Other Men's Wives

by Freddie Lee Johnson III

  Dan looks hard into my eyes. I stare back, unblinking. He says, “Sierra?”

  I nod grimly.

  He shakes his head. “I'm sorry to hear that.”

  I nod again. The relative quiet of Dan's office is ripped apart by yelling and shouting out in the station.

  I turn quickly around and look out Dan's glass door. The desk officer at the front is trying to get in a word edgewise with an obviously irate Asian man, who's harassing him with a combination of words spoken in heavily accented English and his mother tongue.

  The Asian man's speaking so fast that his English is hard to grasp, but I still manage to hear bits of what he's saying: “Bums … cheap … Americans … junk … quit!”

  Dan jumps up from his chair and hurries out the door. “Denmark, hold on while I go put out this fire!”

  The Asian man sees Dan, marches past the officer he's haranguing, and heads straight for Dan. They're on a collision course, Dan the snorting bull charging toward the fearless terrier of a man who's rushing to meet him.

  “Jiao, what's the matter this time?” Dan asks, not bothering to hide his irritation.

  Jiao points straight up. “Antennas on roof are cheap! You want me to fix so you have perfect two-way talk. Get good stuff!”

  “I've told you before, Jiao. I'm on a tight … ”

  Jiao wheels around and heads for the door. “Call when you serious. Till then, I got plenty of work.”

  Dan throws up his arms in exasperation. “Okay! You win! Tell me what you need.”

  Jiao stops and turns slowly back to Dan, a big smile commanding his face. He pulls a folded sheet of paper from the left breast pocket of his shirt and hands it to Dan. “Buy stuff and I fix. Quality work guaranteed. Not like crooked Americans.”

  Dan scans the list and starts to protest, but Jiao's already out the door. Dan strolls back to the office, shaking his head.

  “Who was that?” I ask.

  Dan answers as he sits down. “That was Mr. Jiao Minh Xing, a.k.a. the Electronics Doctor.”

  I glance back at the exit, then focus onto Dan. “He's the one in those obnoxious TV commercials that ridicule American products and service.”

  “That's him,” Dan sighs. “Our communications system needed upgrading. I'm on a tight budget. Jiao offered a good price. And even though he's a giant boil on my butt, he really knows his stuff.”

  That's no small endorsement, coming from Dan, who spent eight years in the Navy troubleshooting all types of communications systems. The police scanner sitting on the table behind him crackles as an officer reports that she's on the way to the scene of an accident.

  “What did Sierra say in her complaint?” I ask.

  Dan looks at me admonishingly. “C'mon, Denmark, you know I can't tell you that.”

  I sit back and slouch deep into my chair. I'm very tired, very empty, and I ache all over.

  Dan crosses his arms over his chest and studies me. “Are you sure there's someone else?”

  I nod wearily. “I've seen them together, so to speak.”

  Dan waits for me to explain where, when, and how I found out. I let him keep waiting.

  “Here's a word of advice,” he says, after several long seconds. “Stay away from her.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Do yourself a favor and stay away from your, ah, wife,” Dan emphatically repeats. He sits up straight, plants his elbows on his desk, and clasps his hands. “The moment I found out what was going on, I checked to see if a restraining order had been issued against you. It has.” He leans forward. “So I repeat: stay away from her! The judge who issued the order almost lost his daughter last year to an abusive husband and …”

  “But I'm not like that. Just yesterday Sierra and I were …”

  “And you can rest assured,” Dan interrupts, “that the last person you want to challenge on this is Judge Mil-ford Barker.”

  I ball my fists and take a deep breath. There's a knock on Dan's door, and we look over. It's a cop, and standing behind him is Nelson Fox. He's dressed in a sharp gray pin-striped suit with matching shoes, a dazzling tie, gold cuff links, and a diamond Rolex watch that costs more than most cars. Nelson's not a good-looking guy, but like he once told me: “The honeys can have cute, or they can have diamonds. With me they get the owner of the diamond mine.”

  Dan waves them in. The cop says, “Chief, this is … ”

  Nelson strides past the cop over to Dan, extending his hand as he gets close. “I'm Attorney Nelson Fox.” He gestures to me. “I'm representing Mr. Wheeler and would like to secure his immediate release.”

  Dan smiles sardonically at Nelson's blustery performance. “Keep your shirt on, counselor. He's yours just as soon as we've finished here.”

  “Finished doing what? I've cleared everything through the court. And I'm aware of Judge Barker's restraining order and will advise my client accordingly.”

  “We still have to process him here,” Dan insists, clipping his words.

  “Has he been charged with a crime?”

  “No. But a complaint's been made, and, as you mentioned, a restraining order's been issued. I'm sure you can appreciate us following through to ensure that everything's in order.”

  “Indeed.”

  “So if you don't mind,” Dan says, gesturing to the cop at the door, “Officer Radcliff will assist you in filling out the necessary paperwork so that your client can be released.”

  Nelson nods, then looks at me and winks. He and Officer Radcliff leave, and Dan looks hard at me. “Denmark, it's an ugly business, knowing that your wife's been stepping out. It can drive a man crazy.” He narrows his eyes slightly. “But it's not worth rotting in a cell. No matter how bad it gets, she's not worth that!”

  He's right. I might as well save my energy going after Sierra, especially since I can clobber her in court. But Mr. X! He's a different story. No matter what it takes, it'll be worth the effort to find him. And when I do …

  I lower my eyes. “You're right, Dan. Don't worry. I've no desire to be one of your guests.”

  He smiles. “Good man.”

  We stand and shake hands. “Thanks a million,” I say. “I'm indebted to you.”

  “No problem.”

  I turn to leave, then stop and turn back to him. “By the way, do you have the number for that Electronics Doctor guy?”

  “Yes, but are you sure?” Dan asks in a puzzled tone. “He's a temperamental little cuss and …”

  “I thought you said he really knew his stuff.”

  “He's the best in his business, but…”

  “Then he's my man.”

  “Okay,” Dan says, shaking his head as he writes down the number. “If you don't mind him busting your balls, then go for it.” He hands me the note. “But you must have one doozey of a problem.”

  I fold the paper and slip it into my pocket. “It's a blurry and garbled video,” I say. “One I'm hoping the Electronics Doctor will help me clarify.”

  EIGHTEEN

  Nelson and I step outside the police station, and he looks me over. “You look pretty banged up,” he says.

  “I feel banged up.”

  We share a brief chuckle and start across the parking lot to his dark blue, window-tinted, chrome-wheeled Lincoln Navigator SUV.

  “I called your job,” Nelson informs me. “I told them you had an emergency.”

  I nod. “Thanks.”

  Nelson slows his pace and studies me, his eyes filled with concern. “Seriously, Denmark, are you all right?”

  “I'll be better once I'm home, showered, and rested.”

  We get into the SUV and hit the road. Nelson slips a Maxwell disk into the CD player and adjusts the sound to a nice level.

  “Okay,” he says. “You want to talk about it?”

  “No.”

  “I'm not your friend right now, Denmark. As the legal representative who just arranged your release I need to know what's been happening.”

  I hesitate. It's hard enough adm
itting to myself that my house is in disarray, and even harder admitting it to another man. But the chaos battering my life is getting worse, so I take a deep breath and tell Nelson everything.

  “Is that all?” he asks.

  “Isn't that enough?”

  He ponders for a moment, slowly shaking his head. “Whoever sent you that disk was cold-blooded. What are you going to do now?”

  My blood surges. “I'm going to divorce Sierra. Find the wise guy at ‘I Got Your Back, Inc.’ And then … ”

  “And then … what?”

  I ball my fists. “Find the bastard in the blur.”

  Nelson whips over and into a Bulky Burger fast food drive-thru line. “What do you want?” he asks, pulling up to the meal selections display.

  “I'm not hungry.”

  He orders two Busting Bulky Burgers, two large fries, and two large cherry Cokes, then hands me one of the orders.

  “Nelson, I told you that…”

  “These cholesterol bombs are bad enough when they're hot,” he interrupts. “Don't let yours get cold.”

  I sit back in resignation as he pulls into a parking space and cuts off the Navigator. He leaves Maxwell playing and gets down to chomping. I bite into my burger, and it's the best thing I've ever tasted. Two minutes later, it and the fries are gone.

  “I guess you were hungry after all,” Nelson observes.

  “Thanks, man. Rage and near-incarceration are powerful appetite enhancers.”

  Nelson arches an eyebrow. “Let's talk about rage.”

  I sip my soda and look at him warily. “Where's this conversation going, Nelson?”

  He wipes his mouth with a napkin and gives me a long, penetrating look. “It's not about this conversation but you.”

  “Stop stalling and say what's on your mind.”

  He cuts off Maxwell and launches in. “Don't be a sucker.”

  I laugh bitterly. “It's too late for that.”

  “I'm not talking about your wife's cheating on you. Don't be a sucker by helping whoever's trying to set you up.”

  “Set me up? How do you figure?”

  Nelson studies me for a moment. “Think about it, man. Do you think it's an accident that somebody sent you a video of your wife Godzilla-banging some blurry-headed dude?”

  “No. They obviously wanted me to find out.”

  “That's true word. But the question is: why?”

  “You tell me!” I answer loudly. “I surely don't know!”

  Nelson's unfazed by my outburst. “That's exactly right,” he confirms. “You're completely in the dark about their motivation, except for one thing.”

  “What?”

  “They wanted to hurt you, Denmark. And they wanted to do it in the worst possible way.”

  I mutter expletives.

  “And,” Nelson continues, “them giving their address as ‘I Got Your Back, Inc.,’ means they wanted to ensure that the crap rubbed into your nose was shoved deep.”

  “When I find out who it is, I'm going to pulverize the mother …”

  “See! That's what I mean. Now you're talking like a sucker.” Still cool and deliberate, Nelson runs it down. “Look, man, criminal law's my thing, so I've seen enough scams to smell something here. Somebody's out to get even by making you hurt yourself!”

  “What! That's the most stupid …”

  “Is it?” Nelson challenges. “Think about it, Denmark. Are you certain that somebody you jacked years ago isn't finally making their move? Are you sure that some employee you fired on the way to management super-stardom hasn't chosen this moment to bring you down hard?”

  I want to dismiss Nelson's suspicion, but I have to consider it. A cold, clammy awareness creeps into me. I can't count the number of people back in the Brownfield District that I scammed, jammed, hustled, and pounded. And I've sent more than my share of misfit, airhead, thieving, lazy jerk employees rolling to the curb. Nelson might have a point, except for one thing.

  “Even if you're right,” I say, “it doesn't diminish the fact that it was Sierra in that video!”

  “I agree. Sierra's dirty, but the dude behind the blur could be the one who's using her to cut your emotional throat. Maybe snaking her pipes wasn't good enough …”

  “Will you stop with the metaphors?”

  Nelson smiles sheepishly. “Sorry, man. I'm just saying that they wanted to make sure you knew. That's why he special-delivered proof of Sierra's infidelity through the mail. But what if lover boy's not behind it? What if the person who shot the video isn't the dude?”

  “Nelson, stop riddling and make it plain.”

  “Just work with me on this,” he insists. “What if the guy in the video was just some clown starring in a movie he didn't know was being shot?”

  “What! Are you suggesting that he might not have known about the DVD?”

  Nelson nods emphatically. “He could just be some rotten bum who was as ignorant as you were.”

  “No one could be that ignorant,” I grumble.

  Nelson purses his lips, nods understandingly, and continues. “Denmark, lover boy surely deserves some payback for boning your wife, but what if the person who sent the video was a third party? What if they somehow learned of Sierra's mischief and decided that the best way to slap you down was to film her and make sure you knew?”

  I roll my eyes. “This is the most ridiculous … ”

  “What if the dude in the video was also in on the planning, someone who'd been paid to get with Sierra so she could be filmed as part of the effort to destroy you?”

  “It doesn't matter!” I retort loudly. “Whether he participated willingly or not, paid or free, it doesn't change the fact that my wife was there with him!”

  “I agree!” Nelson replies just as loud. “And I'm sorry if this is pissing you off. But man, you've got to consider that your almost going to the slam might've been exactly what somebody wanted.”

  “Nelson, nobody would be crazy enough to go through all this …”

  “What about your brother-in-law? Based on what you've told me, he'd be partying in the streets if you ever got locked up.”

  Amos definitely wants to see me put away. But although he's scum and profoundly dislikes me, even he wouldn't have exploited his beloved sister like this. Or would he? Is getting me out of the family important enough for him, or them, to stoop to this level? A heartrending thought forms in my head: Would Sierra really be part of such a scheme? No! She knows I'd react just as I did and would never put herself in that kind of danger. If anything, hers would be the blurry head and upper torso, and not the guy she was with.

  “And then there's another angle,” Nelson suggests. I groan. He ignores me and continues. “What if everything I've said is wrong? What if the person behind all this is some chick you once laid who's now out for a little revenge?”

  “Are you serious?” I chuckle. Vondie Hamilton crosses my mind, and my chuckle gets weak and hollow. “Are you suggesting that some babe from back in the day has been bird-dogging me all this time to get a little payback?”

  Nelson's gaze drills into me. “What if she really liked you, but to you she was just some booty? Maybe she's spent years, waiting until you were deep in love before lowering the boom? She obviously knew that seeing your wife with another man would push you over the edge, so she shot the video and made sure you got it.”

  Nelson, unfortunately, once again has a point. Before Sierra, the honeys entering my world were always on temporary visas. When they started acting like they were permanent residents, they were deported faster than an eye-blink. Sometimes there was crying and drama, other times just a pout and sniffle. Either way, they were gone!

  I always had a pair and a spare, and they knew two things for certain: one, I wasn't a one-woman man; and two, the moment they acted up, they were fired! I was out for a good time; desired the sweet look, smell, feel, and company of a woman; enjoyed pampering and spoiling them; and guaranteed that if they acted right, I'd sex them in a way that wou
ld have them clawing for the moon and calling my name in ancient Egyptian.

  I think for a few more seconds, then look at Nelson. “You need to give the wild conspiracy theories a rest.”

  Nelson snorts, arches an eyebrow, and smirks condescendingly. “So they're just wild conspiracy theories, huh? Okay. Why didn't this person who's so interested in the truth expose the joker who's been getting with your wife?”

  I look at Nelson and glare. He keeps his eyes locked with mine. “After all,” he continues, “a person committed to the full truth would also tell you that part.” Nelson lets that statement linger and adds, “Why should they care about you knowing the full extent of such a painful truth?” He leans toward me. “Why would anybody go through all this trouble to reveal a truth that's guaranteed to hurt? A friend would tell all. Somebody with something to hide, or an agenda, would tell just enough to leave a gaping wound.”

  I take a deep breath and force a chuckle. “Nelson, do you know how stupidly incredible this all sounds?”

  “It's probably as stupidly incredible as watching your wife suck another man's …”

  My eyes snap onto Nelson, and he stops. His outline is fiery red. My voice is low, even, and taut when I speak. “Be careful, Nelson.”

  He gulps. “Look, man, I didn't mean any disrespect. I'm just trying to … ”

  “Take me home.”

  “Not until I'm finished,” Nelson courageously deflects. He swallows and forges ahead. “Denmark, somebody, somewhere, and for some reason, sent you that disk knowing it would set you off, and it did! You should thank Sierra for escaping. If she hadn't, you'd be dealing with something uglier than a restraining order.”

  Nelson's right. I came close—too close—to being the instrument of my own destruction.

  “So, as your attorney,” Nelson continues, “I'm strongly advising you to not be a sucker. I'm sorry Sierra cheated, but you don't need to go to jail for it.”

  He starts the Navigator, backs out of the parking space, and gets back on the road.

  “So are you telling me that I'm just supposed to roll over and play dead?” I ask.

  Nelson's eyes flash angrily. “I'm telling you to stay free!” He turns into Diamond Ridge Estates and cruises slowly through the neighborhood. “Sierra's proved that she's no good, Denmark,” he says softly. “You loved her hard, but it was like loving a rattlesnake. At the end of the day, she was still dangerous and crawling on her belly!”