My husband came home from work early looking distraught.
"What's wrong babe? What are you doing home so early?" I asked.
"Somebody stole a truck from the shop." He said.
"I know who did it but that guy is my super and he is trying to blame it all on me. He called me into his office today and told me he had a proposal for me. Either I told you to come down to the shop tonight around 9 to see if you two could work out some sort of deal, or he calls the cops and tells them I stole the truck."
I was taken aback. I had met my husbands supervisor several times at picnics and BBQs. He was an attractive man of about 30. He was about 5'10" and thought he wasn't fat by any means he was stout and beneath his t-shirt you knew he was muscular. He was tanned from all of his days in the field and had the same worn hands as my husband. Kent and I got along alright. We enjoyed talking about sports and he appreciated my love of UFC and football. I never thought anything of our conversations. Figured it was all just small talk. Me making nice with the boss to help my husband out. I had no idea.
"What do you mean he wants me to come by to work out a deal?" I asked as the wheels began to turn. My husband hung his head.
"I don't know. I am hoping he is a reasonable guy and just wants to get your side of the story." He sounded like he believed that about as much as I did.
"What are we going to do?" I asked.
"I can't ask you to go down there for me. I don't care what happens to me, you are NOT going down there!" He returned.
"Is it really worth going to jail." I wanted to cry but I had to be strong for him.
"I'm sure he just wants to talk." I reassured him.
"You're not going." He answered firmly. Always the kind of guy to stand up for my honor. Why is it the nice guys are always the ones who get screwed? Or their wives...
"Okay." I agreed.
"I'll go in tomorrow and just trust the attourney and courts to work this out." He said.
That night when I made his dinner I slipped two of my Ambien in his drink. By 8 he was out cold. I didn't care what happened, I wasn't about to let my husband go to jail. I knew how the justice system worked and didn't trust it. Besides even if he was innocent he would lose his job and no one would ever hire him again. I threw on my nice jeans and a flannel shirt. Kent knew what kind of gal I was and I didn't want to make the wrong impression showing up looking like a slut. I got to the shop five minutes after 9. Sat in the car thinking for a good ten minutes outside the shop. I went in to Kent's office and he was waiting for me. He sat behind his desk, feet up, hands behind his head.
"I knew he cared more about his job than he does you. He doesn't deserve you." Kent said.
"Actually, he doesn't know I'm here." I snapped.
"So what is this all about?"
"Well, here's the deal, your husband stole a pickup from the shop and I told him that either he sent you down here or I report him to the police tomorrow."
"You and I both know that isn't true." I replied. Kent smiled a smug smile.
"I saw him take it myself. It's his word against mine and I have been with the company a lot longer. Don't you guys have a bunch of debt that your trying to get out of?"
"This is bullshit." I said.
"Uh uh uh..." Kent said as he waved his finger back and forth. "I don't find that kind of language attractive on women."
"I don't give a crap what you find attractive." I spat.
"You might not have before, but you will now. This is how it is going to work," Kent stood up and started to walk over to me.
"you are going to come to my office once a week for the next 2 months. You will do whatever you are told, no if's ands or butts." He drew closer, examining mine.