Frank Vandenberg propped himself against the wall of the loading dock and surveyed the action before him. One by one, workers disappeared into the truck and emerged shortly thereafter with a handful of boxes.
"Keep it moving, boys!" Frank shouted, taking a sip of coffee. "We have another shipment coming in at any minute!"
"You got it, boss," one of the workers responded without glancing toward Frank's direction.
Frank heard the unmistakable groan of a large truck's brakes and peeked around the rig parked in the bay. The next shipment had arrived, a little sooner than he expected. He glanced at his watch, and then looked around the warehouse. Spotting no one in the vicinity, he made the executive decision to unload a few of the remaining boxes from the truck himself. He strode inside to the back of the rig, lifted one of the boxes, and then immediately dropped it to the floor. He winced in pain, and fell to his knees, shouting a profanity that echoed off the walls of the interior.
A man holding a clipboard sprinted toward the commotion. "Jesus, Frank! What the hell did you do?"
"I was trying to help," Frank responded, lifting himself onto one knee. "My fucking back went out again."
"Dammit, Frank, I told you not to do that again!" the man said, helping Frank to his feet. "Now get the hell out of here."
"But we have another shipment coming in!" Frank protested.
"I said get out of here. You're done for the day. We got this. Go lie down somewhere. That's an order."
Frank looked at his supervisor and nodded silently. Clutching his lower back, he hobbled toward the door and exited the warehouse. By the time he reached the entrance to his apartment building, he could barely walk. Pain radiated along his lower back and down along his left leg. With a noticeable limp, he entered the building and strode down the hall.
He had just inserted his key into the lock when he heard the sound that would change his life forever. It was the unmistakable sound of his wife in mid-orgasm.
"Oh, god!" he faintly heard as he pressed his ear to the door. "Fuck yeah! Fuck that pussy! Oh! Oh, fuck!"
The numbers on the door before him became blurry. A venomous rage boiled within him, causing his stomach to churn. He could taste the bile at the back of his throat. Trembling with anger, he slowly turned the key.
Suddenly, he released the key and stumbled backward into the hallway, smashing into the opposite wall with a thud.
"Fuck!" he whispered to himself. "That fucking cunt! That lying, cheating, fucking bitch! That filthy whore!"
A door cracked open beside him and a man peeked his head into the hallway.
"Everything okay, Frank?" the man asked.
Frank turned to face him, his face reddened and his jaw and fists clenched. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead. "No, it's not okay, Walt!" he said, trying his best to keep his voice down. "That fucking cunt of a wife I have is over there getting fucked by some asshole! That miserable fucking whore is cheating on me!"
Walt's eyes widened, and he scratched his chin and scanned both ends of the hallway. "Aw, shit, Frank. Listen, why don't you come inside and calm down for a minute. I don't want you doing anything you might regret later."
Walt took him by the shoulder and gently guided him inside his room, closing the door behind him. He pulled out a chair at a small table, and Frank sat, his expression consumed with fury. Walt placed a glass in front of him, and then sat across the table with one of his own.
"Tell me what happened," Walt said.
"I came home early," Frank said, taking a healthy swig from his glass. "She wasn't expecting me. I was just about to turn that key when I heard them in there." He jerked his thumb toward the door.
"Yeah? What did you hear?"
"Luanne! She was screaming and yelling while some scumbag fucked her! It sounded like he's giving it to her good and hard! She was in mid-orgasm when I got to the door."
"Damn, Frank. I don't know what to say. Luanne doesn't seem like the type to cheat on you. Are you sure about this?"
Frank stared straight into his neighbor's eyes. "You don't think I know what my wife sounds like when she's having an orgasm?"
Walt waved his hands in defense. "No, no, no, Frank! That's not what I meant. I just...shit...what are you gonna do?"
"I'll tell you what I'm gonna do," Frank said, taking another big gulp of liquor. "I'm gonna finish this drink. Then, I'm gonna go across the hallway and beat the living shit out of whoever is fucking my wife. Then I'm gonna divorce the bitch and take everything she has."
"Now, hold on, Frank," Walt said. "You gotta think this through. If you go over there all half-cocked, she could use that to claim you're violent, file a restraining order, and get full custody of the kids. No, no, no. You need to be smart about this. Do it the right way."
Frank sat back in his chair and winced in pain. Walt was right, he had to admit. His kids were his world. Janey was fifteen years old, but she was still daddy's little girl. And Marty was just a kid. Only nine years old, he wouldn't understand what was happening, and he needed his father to guide him through the years ahead and warn him about women like his mother. Divorce was imminent; there was no doubt about that. It would happen on his terms, though. Knowing what he now knew, he held the upper hand.
***
"Frank, are you in?"
Frank raised his head and paused for a moment to consider the question. His focus returned to the matter at hand, and he perused the cards he held in his hands. He nudged a plastic chip into the center of the table.
"You okay, Vandy?" said the man to his right.
"Frank had a rough day last week," Walt explained, tossing a chip onto the pile. "He found out his wife, Luanne, is cheating on him."
This elicited a collective gasp from the group of men seated around the table. "Shit, Frank!" Jackson said. "That's harsh, man. Did you kill the bitch or what?"
The action of the card game paused as the group leaned in to hear Frank's response. "No, I didn't kill her," he said. "In fact, I didn't even mention it to her."
"Well, why the fuck not?" Arthur said, shaking his head in disgust. "If it were me, I would've killed her. Don't tell me you're turning into one of those wimpy willing cucks!"
The other men chuckled while Frank stared intently at his hand. He tossed another chip into the pile. "Of course not, you asshole. I'm playing it smart."
"How so, Vandy?" Arthur asked.
"Well, I started by contacting Ray. You know Ray, the guy who owns the electronics store? He gave me a deal on one of those video cameras they use for security. It was pretty expensive, but at this point, money is no object."
"Yeah? What did you do with it?" Jackson asked.
"Well, I had Ray install it in our bedroom, facing the bed."
The men chuckled again, and exchanged knowing grins.
