Still Waters
Rottweiler
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Cast
Chadwick Spencer Hartley — Husband
Molly Ann Ruston-Hartley — Wife
Bethany Jordan Hartley — Oldest child
William (Billy) Radcliff Hartley — Middle child
Bobby Joseph Hartley — Youngest child
Frank Discarsio — Widowed husband to Florence
Florence Ruston-Discarsio — Deceased younger sister to Molly
Otis (Oty) Strickland — Chad’s friend
Beulah Strickland — Otis’ wife
Mathew Skivers — CPA and Chad’s buddy
Paul Bradley — divorce attorney
Jennifer Bradley — Paul’s wife and partner
Jessica Bradley — Jen’s (twin) sister
Helen Dillard — Child counselor
Genevieve Guidry — Bobby’s Tutor
Chapter 1
Chad pulled into his driveway at 6:45 pm, wrapping up the long trip from the oil fields in just under seven hours. He could’ve made it sooner in his wife’s Rogue, but he was stuck with the old RAM 2500. Seven hours of boredom, broken by good music, monotonous commercial interjections, and bland PSAs: “Lottery officials remain baffled by the single remaining winning ticket that has gone unclaimed since last month’s record drawing.”
Yeah, if only, right? he thought.
As jobs went, it wasn’t bad. He’d been hired as a diesel mechanic and welder, but his skills and work ethic quickly made him a pipefitting supervisor. He had stayed five extra days this go-round for a nice bonus, so he would only have eight days to enjoy with the family before the long drive back.
There was still plenty of mid-July daylight when he pulled up to his home. He sat in the truck for a moment, absorbing the quiet. Why was it so quiet? Bobby should’ve been outside racing over to greet him, followed by Elvis, his loyal Rottweiler. He glanced at the overgrown lawn with disgust, knowing it was beneath his older two to take any initiative and mow it. Their mother couldn’t be bothered to ask them either.
Opening the truck door, he heard urgent barking from inside, so he pulled his tired body from the rig and grabbed his duffle before heading in. He didn’t bother to open the garage to see if Molly’s Nissan was there; his truck wouldn’t have fit beside it anyway.
The front door was locked, suggesting the rest of the family was out. Keying the bolt, he braced himself and pushed the door open. As expected, Elvis nearly knocked him over, eager to greet him. “Hey, Bud! Damn! Oof! Good to see you too, old boy!” He staggered into the entryway and set down his duffle to use both hands to hug, pet, and wrestle with the hyper animal. “Where’s everyone at, eh?” He looked around the great room for clues. Seeing none, he wandered into the kitchen and dining area. Grabbing a beer from the fridge, he popped it and drank half in three swallows.
Curiously, he wandered the main level and called upstairs without expecting an answer. It was odd that nobody was home, and no messages were flashing on the landline. On the way home, he turned on his cell and found that he’d had two messages the previous week. One was from Molly, reminding him of Billy’s 18th birthday this week, and Otis had called to ask him to visit the garage when he was back in town.
As he finished the beer, he saw no notes or indications of where they might have gone. He could’ve called her cell phone, but fatigue overrode his curiosity. He dumped his duffle in the laundry room, removed the small box, and kicked off his work boots before climbing the stairs to the master bedroom.
He found the bed neatly made and everything in order, which reassured him that everything would be sorted eventually. Wearily, he sat on the bed, removed his dirty t-shirt, and placed the small box on the nightstand before lying back for a brief siesta.
Chadwick Hartley, 37, was six months older than his wife of 18 years. An only child from an Iowa farm, he learned the value of hard work early on. High school felt like a reward from long days in the fields. By age 12, he was 6 feet tall and 200 pounds; by his senior year, he had added five inches and 45 pounds. He enjoyed wrestling and excelled at it, despite giving it little effort. His dad was a hard sell for the coaches and counselors who saw state titles and scholarships in his future, while the senior Hartley focused on farming and harvests. However, his mom often convinced his dad to let him compete. As a result, Chad made it to State three years in a row. Wrestling was popular in their Iowa town, and he was frequently praised.
He was 17 when he met Molly. She wasn’t the girl next door—her parents homeschooled her and her sister Florence, so she didn’t get out much. They met at the county fair while he was in line for the tractor pull with his best friend, Otis ‘Oty’ Strickland. Despite their light banter, he couldn’t stop gazing at the raven-haired beauty. She stood 5’9”, and from behind, he thought she was ravishing. Her hair was in a ponytail that swung between her shoulder blades, and a thin white tank top clung to her torso, not entirely covering her midriff before the tightest pair of Daisy Dukes took over. Her skin was olive-toned, and her legs seemed to go on forever, ending in adorable feet and flip-flops. He felt lightheaded from the fragrance of her perfume.
He grunted from a sharp jab to his left kidney, startling her. His eyes widened, and then he blinked back tears as Otis jabbed again. “Hey, Tree! Where your mind at boy? You still working on that combine?” Otis snickered and winked at the shy girl in front of them. “Or something else—” he laughed.
Her crystal blue eyes glanced back at them, switching between the two. She nervously turned back. Chad’s older sidekick smacked him again, “C’mon, Tree! Wake up! Say hi to the lady.”
Chad grunted irritably and shrugged off his buddy’s shoves. “You’ll be lucky to wake up if ya don’t knock it off, dude,” he growled. This prompted her to look back at his startled face. She smiled weakly before looking down at their feet.
“I’m sorry about him, Ma’am,” Otis grinned at her. His white teeth contrasted with his black skin, but his eyes glinted with raw humor. “Ya’ see? Tree here, he got the social graces of an ox, and with the fairer sex ... well, he’s a work in progress.” Caught up in his wit, he laughed and shook his head.
With a giggle, she glanced up at Chad’s stricken face.
When he looked down at her, he envisioned a mysterious gypsy fortune teller. His face flushed, and she looked away nervously. “Why do you call him Tree?” she asked his skinny black friend.
Otis cackled. “Hah! That’s one of old Chad-boy’s nicknames—look at him! On the wrestling team, Tree is known and feared across state lines. On the mat, they call him ‘Blackout’ ‘cause that’s the last thing most see.”
After an awkward pause, Otis jabbed his friend in the back, prompting another curse. “Tree! Say ‘Hi’ to the lady!” he urged.
“Um. Hi,” Chad stammered nervously, avoiding her eyes.
“Hi,” she mumbled back, equally nervous. She glanced at his face, studying his nervous expression, before looking away.
“This is Chad,” Otis introduced, placing a disproportionately large hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Chadwick Oliver Hartley,” he grinned mischievously, “And you, sweetness, must go by something other than Ms. Gypsy Goddess.”
She blushed at his remark. Chad glared at him like he was ready to defend her honor with bodily harm.
“Uh ... I’m Molly,” she stammered, “Molly Ruston.”
“Whew!!!” Otis wiped his forehead. “That was painful,” he skipped away from Chad’s swiping hand and shoved him forward in line. “Ms. Molly, meet Chad,” he grinned as his giant friend poised to swing at him. “Y’all hold my spot and save me a seat. I need a smoke,” he laughed and disappeared.
If his first impression suggested a demure and soft-spoken beauty who made his heart flutter with a touch, he quickly learned otherwise. Her beauty and effect on him grew, but her true personality soon emerged after she became comfortable with their budding relationship. To say she was a firecracker was to compare a light bulb to the sun.
Their attraction was immediate and intense. Her conservative parents weren’t keen on their daughter’s infatuation with a boy whose only prospects were farming and wrestling. The latter became less likely as Chad became more infatuated with her than with practice.
By graduation, he had decided neither farming nor wrestling appealed to him. He wanted a family with Molly and the means to support it. So, he turned to the only counselor he respected, the Navy Recruiter.
He awoke to Elvis jumping off the bed with a grumble. Chad glanced over sleepily to see his docked nubbin wagging excitedly. Then he heard and felt the soft rumble as the garage door activated. An excited woof dispelled any further sleep as the energized Rottweiler sprang out of the room and thundered down the stairs. By the time he sat up and rubbed his tired face with its three days of growth, he heard the thud as the front door burst open.
“Whoopee! Dad’s home!” he heard his youngest cry, followed by hurried stomping as he flew up the stairs, raced into the master bedroom, and launched himself into Chad’s arms. “Daddy!” Elvis burst into the room with another bark, then bolted back down the stairs.
“Thanks, Bobby! We’ll just go ahead and unload without you,” his sister Bethany grumbled from downstairs.
“How ya doin’, Sport?” Chad grinned as he tousled the 12-year-old’s light blonde—
nearly white hair. Jeez, he grows every time I see him! He wasn’t as robust as his siblings—he’d never grow that big—but he was getting taller fast.
“You said you got me something cool from the oil fields!” Bobby eagerly reminded him, “What is it? Can I have it?”
“In a bit, boy,” Chad laughed, “let’s go down and help out.” Bobby slid from his lap dejectedly as he rose. “Where’ve y’all been?”
“Uncle Frank’s ... as usual,” the boy moaned, looking at the floor and dragging his feet across the carpet.
Chad frowned as he donned a fresh T-shirt. He found little comfort in Molly, spending so much time with her late sister’s husband, but he dismissed it as he descended the steps and found his family carrying sacks, bags, and bundles into the house. William (17) and Bethany (18) set down their loads without acknowledging him and headed back out as Molly entered, holding her purse and a small rolling suitcase. She glared at them as they came into the main room.
“Robert Joseph! Would you PLEASE go outside and help your brother and sister unload the car?” she snapped.
“Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled and moped outside. Molly shook her head as she marched into the kitchen.
“Well, at least someone in the family is excited to see me,” Chad said as he followed her.
She paused at the island and turned back to him. “What the hell does that mean?”
His eyes widened in disbelief as he glared at her. ‘So, this was how it’s gonna be?’ he sighed, shrugging in defeat, “Hello? It’s your husband. I’m home, after nearly three weeks!” he retorted with disgust.
Molly blew a sharp breath through her pursed lips and collected herself. “I’m sorry, honey,” she began earnestly. “I’m just tired. It’s been a long day, and it’s not easy raising three children on your own most of the time.” Her expression shifted from sullen to defensive. She turned away and began putting groceries away, slamming items unnecessarily.
Chad stared at her back for several minutes before turning away, bewildered by her outburst and cold reception. Who lit the fuse on her tampon? He wandered into the main room and saw his three kids sorting their items. “How about you?” he asked the older two. “You have any love for your old man?”
Billy snorted, heading to his room with his arms loaded. “Whatever, Dad.”
Bethany wasn’t so cold as she kissed his cheek. “Hi, Daddy.” Then, she was on her way to her room.
With a heavy sigh, Chad joined Bobby and Elvis on the couch. He caught the boy’s faint smile as he raised both hands to express his bewilderment. He shook his head and put his arm around his son. “So, what did y’all do at your uncle’s?”
“The usual,” the boy shrugged. “Shopped, went to the water park, went to the movies, and ate out. It was pretty boring. Why were you gone so long?”
“They needed another pipefitter and paid me double time and a half. How long did you stay at Uncle’s?” he pushed.
“Since Friday night,” he said. Today is Wednesday! What the hell? “Will we go camping this weekend like you said?”
“Hell yeah!” he fist-bumped his son. “You excited?”
Bobby’s response was interrupted by his wife’s voice in the kitchen, “Chad, could you come in here for a minute, please?”
With a grimace, he stood up and stepped forward. Oh, joy!
Molly stood at the sink, staring at the floor when he entered. She glanced up as he approached and frowned. “About the camping trip. I know you’ve been talking about it and looking forward to it but with Billy’s birthday tomorrow and our long weekend...” She left it hanging, waiting for his usual surrender.
Fuck this! He clenched his teeth, trying to swallow the urge to snap. His face darkened, and his hands curled into fists the size of cantaloupes.
She blanched at his quiet reaction, “Baby, can we put it off until you return next weekend? I’m sure Billy and Bethany would be okay with—” she stammered.
“Okay with WHAT?” he snapped. His outburst was louder than intended, and Elvis leaped from the couch, growling. “What, exactly, are Billy and Beth NOT okay with right now?” he continued. His anger was getting the better of him, and he didn’t try to contain it. “It seems y’all decided against me without giving me a chance!”
Molly gasped at his outburst and stepped back uncertainly, “Baby, please—”
“What? I didn’t ask you to spend the week with your brother-in-law! I thought we agreed on this weeks ago?” He clenched his jaw, turned to the fridge, and grabbed another beer. He popped it open angrily and drank half of it in a gulp to settle his ire.
“I know,” she pleaded, “it’s just that you were gone for so long.” She raised her hand in a calming gesture. “I know ... I told you to take the overtime when you mentioned it. I wasn’t thinking how long it would be and how hard it gets without you.”
His silence encouraged her. “Frank has been having a rough time lately. You know it happened three years ago this week, right?”
And there it was—the Coup d’état. Checkmate. How do you compete with the dead sister? He finished his beer, crushed the can one-handed, and tossed it angrily into the garbage. With a snort of disgust, he turned away.
“Fine, I’ll take Bobby and Oty.”
The story of Florence Ruston-Discarsio was a tragedy that wrenched the hearts of everyone who watched the news three years ago. Death in childbirth due to her doctors’ mismanagement, who failed to recognize the crisis in time. If she had ruptured at home, it would have been equally tragic but less newsworthy. However, she had been admitted for observation on the orders of her obstetrician, and under his team’s care, she suddenly seized and went into cardiac arrest. At twenty-nine weeks, she was a candidate for an emergency C-section, but the procedure was delayed as they attempted to resuscitate her. The baby was lost in utero despite efforts to retrieve it from the dead mother.
Denying any malpractice, the hospital quickly declared she had suffered an adverse reaction to the medication used to suppress her contractions. This was partly true and verified by an external review. However, her adverse response was due to receiving ten times the ordered dose—not once, but twice. There was video footage of the RN retrieving and drawing up the nifedipine on both occasions. This was the nail in the coffin for the legal defense team, and a settlement was awarded to the late husband, Frank Discarsio.
The story made the prime-time nightly news for months and garnered the wrath of community leaders, politicians, and legal commentators—documentaries aired featuring young Florence—born of Romani immigrants and raised with her older sister, Molly. Married at twenty to a man fifteen years her senior, she led a quiet life until her first and only pregnancy eleven years later.
Chapter 2
HAZE GRAY AND HEARTACHE
“I feel ya, Tree,” Otis said sympathetically. He belched as he pulled another cigarette from the breast pocket of his worn coveralls. “I’m happy as hell to go with ya and the boy this weekend. Where we goin’ anyway? Out by the lake? Shur could use a couple of hours fishin’ on the shore, yessiree.” He paused long enough to light his cigarette, take a long drag, and exhale with a rush.
Chad sat beside his old friend and drank slowly from his beer can as he pondered his life. They sat out behind the garage that Otis had started nearly twenty years ago. Chad, a certified diesel mechanic, was always happy to lend a hand when his expertise was needed.
It was Thursday evening after Billy’s birthday party. Chad wanted to escape his bitter and dysfunctional family, so he went to Oty’s and spent the last hour baring his heart and soul to the other man. Despite their age difference, they were as close as brothers, with Otis being five years older. Chad looked younger than his 37 years, tall and robust, with the body of a wrestler and steelworker. Otis, however, looked decades older and walked with a stooped frame and barrel chest from years of tobacco use. His dark skin was wrinkled and sagged from his thin body, especially beneath his eyes and chin.
After a wracking cough, Oty hocked and spat a phlegm wad before pulling on his smoke again. “It really ain’t no never mind ta me see, but the missus and me has been watchin’ and wonderin’ about some goings on ova yonder at yer place lately,” he spat again and continued like he was discussing the weather. “Yessir, a trip to that lake sounds mighty fine to me. We bringin that young’un of yours too?”
Chad let his comments sink in as he nodded solemnly.
“Ya heard about that damn Lah-to-ree, Tree? They say three different folks won that cash! And so far, only two made claim to it.” He shook his head in wonder as he grabbed a beer, handed it to Chad, then grabbed another for himself. “How much ya think they all got when all’s settled with taxation and such?”
Chad grunted and popped his beer. “Dunno. How much was the pot?” He took a long drink.
“680 sum Mil-un dollah.”
Choking on his beer, foam shot out Chad’s nose, causing Otis to cackle.
“Holy shit!” Chad gasped as he recovered from his burning sinuses. Tears streamed from his eyes, and he laughed at his antics. “Goddamn, Oty! That’s... 225 million each. Minus what ... say 25%? That’s about 170 fuckin’ mill’!” He shook his head.
“Whowee!”
“What did you and Bea notice about my place, Oty?”
With a tired sigh, the skinny black man lowered his chair and fished out another cigarette. “Well, it just seems as soon as you head off to the fields to earn your keep, that Frank fella shows right up at yer door and makes himself at home.”
A cold chill settled over Chad’s shoulders as he digested his friends’ words. “Ya don’t say?” he muttered under his breath. Otis heard him and nodded.
“Yessir. If it ain’t him at yer door, it’s yer missus headin’ out for days at a time with the kiddos in tow. She’ll leave word with me or Bea ta come over and feed Elvis and let him out a few times a day.” He stubbed out the cigarette and finished his beer. “Ain’t mine ta say, boy, but sure smells ... if ya know what I mean.”
“Smells like what, Oty?” Part of his mind denied the innuendo as a coincidence. But he knew.
“Well, with ya gone all that time and Frankie-boy having all that money from his dead wife, God rest her soul.” Otis’ eyes suddenly opened wider, the whites showing a yellowish tint. He looked uncomfortable beside his friend. “Like I say, it ain’t mine ta say.” He swallowed nervously. “But it feels like yer woman be hangin’ with a new sugar daddy.”
As darkness fell, Chad lowered his chin to his chest and let the dreadful feelings wash over him. With a grunt, he rose from the chair and turned away from his friend. “I should get back home.”
Running off to join the Navy caused Chad and Molly’s parents grief. His dad pretty much disowned him for ‘abandoning the farm,’ and even though his mom supported him, she became sad and lonely. He and Molly had discussed their future, and she was excited about the steady income, housing (once they married), and free health care. But she cried as she saw him off on the bus to Great Lakes for boot camp.
Basic training aimed to break down and rebuild recruits into better, smarter, more disciplined sailors, ready to defend their country against tyranny and evil. Chad found it easy, compared to farm work and was amazed that some guys failed. He quickly learned to follow orders and adapt to the military mindset. In nine weeks, he breezed through boot camp, and with nothing to spend money on, he saved enough for Molly, her sister, and his mom to attend his graduation. Seconds after being dismissed to his first liberty, he caught a squealing black-haired beauty who struck every man’s eye.
After boot camp, he reported to Basic Engineering Common Core school for 14 weeks to train as a diesel engine mechanic. Halfway through, he got 12 days of Christmas liberty. He visited his hometown to collect his fiancé and headed to Vegas for their wedding. After graduation and earning his ECC rating, he was ordered to San Diego, where they moved into base housing, and he joined his first ship.
Eight months later, their first child, Bethany Jordan Hartley, was born at Balboa Naval Hospital. She had her mother’s raven hair and blue eyes, bringing joy to her parents. Three months later, with work-ups complete, Chad departed on his first deployment, initially set for six months but extended twice, keeping him away for nine months. During this time, Chad missed Christmas and the birth of their son, William Radcliff Hartley, born in July with the same hair and eyes as his sister. Despite the challenges, Chad was meritoriously promoted to E5 for outstanding performance during his first ‘WestPac.’ The money was good, and he enjoyed 30 full days of leave upon his return. Returning home to Iowa, family and friends welcomed his wife and children warmly. Chad felt overwhelmed and eager to return to the fleet.
Chad woke up on the couch early Friday morning with Elvis sprawled across his legs. He had slept in his old clothes, not bothering to go to the Master bedroom to change. Instead, he kicked off his boots and lay back on the sofa. God knows he had slept in worse places, like shipboard berthing. Nobody was awake yet, so he let Elvis out back while filling his dish with kibbles and starting a coffee pot. Quietly going upstairs, he retrieved some clean clothes and retreated to the main level to shower in the guest room.
He decided to keep to himself today and consider his situation. As the family began stirring, he headed to his truck, letting Elvis ride shotgun. He started it up and headed to the truck stop for breakfast. Ten minutes into the trip, his cell phone buzzed in the glove box. He ignored it and turned up the radio. Rolling down the windows drowned out interruptions but drew stares from motorists staring at the drooling Rottweiler.
“Lottery Commission officials still don’t know the third party standing to win over 225 million dollars. It’s uncertain why they haven’t come forward.”
Wouldn’t that be something? He mused. “Elvis, we need to start buying lottery tickets.” Elvis was more interested in the silver convertible beside them with the blonde lady at the wheel.
“Fine, I’ll grab a few at the truck stop after breakfast.” It was a popular place he visited whenever he left town for work. He frowned suddenly, remembering his last stop three weeks ago, on his way to the oil fields, where he topped off both tanks and went back for his change...
Sonuvabitch! His pulse raced. Instead of $14 in change, he had opted for 7 Mega Millions QuikPicks!
He reached up to his visor and slipped the printed ticket from above it. He blinked at the seven rows of numbers. There’s no way, he chuckled and placed the ticket back. He pulled into the truck stop and parked. He left Elvis inside with cracked windows but locked the truck for probably the first time since he owned it. He forced himself to have breakfast first. Stay on task here, buddy.
He took his time eating and enjoyed his coffee while considering his concerns and what he suspected and knew. Where did that leave him? Was his wife of 18 years cheating on him? If so, how could he prove it? If he could prove it, did it matter? Bethany and Billy were headed for college soon. Despite him being 11 months younger, they graduated at the same time and were going to Iowa State with Athletic scholarships. Bobby would be with them for 6 more years. This begged the same recurring question; what was with Bobby?
His two older siblings resembled their mother in looks and skin tone, while boasting their father’s physical traits. Both were fit and excelled at sports, but Robert Jordan Hartley was the exact opposite. He was born with thin, light hair that was considered white until it became slightly blonde. His body was slender, and his growth chart was stunted compared to his siblings. It was jokingly suggested that his father might’ve been the mailman. Chad considered it glumly for the first time, since Frank Discarsio was also slight of build and snowy-locked. His question about Molly’s infidelity answered itself.
But was that proof enough for anyone but him? Could he be certain? Not without a paternity test, he decided. DNA doesn’t lie. If it were true, then when was he conceived? He was born during Chad’s second enlistment, but Chad had been on extended deployment during the Gulf War. During that time, Molly moved back home with their two toddlers, relying on their grandparents. That put her close to Frank, but he was still married at the time, and Florence was alive. What the fuck?
So, what? He mused and sipped his coffee as he reconsidered. Even if Bobby wasn’t his, he was still the most loving family member! Did it matter to Chad if he wasn’t his biological father? Hell no!
How did Frank fit into this? Bobby still called him ‘Uncle’, but Chad was certain that both cheaters knew his parentage.
He finished his breakfast and signaled for a refill. So where are you at, Chad, old boy? He mused. Is your family in the shitter? Yes. Can you put it back together? Scratch that—do you WANT to put it back together? Now, that was the question.
What to do first? Prove her infidelity? Why? She’s being such a heartless bitch lately... Damn, when was the last time we had sex, much less made love? When did I last feel like I belonged in that house? Is her cheating important? Is it enough for divorce? How do I get divorced? If Bobby is Frank’s kid and she is cheating with Frank, do I get custody? Will I even get to see him?’
He shook his head, trying to clear his mind. The more he thought of her, the angrier he became. Fucking cheating bitch! How could she do this to him? What did he do to be treated so badly? And why did his two ‘real’ kids hate him so much? Slowly, he calmed his mind to consider his options. How would they divide everything? Does she get the house? Would he have to pay alimony? Or child support, even if his kid wasn’t ‘his’? What about his retirement?
They had a joint checking account for his checks. He had set aside all his bonuses and overtime into a private account, saving for the future. No way in hell he was giving her that! He’d spend it first.
He finished his coffee and sat holding the empty cup, staring off into space. Several thoughts came to mind.
I need a DNA test for Bobby, and I need to speak to a divorce attorney. Who was that guy in high school? Braden? Brad? Barker?’
I need to shore up the finances to protect myself.
If the divorce was the answer, Chad was damned sure going down fighting for every last penny, if only to keep it out of the greedy, cheating bitch’s hands.
Oh Fuck! he sat up straight, remembering the lottery. Oh, double Fuck! This would be the worst fucking time—
He rose on stony legs and paid his check, leaving a generous tip. His mind and heart racing, he walked from the restaurant into the truck stop Quick Mart lobby. He approached the lady behind the counter, recognizing her from his frequent stops. “Hey, Sandy,” he greeted her.
She looked up and smiled brightly. “Chad! How are ya, Hun?”
He glanced nervously at the Lottery counter. “Um. Good, I guess. Could be better,” he swallowed nervously. “Hey ... has anyone claimed that third part of last month’s jackpot?”
He was surprised when she jumped up and leaned over the counter excitedly. “No! But you wanna hear something they aren’t saying in the news?” she quivered excitedly.
“What is that?”
She looked fit to burst. “That unclaimed ticket was sold right here!” She stabbed the counter with her finger.
“Is that right?” he said quietly. Inside, he was nearly as pent up as she was. “Huh. That is something.” He placed his thumb under his chin as if deep in thought. “Can you print the winning numbers?”
She blinked and narrowed her eyes for a second, then nodded. “Sure. Just a sec.” She reached over to the lottery register and punched a few keys. He heard the printer buzzing, and she handed him a printout on the same white and red paper on which the tickets came. “Here ya go, hun. Good luck!”
He thanked her and returned to his truck, where Elvis was trying out the driver’s seat. He opened the cab door, letting the dog jump out to relieve himself, before climbing in and staring blankly at the wheel. With a snort, he glanced at the winning numbers in his hand. There’s just no way! He snorted again, grabbing the lottery ticket beneath the visor. Holding them next to each other, he began comparing them.
BAM! WOOF! He jumped in his seat with a curse and looked out the driver’s window to see his stupid dog staring at him with his mouth open in a dopey grin. “Goddamn it, Elvis!” he yelled. “Get down! Shit! You scared the crap out of me!” He opened the door and got out long enough for the mutt to jump in. Reclaiming his seat, he picked up both papers and held them side-by-side...
Triple Fuck!
Chapter 3
WINNING TICKET, LOSING MARRIAGE
Sitting in his truck at the ‘Stop’ allowed Chad to wrap his head around this new development. He held the third winning lottery ticket and stood to net over $150 million if it went according to plan. This called for bigger thinkers than him, so he quickly added his friend Matt Skivers to the list of people he had to contact. But first, he had to run back home and conduct discreet online research. With a sigh, he started the old diesel and headed back to the viper’s den.
Naturally, Molly was beside herself, pissed with his behavior. After ignoring her barrage of pointed and barbed queries for ten minutes, she stormed up to the master and left him in peace. Bobby went over to a friend’s house to show off the new present that Chad had given him after the birthday celebration, the tail from an enormous diamondback rattler that the guys in his crew found and killed. The snake was 6 feet long and as big as a grown man’s leg. The rattle measured a hand span in length, comparable to a rodeo buckle. Bobby was blown away. His mom and sister were disgusted, and Billy was too absorbed with his new phone to care either way. Early Friday, he assumed that Beth was at work and Billy was off hanging out with his pals somewhere.
Chad wandered back to the office and fired up the PC to begin his research. His wife failed to log off last time as her profile appeared on the home screen. Curious, he scanned her emails but found nothing incriminating; even the trash bin she never emptied. He was not surprised: she wasn’t that stupid. Logging her off, he began his research by going to the lottery commission website and reviewing all the terms and conditions of claiming the prize. He had until the middle of August to make his claim...
Next, he looked up divorce laws and noted several local attorneys whose ads popped up during his research. Paul Bradley was the name he remembered from high school. He was valedictorian of their senior class, and while they didn’t hang in the same crowds, he remembered the guy.
It was clear upfront that being in a no-fault state, he could expect to be cleaned out during the divorce. At the very least, he would have to provide alimony, child support, health insurance, and the mortgage payment. He felt his gut twisting and cramping. It just keeps getting better and better!
Before logging off, he searched paternity and DNA testing and found a bunch of mail-order options available to him. He quickly ordered two test kits and cleared his browsing history before logging off and shutting down the PC. He needed to leave the house to make his calls anyway, so he figured he would head over to Oty’s later and have another sit-down with his friend.
Elvis shifted at his feet and looked up, alerting Chad that he had an audience to his quiet musings. He looked up to see Molly staring at him intently from the office doorway. “Are we going to be able to have an adult conversation?” she asked bitterly.
Chad leaned back in the office chair and regarded her expression and body language. Despite it all, she still had it. At 37, she was striking, with perfect proportions. She filled her soft cotton blouse and tight LuLu Lemon yoga pants, broadcasting an exotic sexuality. She’d left her top open enough to display the perfect amount of cleavage to be distracting.
But as attractive as she appeared, he was aware of the danger. Beware still waters that run deep, he thought. “Molly, if you wanna talk, then talk. But if you’re going to stand there and keep slinging mud at me, making me out to be the bad guy—as always — then don’t expect me to sit here and take it.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk. “If you can try and keep a civil tongue in your head, I promise to try and do the same.”
She stared at her hands, looking deep in thought. Briefly, he saw emotion twist her features like she was trying to fight off a sense of guilt or uneasy foreboding. Finally, she looked up at him and gave one of her signature exhalations. “We can’t keep going on like this. You keep shutting us out. You’re working so much that we are like strangers growing apart—”
“Stop!” He raised his hand and cut her off. “Not another word pinning this all on me. Goddammit, woman!” He jabbed his finger through the air at her. “You are the one who wanted me to take this job! You were the one who said, ‘The more over-time, the better.’ And you are the one who never returns my calls or is even home when I return.” He slapped his hand onto the desk harder than intended, startling her and Elvis. “You are correct, though. We can’t keep going like this.” His tone was menacing and final.
She stared back at him, pondering his words. He’s changed, she thought. He never interrupted her and would go out of his way to avoid confrontation most of the time. Now he acted like a cornered animal, dangerous and unpredictable. “I just want to try and get us back where we were so long ago.” Tears sprung to her eyes. “What happened to the love we shared? The happiness? Are you going to keep sleeping on the couch?”
He snorted with contempt, surprising her. “You tell me where it went, Moll. It all seemed to go away while I was gone. You seemed fine when I was deployed for six months or longer. Now, 14 days away, I return home to an empty house and a wife who won’t even hug me in greeting, much less a kiss.” He glared at her, daring her to defend herself. “Tell me something, Honey,” his voice dripped with scorn, “where does Frank sleep when he stays over here?”
The color drained from her face as she stared back at him in shock. “What?” she cried shrilly, losing all composure. “What the hell, Chad! Frank again?” She stormed into the office and smacked both her hands down on the other side of the desk. He didn’t flinch at her tantrum. “Why is it always about Frank with you? What are you so jealous of? How is he even a threat to you and your ... fragile manhood?” Once again, on the attack, she felt more in her element.
“You didn’t answer my question!” he retorted.
“So what?” she shrieked. Elvis grumbled to his feet and left the office. “Yes! He stays here on occasion. And yes, we go to visit him as well. Why do you even care? He’s lonely!” Tears threatened to fall from her eyes again as she glared at him. “He lost his wife for fucks sake!” She stabbed her thumb into her chest. “Me! I lost my only baby sister! Is that so hard for you to deal with, you fucking asshole!”
Silence settled over them after her outburst, and Chad looked at her with a neutral gaze. The name-calling signaled the end of civility, so he slowly rose from the desk and stepped toward the doorway. She retreated uncertainly. “What? So that’s it? You’re just gonna run away again like a fucking pussy?”
She felt his rage boiling just beneath the surface as he passed her. Her angry façade crumbled as she found herself dreading his next action. He grabbed his coat and keys and headed for the front door. Elvis eagerly dropped off the couch and joined him. He paused at the door and turned slowly back towards her.
“You still didn’t answer my question,” he said quietly, “and that alone should answer yours.” He pulled the door open and stepped out. “I have tolerated a lot from you, but I will NEVER share my bed with another man!”
She jumped as the door slammed closed.
Mathew Skiver, CPA, was an old friend who had prepared the Hartley family taxes for the last decade and a half. He also helped Chad navigate the puzzling regulations and fine print of his 401K and Union pension, helping him invest his money logically and profitably. He wasn’t expecting the call from his friend but agreed to speak with him in-depth and in person as soon as he could get to the office.
After disconnecting, Chad dialed the first of the divorce attorneys he had researched earlier. “Thank you for calling the Law Offices of Bradley & Bradley. How may we help you today?” a pleasant female voice answered.
“Uh. Hi. I’m Chad Hartley, and I was wondering if I could arrange to talk with one of your divorce attorneys.” He felt suddenly defeated and fought the urge to hang up.
“Lucky you, Mr. Hartley,” the female laughed pleasantly, “I am Jennifer Bradley, and I am one half of the dynamic duo that makes up our team. My husband Paul and I work together.”
If he hadn’t known otherwise, he would have guessed by her voice that she was far too young to practice Law. “Wow! Two for the price of one, eh?”
Her giggle lightened his mood, and he found himself smiling. “Something like that,” she replied. “Would you like to set up an appointment to come in and talk?”
“Uh. Yes ma’am. Most certainly, and the sooner, the better.”
“That bad, huh?” she tsked sympathetically, “Well, we are normally closed on the weekends, but I don’t think Paul and I have any plans, so how about tomorrow morning at 10? It will be at our home rather than the Office.”
Damn. That meant no camping. Bobby would be disappointed. He wondered if Molly would throw that back in his face, too. “Yeah, sure. Text me your address, and I’ll be there. Do I have to bring anything?”
“Not for our first visit. If you have any paperwork handy, you can bring it, but we will go through the pre-separation packet and retainer fees when we meet up. Have a pleasant evening, Mr. Hartley. We will see you at 10 a.m. tomorrow.” She disconnected the call and promptly texted him their contact information.
Five minutes later, he pulled up to Matt’s office and climbed out of his truck. Elvis decided to invite himself into the lobby and was received well by the pleasant young receptionist. “Mr. Hartley, Mr. Skiver is expecting you. Please go on in.” She gestured toward the door to the inner office. Matt stood quickly and greeted his old friend warmly. He came around his desk and knelt before Elvis to scratch his ears. “Color me surprised, Chad,” he began, “we just finished your tax return, so I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”
“Well, things have sort of come up, and I need your advice,” he replied as the dog dropped heavily to the floor and panted. “And I need your complete discretion with what we are discussing.”
His accountant didn’t even blink before nodding his head. “Of course, but now you have me curious. What is going on?”
“I think I am about to pull the plug on my marriage, and I want to get my ducks in a row first. I’m meeting with an attorney tomorrow.”
Matt sat back down behind his desk and folded his hands solemnly. “I see,” he replied softly. “So, I guess we need to go over all your finances then and look into the division of assets?”
“I ain’t dividing shit!” Chad interrupted. “She has seen fit to kick me aside for that rich brother-in-law of hers, who’s sitting on a couple million bucks. She won’t be hurting for cash, and I ain’t feeling very generous.”
Matt stared back at him nervously. “I get how you feel, my friend, but that will be up to the courts to decide. Your lawyer will explain all that to you,” he spread his fingers. “There is not much I can do about court-ordered payments.” He removed his glasses and considered his next words. “I can help you protect some of your resources.”
Chad nodded encouragingly.
“You can’t get blood out of a turnip. Do you understand what I’m saying?” Matt glanced up suggestively.
Chad shook his head.
“Well, there are ways to tie up pensions and 401ks inside trusts and or limited liability corporations. They could even be made so that they are protected from court-ordered garnishment.” He noted Chad’s piqued interest. “And as far as wages go, well.”
Chad turned his head slightly. “Well, what?”
“I’m just saying if you had no wages...”
“You mean quit my job?” he asked with a frown. Was he that attached to the oil fields? Not really.
“Oh, heavens no! That would reek of intent and certainly earn you a contempt motion.” He looked back knowingly. “No, you would have to be terminated without eligibility for State Unemployment because they could garnish that even easier. You can get a better picture from your attorney.”
“So ... say I happen to come across a certain windfall...” he hesitated, and Matt raised his eyebrows curiously. “Say an inheritance from a far-off distant relative...”
Matt nodded. “That’s a tough one. The only way you could protect those assets would be if the probate ruling was delayed until the divorce was finalized. But that is a stretch and unlikely, knowing how drawn out the dissolution process can be.”
Chad frowned. Damn! He only had a month. “Hmmm...” he replied.
They talked for another 15 minutes and parted ways, with Matthew promising to review all his finances and look for avenues of protection for his assets. They shook hands, and Chad headed for Oty’s.
The Garage was closed, so he decided to park out front. He and Elvis could walk the short way to the Strickland residence. Before he could climb the steps and knock, Elvis beat him to it by standing on his hind legs and gazing expectantly through the decorative oval glass. WOOF! His nubbin wagged excitedly.
Beulah Strickland opened her door wide and smiled widely down at the pup and then up at Chad. Her hands clasped to her heart. “Well, me, oh my! Look who it is!” Beulah was probably the most beautiful African-American woman Chad had ever seen. Her soft, dark skin glowed, and her smooth face still bore the youthful charm that had stolen the hearts of every boy in their school. Her accent was part Southern drawl and part Creole. She danced forward and embraced Chad in a warm hug reserved only for the closest family.
Chad hugged her gently back but with no less affection. “Hi, Beautiful! I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed your smile lately.” She toyed with his new beard, smiling.
Pausing to stoop over and ruffle Elvis’ ears, she reached back and took his hand as she led him into her warm home. “Oty! Chad’s here!”
Looking haggard as usual, Otis entered the living room from the den and grinned at his buddy. “Yeh back to make ‘nother pass a ma woman, are ya?” he chortled. He stopped and suffered a coughing fit that left him wheezing. He turned back towards the den, waving his hand in a welcoming gesture. Recovering, he pointed to the sofa and recliners. “Have a seat. Waz on yer mind?”
Releasing Beulah’s hand, he approached a recliner across from Otis and sat wearily. Beulah sat delicately on the couch and smiled brightly when Elvis decided to join her. He gazed at her adoringly as she scratched his head and ears. “You’re such a sweet boy!” she crooned at him.
Chad sighed heavily and collected his thoughts. “I went by Matt’s just now and filled him in.” He wasn’t surprised that Otis’ wife looked up with understanding and sadness. They shared everything, so he knew she was up to speed. “I also contacted a divorce attorney on the way over. Or Attorneys, I guess,” he smirked, “They are a husband-and-wife team, and I’ll be meeting with them tomorrow morning. You remember Paul Bradley?”
“So, we ain’t camping?” Otis asked.
“‘Fraid not,” he leaned forward intently, “but that isn’t what I came to talk about.” He paused as he searched for words.
Beulah rose smoothly to her feet and turned towards the kitchen. “I’ll just go put on some coffee so you boys can talk.”
“No.” Chad started to rise and then sank back into the recliner when she turned back with a puzzled expression. “You need to ... I need you to hear this too,” he stammered. His tone caused the husband and wife to share a concerned look. He stared at the floor for several seconds and then looked back up, fixing each with a troubled gaze. “Oty, ya remember what we were talking about last night. About that unclaimed lottery ticket?” he hesitated again as Otis nodded his head.
Beulah froze and stared intently at Chad. “Yessir, that sure be sumpin’—” Bea’s eyes widened as her husband rambled while staring at the floor. He shook his head again and chuckled. “Ova two hundred mill,” his voice trailed off as he pondered it again.
Beulah gasped and clenched her hands tightly to her breast again as Chad rose suddenly and paced about the room nervously. “Yeah. Well, I won it,” he declared angrily, “and now I’m screwed seven ways to Sunday. Of all the rotten damn luck!” he muttered.
Beulah cried out, putting her hands to her face. Her husband sat up suddenly and stared at his friend with wide eyes. Chad looked back at them uncertainly.
“Say wha, boy?”
“Oh my God!”
They talked excitedly over each other as they stared back at him. WOOF! Elvis added, sensing the sudden excitement. Everyone started talking at once, and the playful Rottweiler decided he must be the reason. He rose and danced about the room, eager to play.
Beulah closed her eyes and raised her hands as she breathed deeply. The room went quiet. She walked over to Chad and placed her tiny hands on his chest. “Cheri,” she looked up deeply into his eyes. “ Take a seat and start over,” she pleaded. “This is too much for my frail heart, so keep it simple, okay?”
He nodded as he allowed his heavy frame to be pushed back into the recliner. He held out a hand to pat his expectant dog and sighed, “I could hardly believe it myself,” he began, “I was eating breakfast over at the truckstop early this morning and was mulling over everything, ya know?”
She knelt before him and nodded encouragingly.
“Well, I made some tough decisions and was just drinking my coffee when I remembered that I had bought those tickets three weeks ago as I was headed out to the fields.” He looked like he got caught stealing candy. “I fueled up and took the $14 in change as lotto tickets.” He started to stand again but hesitated as he glanced down at the wide-eyed woman kneeling before him. He looked at her helplessly and wrung his hands in his lap.
She stood slowly and then turned to sit on his lap, barely covering one tree trunk leg. She wrapped her arms around his head and pulled him to her breast. “Chadwick, are you telling us that you just won the MegaMillions jackpot?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled softly. “A third of it anyway.”
“And you’re all put out like someone run over your dog?” She glanced down at Elvis guiltily, and he stared back at her with his head tilted. ‘Sorry,’ she mouthed to him. “Why, baby? Why is this a bad thing to you instead of the righteous miracle it would be to everyone else?”
She felt his body tighten as he clenched his muscles. “Because there ain’t no way, no how, that I’m gonna share one fuc ... er ... single penny of it with that ... cheating whore!” he stammered. She rose, allowing him to get up and pace again. “This is the worst timing ever!”
Otis chuckled and winked at him. “Well, then, ah, guess the answer is quite easy then,” he stated, his voice deadpan but his eyes full of mirth.
They both stared back at him, Chad expectantly and Beulah with a frown. Neither offered him the opening he wanted, so he charged forward anyway. “All you gotta do is just give that thar winning ticket ta me!” he declared poking himself with his thumb and grinning. “I’ll just take it out of yer hands and carry that awful burden so you can ease your worries. What are friends for anyhow?” he laughed gleefully at his wit as he rubbed his hands together. “Yessir! I can think of a thing or two we could spend it on around, heh. Missus and me could get dressed up real nice and go eat with them, rich folks—” His laughter was infectious to Chad. Not so much his wife, who stood glaring severely at his antics with her hands firmly pressed to her hips.
“Otis Reginald!” she barked quickly, halting his merry little jig, if not his silly grin. “You are incorrigible, you are tactless, self-centered—” She waved her arm widely, causing Elvis to rise and try to match his head to her wandering hand. “Chad is your best friend! How could you even speak that?” Her angry tirade softened as she saw the thoughtful expression on the big man’s face. He was rubbing his stubbled chin and looking off into space. She whirled angrily back at her husband while pointing her finger at their guest. “See what you’ve done?” she cried.
Otis had the decency to look embarrassed and maybe a little contrite as he glanced up at his friend nervously. They were both shocked to see a grin light up Chad’s face. He suddenly reached over and gripped his friendly, diminutive shoulder with his huge paw and roared delightedly, “Oty! Yer a genius!”
Confused, they both blinked at him, and he grinned even bigger as he pulled Beulah into a loving hug, lifting her off her feet and swinging her about. “I love you both!” he declared and set the shocked woman down on unsteady feet. He started for the door and then turned back. “It’s perfect!” he laughed. “I gotta call Matt.” He hesitated again and grinned once more at his perplexed friends. “I need to set up a meeting,” he declared, “all of us. This weekend.” He reached for their door, and they heard him laugh merrily as he let himself and Elvis out. “This is gonna be great!”
“Bless his heart,” she muttered, shaking her head.
Chapter 4
TREEHOUSE CONFESSIONS
When Chad told him the camping trip was off, Bobby didn’t take it well. He was hardly reassured when his dad promised to make it up to him. Molly overheard and declared him a failure as a father for letting his youngest child down — after sabotaging the event herself. The irony wasn’t lost on Chad, “Just think of it as another reason for you to spite me in the eyes of my kids,” he retorted, heading for the back door, “C’mon Bobber. Let’s check out the fort.”
The ‘fort’ was an impressive structure that Chad and Bobby built over the last few years. It started as a simple deck around a sturdy oak tree. A 2x4 ladder accessed the boxy enclosed ‘guard house,’ revealing a winding step to another platform that split into two paths. One path led up a rope ladder to the round ‘crow’s nest,’ and the other to the ‘observation deck’ via a second ladder. Three observation decks, each higher than the previous one, circled the tree. The two engineers were drafting ideas for a 4th and final level called the ‘battle deck.’
Chad and his son sat cross-legged, facing each other in the guard house. He sensed his son’s disappointment and struggled to find an alternative to honor the boy. With a sigh, he surrendered. “What would you like to do this week? Just you and me?”
Bobby perked up and rubbed his chin, deep in thought. Chad saw he was trying to suggest something he already wanted. His poker face gave it away. “Well—” he started, “I really wanna go to that new skate park by the fairgrounds,” he declared in a rush. “It’s really cool, and they allow bikes, inline skates, and skateboards. And they have a huge half-pipe and a swervy tunnel thing! Mikey and John said it’s so awesome!” Then his face fell, “Mom and Uncle Frank won’t ever take me cause Beavis and Butthead never want to go.” His snarky reference to his older siblings made Chad snicker. “They always get to go shopping and do stuff they want.”
Chad held out his fist for a bump. “You got it, partner. Let’s stop by Sports Warehouse first for new pads and a helmet.” He looked into the distance, “I hear they have new hoverboards too!”
Bobby’s face lit up, and he stood so fast that he hit his head on a branch. Ignoring the pain, he whooped with excitement. “Yeah! I gotta call Mikey and tell him!” He burst, turning for the ladder. Chad caught him and held him back.