Vignette: 3:33 Am

Vignette: 3:33 am

Midway through the witching hour he stirred, fighting off the recurrent nightmare that plagued him around this time nightly. Lying on his back, he let his breathing and heart rate slow, and reached to his left, where his wife slept. He would stroke her silken thigh; she would stir and scoot into the middle of the king-size bed so he could hold her. Without awakening, she would lay her head on his shoulder, press her body against his, purr, and sleep like that until dawn.

The feel of her silky skin and her cuddling reassured and calmed him, although the combination of his hand on her thigh and her body pressed against him sometimes led to the kind of sleepy middle-of-the-night sex she loved and needed. They worked long hours at demanding jobs and had children, so the desire for sex at bedtime was too often overrun by fatigue. But after a few hours of rejuvenation, desire would win out, and they met their needs before returning to sleep for a few more hours and then starting another day in their little paradise.

Archie's hand landed on the cool bed sheet, not her warm thigh, so he stretched his arm and reached to find her, but didn't. Confused, he raised his head: she wasn't there! His heart raced, and he sat up; was he still asleep, adrift in the nightmare? Was this just a new way for his unconscious brain to torture him?

Or had she just gotten up to use the restroom? The thought relieved him, and he lay still, waiting for her return. When her side of the bed remained empty, he arose and went looking for her. She wasn't in the bathroom or the kitchen, so he wandered into the living room, and then to the vacant bedrooms meant for their children. Perhaps his tossing and turning was keeping her awake and she moved to another bed. No: all three were empty.

He walked through the house and looked out at the carport; her car was sitting in its place beside his pickup and the van was in its place in the third stall. He stared at their vehicles for a moment, and then the events of the night came flooding out of his sleepy confusion.

Even though he had to travel to the city tomorrow to make an important presentation, Robin had insisted they go to the Wild Horse Saloon to hear a hot regional band she was crazy about. He was reluctant, knowing he needed to be fresh and on top of his game, for the sake of his company and those who worked for him. There were millions at stake, and, although he seemed to have the inside track, it wasn't a done deal. This was that golden opportunity he couldn't mess up.

They had argued, then negotiated, and arrived at an agreement. As usual, she got her way, but not before she agreed they would leave by midnight so he could get at least five or six hours of sleep before he had to get up. The city was about 90 minutes away on a normal Saturday and the meeting was at ten, so he needed to be up by 6:30 so he could be on the road by 8:00.

The problem was, at midnight she was heading for the dance floor with her umpteenth partner of the night. He stopped her, reminded her of their agreement, and she flippantly replied, "It's early! Just a few more dances and we'll go."

"Robin, I need sleep! That meeting is huge for the company, and for us; I can't blow it by being sleep deprived! Old man Jameson is going to challenge me personally and question our ability to get the work done! I have to be on top of my game! It's not just our family's future - a lot of jobs depend on this!

"Please - you agreed to leave at midnight!"

She stood there, still holding her next partner's hand, with a resentful look on her face, and he could tell she was going to argue, or even say something vindictive that would degenerate into a screaming match.

It was embarrassing enough that everyone at the table was listening to them squabble, but if her reply was as nasty as he feared, she would leave him no choice. And she was just drunk enough to jump into bitch mode and start it.

And then her sister saved him, and her. "Archie, we'll get her home after the band quits at two. You know how much she loves to dance to this band, and how headstrong she gets after a few margaritas! You go get the rest you need so you can go get that contract and keep all of us employed!"

Robin's spiteful bitch face dissolved, replaced by a pleading look. She grabbed his arm and squeezed. "Please, honey! I'll get up and make breakfast before you leave!"

This was the best compromise possible under the circumstances, the circumstances being his need to rest versus her drunken desire to dance, tease, and flirt, but he didn't like it.

Their table had grown and grown over the course of the night, from the original three married couples to twelve people, only six of whom were married. The unmarried number included a notorious cock hound and his two brothers, and they had been monopolizing her conversation and dancing. In fact, it was Harry Cockhound's hand she was holding, and he didn't miss the smirk on his face.

Still, it was trusting Clarice to get her home or have a drunken row in front of God and everybody at the dance, so he nodded and said, "I'll expect you at 2:10, and not a minute later." As he turned to leave, he looked back at Clarice, caught her eye, and got a nod of acceptance.

A glance at the table showed the smirks on the faces of the other Roberts brothers, and a surge of anger made him pause and step toward them. He might or might not whip all three, but he would certainly wipe the sneers off their faces!

His brother-in-law read the situation, got up, and stepped in front of him. "Ignore those assholes. We'll get her home safely, and you can get your rest. Okay? Believe me, we all want you at your best in the morning!"

Arch took a deep breath, nodded, and walked away. He heard muted laughter and Jim's voice say, "Something funny? I'm pretty sure he could kick all three of your fat, out-of-shape asses by himself, but you fuck with that man you fuck with me and the rest of the decent men at this table, so shut the fuck up - before we fuck you up!"

When Harry and Robin were returning after their dance, Willie and Rob met him on the way and told him to come with them to the bar so they could buy a round for the table. He seated Robin and then joined them at the bar. "What the hell?" he asked angrily. "I've got that little slut hot and ready; why did you pull me over here?"

Red explained what had gone on at the table. They quickly made plans and then returned with the round. They were all 'good old boys' after that, doing nothing to upset the other men, and spreading their dances among the women. But each had something complimentary and sexy to say to Robin, and each danced her into the corner farther from the table before feeling her up. She didn't have the biggest boobs, but the rest of her was the best in town, and they planned to find out if fucked as good as she looked.

The key to that outcome was booze, and they made sure she had a full drink waiting when she returned to the table. Even then, and with all their effort, they would have failed save for Clairice getting a message from the babysitter that their youngest had fallen, cut his head, and needed to be taken to the ER.

They hurried to the truck and sped home, without giving any thought to their promise to Archie.

When he awoke in a cold sweat at 3:33, they were sitting in a hospital room after Little Jimmy had his head sewed up and was being watched for a concussion. Of course, Archie didn't know that and was mortally pissed at his sister and brother-in-law when he finally determined his wife was not home.

He was too wired and worried to go back to bed, so he paced. As four neared, he said 'fuck it,' put on a pot of coffee, and finished packing. The coffee was hot and strong, and it jarred him into a state of anger he hadn't felt in a very long time. They called him Berserker in high school for his legendary temper and refusal to back down when engaged with an enemy, be it on a sports field or court, a boxing match, or a street fight. Robin had calmed him over the years, but tonight Robin was the object of his anger, which she had never felt, and only observed once.

As the clock moved toward the five o'clock hour and dawn's first tendrils, he loaded his business car and began writing a note to his loving wife. He would save his ire for his sister until he was with her and she had explained, but he couldn't think of any reason for tonight turning out as it had,

When 5:00 became 5:30 and it grew light outside, he turned off all the lights, locked all the doors, and got in his car. He backed out just as a vehicle cresting the hill turned off its lights and slowed down as it approached the house. He turned in that direction and drove slowly toward the old pickup, which, even in the dim light preceding sunrise, he recognized as Harry's welding truck. Just before the vehicles met, the truck stopped, and he got a good look at the three occupants of the front seat.

Harry, the driver, looked worried; Robin, in the middle, looked horrified; and Red, on the far side, had a smirk that validated his suspicions. Harry held his hand out the window with his palm up, signaling him to stop. He continued rolling slowly but held his left hand out the window with his three bottom fingers curled, his index finger pointing, and his thumb raised. He pointed that finger at Harry and dropped the hammer on his 'pistol' and then did the same to Harry's two passengers.

When he was even with Harry's door, faces were clearly seen and he watched concern morph to fear. Then he was behind the truck so he couldn't see Robin, but he could hear her scream "NO! Archie, please!" He sped up and sped away, headed to San Antonio and a new destiny.

Harry coasted the half-block to Robin's house and pulled into the driveway. She stopped screaming and began crying hysterically. He tried to comfort her while Red boasted that he wasn't afraid of 'that pussy-whipped queer' and would kick his ass if he didn't like sharing his wife! Harry let him rave, and then asked, "Did he shake a fist at us, or point a pistol, dumbass? You enough of a badass to take a.45 slug between the eyes and still whip his ass? We're in deep shit - that is one crazy mutherfucker when he's pissed!"

"I'm not scared of that pussy! He's a tired, fucked down househusband who can't keep his wife satisfied! I'll beat him into a puddle of piss and then make him watch me fuck his pussy on his marital bed!"

"Wasn't that something the Armstrong boys declared a few years ago? Remember how that turned out? They were the ones lying in the piss and blood, and he was standing over them trying to kick their ribs in and their balls off when the deputies tazed him three times! And their offense was only grabbing his drunk wife's ass a few times while dancing and then making fun of him when he intervened!

"How do you think he's going to take this, Brother?"

Archie turned onto the interstate to SA and began considering his options and obstacles. His business wasn't a concern; his lawyers had constructed it in such a way that she would never get a dime of it. The salary he drew was enough to keep them living in a nice house driving nice cars, taking exotic vacations, and spoiling his wife with clothing, jewelry, and spas. He didn't ask much in return: respect and fidelity, as she had pledged in her vows.

It was his future that tempered the desire to kill the four adulterers, or file for divorce without concrete proof of her infidelity. There might be an innocent explanation, though he would bet his company that her coming home at dawn with those three pricks was anything but innocent. However, if he named the Roberts brothers without proof, it might cause two more divorces.

Not that he gave a damn right now, at 6:33 am driving 75 toward San Antonio and a meeting that could steeply increase the trajectory of his business, which was already the largest employer in the county. The thought of the ten am meeting with the snarling, combative 'Old Man' Marvin Jameson, recentered him. He began reviewing the critical parts of his presentation and the probing questions he expected to have thrown at him, and the miles hummed by.

****

"And those, Gentlemen, are reasons our company can best serve your current needs. But I'd like to add a couple more, starting with our ability to anticipate and prepare for your

future

needs. You may feel this is superfluous, but our research and development division is tops in the field. With you as our largest client, we will devote an appropriate share of our time and effort to you, and that includes identifying other areas into which you might expand. Your market share in your core businesses is already so high it will be hard to increase it year after year, but we feel there are other areas into which you can look in order to continue the remarkable growth of your company. Additionally..."

His audience had seemed receptive to his presentation, but now he was getting mixed signals. Had he gone too far afield? Marvin Jameson's face was as devoid of emotion as he expected; his sons looked receptive but some of his closest advisers didn't, and the old man had yet to speak up. When he finally did, he didn't ask questions; he banished Archie to the conference room down the hall and said they would bring him back after they considered his proposals.

It had already been the most stressful nine hours of his life, and the last ninety minutes was the capstone. He had never seen or heard of Marvin Jameson holding his thoughts or hiding his disregard for a presenter. In fact, he had skewered young Archie the first time he made a presentation to him, so summarily dismissing him like this had his heart rate in the triple digits.

The only ninety minutes of his life that felt longer had occurred after 3:33 this morning, and that had not ended well!

By the time Marvin, Jr. came to get him, he had lost all hope. He was normally an optimist, but maybe the combination of his wife's infidelity and Jameson's unexpected actions had trampled that, leaving the normally ebullient Archie on the verge of depression. But when summoned, he put his jacket back on, straightened his tie, and accompanied the silent Junior. They might hang him, they might use a firing squad, but he would not blink. This was his company, his presentation, and he owned his work!

Archie read a room as well as anyone, but all he saw were erect individuals, hands folded on the table, with blank faces; with great effort, he assumed a pleasant demeanor and took the seat to which Junior directed him. The owner/CEO was the first to move and to speak, "Young man, we've been keeping an eye on you and your businesses. The last time you were here, you were full of ambition and big dreams but I didn't believe you were ready to provide the services we needed. That has changed, and you have changed.

"Even back then, I wondered if I made a mistake, because you seemed quite capable of accomplishing your dreams, with sufficient maturity and experience. You aren't even thirty yet, but you've built a company you can be proud of, and as to the contract you have offered, our CFOs and attorneys will need to squabble about a few things, but we have an agreement! I know you are like me and my sons in that an agreement is as good as a contract, minus all the squabbling over legal terms and decimal points to the ten-thousandths.

"If you agree, we can all go enjoy a steak at my expense and allow you to return to your family to enjoy the rest of the afternoon."

"Yes, Sir, you have my agreement and my word, unless the legalese and decimal points all go against us."

The entire table chuckled. Jameson rose and approached a very relieved young man with his hand outstretched, and his sons were waiting for their opportunity to do the same. A dozen handshakes and a half-dozen clasped shoulders later, they went to eat at Jameson's favorite steakhouse, located in a nearby private club. The food and setting were everything they were reputed to be, and he actually enjoyed being hurrahed about Mr. Jameson making him sweat.

After goodbyes and before he climbed into his company car, he tossed his jacket and tie into the back seat and said a prayer of thanks that something had gone well today. He drove south, but at the first truck stop he carried his leather travel bag in, paid the minimal fee for access to the truckers' locker room, took a shower to erase the nervous sweat, and changed into boots, jeans, and a denim work shirt. About 12 miles north of home, he turned off the highway onto a Farm to Market Road and followed it to the dirt county road that went past his ranch.

The ranch had originally been purchased by his grandad, now deceased, but he had been forced to sell it during the last extreme drought. Archie bought it back from the absentee owner, who had grown bored with the whole 'I own a ranch in south Texas. Big whitetails, lots of dove and quail; want to go hunting?' thing.

His wealthy friends and their wives were also bored by the 'south Texas hunting' thing, and when Archie offered twice what he paid 14 years ago, he took it without checking current market value. Had he checked, he'd have learned it was now worth twice what he got. Not that he needed the money. He had paving contracts with Harris County that were more reliable and lucrative than a gold mine.

Archie put his toiletries and clothes away, changed into ranch wear, took one of his hunting rifles out of the safe, and walked out to the ranch truck. He had a phone in the little ranch house, but didn't want anyone to know where he was, so he stopped at a beer joint with a pay phone and made a call to his CFO and friend, Carl Schulze. After swearing him to secrecy, he gave him the good news about their newest client/customer and asked him to schedule a meeting of all administrative staff at 8 am Monday, and another with other employees at nine.

He bought three longnecks to go, put two in Koozies, and started drinking the other while driving east, down another FM road. A couple of road changes and twenty-two minutes later, he turned down a dead-end road that passed through the Roberts Ranch and ended at the Martin Ranch headquarters. Red Roberts was single and had a house near town, and Willie lived in town, but Harry lived in a double-wide manufactured home about thirty yards off the road. He and Willie were both married to girls raised only a few miles away, from a family with six extremely good-looking and well-built daughters. Most were country as hell, and thought shopping in San Antonio was equivalent to shopping in Paris, but Willie's was the exception. She had graduated from high school, joined the air force, and spent four years seeing the world. Japan, Germany, Italy, and an air base in the Virgin Islands.

That required doing special favors for the officer to whom she was assigned as a clerk, and sometimes to the one where she wanted to go, but she had seen the world without doing anything she hadn't already done with high school boys and other officers. Her transactional approach to sex led to her returning home four months pregnant due to birth control failure, and Willie was more than happy to take her and her spawn in, when daddy wouldn't. They were married just before the baby girl self-aborted.

After a period of mourning, Julie went to work for the county's largest insurance agency and assisted with tax returns during the season. It was good money, honestly earned, and challenging enough. Willie earned even more as a contract fabricator for Panther Creations, a subsidiary of the county's top employer, Panther Ventures, which was a subsidiary of Parr Industries; all were owned by Archie Parr.

Harry's wife was Julie's younger sister, Samantha. She was just as stacked and lovely as her sister, but naïve, country, and without the social graces Julie had learned living away from the brush country. Harry kept her on the ranch as much as possible so she would stay that way, and he bullshitted her that he was welding on distant pipelines while he was really out drinking, dancing, and chasing women who weren't nearly as attractive as his wife.