies I guess."
"Thanks, I'm grateful."
"No worries kid. Wasn't going to fight your battle for you but wanted to make sure you at least had a chance."
"I'd have been pissed if you tried to fight for me, but thanks for making the odds fair."
"No worries, see ya later."
From that day on we were "Sal and the Kid." I rarely called him Tim, just Kid. His parents liked me once they got to know me, and Mike took a shine to him as soon as he heard me tell the tale of his fight. Mike was a junior in high school at the time and he decided with his temperament, the Kid needed to learn how to box. Mike wore his ass out three nights a week, but the Kid was a quick study and by the time Mike left for bootcamp, even I didn't enjoy getting in the ring with my best friend.
We did all the usual high school shit together. Girls, beer, sports, and some pot when we could get our hands on it. The Kid was an excellent student, and I had a friendly demeanor that helped us with the young ladies. Just to be clear, neither of us got laid until after high school but it wasn't for lack of trying.
The Kid went to college and got a degree in business. I managed two years of JuCo and came out with an Associates Degree in something called Interdisciplinary Studies. I'm pretty sure it meant "Jack of all trades, master of none."
The Kid met and fell in love with Lil in college. I stayed single but was best man at his wedding two years after he graduated. He went to work at a local bank, and I started up my own landscaping business. We both did OK and three years later, I stood godfather to Tim Jr. Lil had Mary two years after that, about the same time the Kid hung out his own shingle in the world of finance.
Three years later I was doing OK with my small company when the Kid dropped by for a visit one afternoon. We talked for a couple hours, and the gist of our conversation was the Kid wanted to bring a handful of investors in with me so I could expand. Tim explained it all in a way I could understand. The net result was, in just under a month I had a check for $200,000.00 and was able to double my equipment and crews overnight. I became a serious player in the landscaping world of North Central Kentucky, eventually opening operations in Louisville, Cincinnati, Indianapolis, and Nashville. I also began to occasionally rep for John Deere which is why I'm on the road more often than not.
So here I was, standing in a Chicago hotel parking lot at 2:30 in the morning, feeling like my world was crashing in around me. I loved Lil like a sister and never suspected she'd cheat on the Kid. They'd been married now for about twelve years, and everything seemed to be great. Sure, they fought from time to time like every couple, but the Kid was a good husband and father. He worked hard, but never missed an anniversary, birthday, or holiday. He took Lil away from time to time for a long weekend just to make sure he always romanced her. She seemed to adore her husband, so I had no reason to believe that they were anything other than great.
I began to control my breathing and tried to focus on what I should do. Lil still hadn't spotted me, but I knew that could change in an instant. I took out my phone and snapped a few pictures and then switched to video and let it run for a minute or two. I had plenty of evidence that these two were way more than friends. The last clip I caught was him leaning down for a long kiss while grabbing her ass. It was all I could do not to walk across the parking lot and cave in his face.
After about an hour we received the "all clear" and re-entered the hotel. I waited long enough to see them get on the elevator with about six other folks. Their car stopped on 8, 9 and 14. Knowing more, but not nearly enough, I decided there was nothing more to do at the moment, so I returned to my room and proceeded to toss and turn until six AM when I went for a long run to burn off my anger and frustration.
Later that morning I saw dipshit again from a distance. I still hadn't put a name with a face, but I knew it would come to me sooner or later. He was standing at the front desk when I slipped in line behind him so I could overhear his conversation.
"Yes Dr. Porter, how may I help you?"
"I'm headed out for the day to attend some meetings, but my wife is staying here. Could you call her in about an hour and let her know she's set up for a spa day?"
"Certainly sir, that's Mrs. Porter, room 1419, spa day, complements of her loving husband."
