Tainted Love

Chapter 1

The big graphics plotter wound down to a hum and the print arm parked itself with a solid thump. I snatched the thirty-six by twenty-four inch drawing off the print bed. I slipped the lower right corner of the drawing in between the stainless steel jaws of my professional seal and squeezed the grips tight, embossing the pages with my name and my state license number: Joshua T. Fuller, ME, License number: CGA1050505.

I was proud as hell of that drawing, because the floating spiral staircase it depicted was the most challenging piece of engineering I’d encountered in the three years since college. The staircase was to be the center piece of an eight thousand square foot model home for a custom housing development. If the developer approved my design, my fledgling construction company would build the model. If I brought the model in on time and on budget, we would become the developer’s preferred builder. We would build any houses he constructed on speculation, and he would recommend us to interested home buyers. It was the break we needed to really take off, and my team was ready for the challenge.

I walked out of the room that housed our network server, plotter and printers, and into the foyer of our small office suite. My office manager, Mitzi Morrison, gave me a grin.

“Hey, Boss, I was about to call you. It’s four-fifty-five, time for you to make like a sheep herder and get the flock out of here.”

I chuckled when she called me Boss more than at her bad pun. Yes, I owned the company, and at the job site I was in charge; but Mitzi ran the show around the office. Mitzi was organized, efficient, and she didn’t take any shit from anyone, me included. She was also loyal to the extreme; I knew everything she did, whether I liked it or not, was in my best interest. Taking a chance on hiring the middle-aged divorced mother of three was one of the smartest things I’d ever done.

“If you’ll put this drawing with the Davenport project, I’m out of here,” I said breezily.

I was in a rush to leave because it was my anniversary, and I had big plans for my adorable wife.

Before Mitzi could reply with her usual smart-assed remark, the heavily tinted front glass door swung inward and a man wearing a neatly pressed light-weight suit walked in from the bright sunlight. The man came straight up to me and spoke before I could introduce myself.

‘Are you Joshua Fuller?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Call me Josh. Now how can I help you?” I replied as I stuck out my hand to shake his.

He didn’t shake my hand. Instead, he slapped a manila envelope into my palm.

“Mister Fuller, you have been served,” he intoned sonorously.

He tapped the manila envelope and continued.

“This is a petition for the dissolution of the marriage between you and Lindsey Clark Fuller.”

He placed two smaller business-sized envelopes in my paw.

“This envelope contains an order of protection enjoining you from contacting or approaching within three hundred feet of said Lindsey Fuller. And finally, this is a note from Missus Fuller and the key to unit seventeen at the U-Store-It on Tenth Street. All your personal effects are already there, except for a duffle bag of items Missus Fuller thought you might need immediately. That bag is in the back of your truck.”

With that he spun around and departed, leaving me devastated in his wake. I looked down at the envelopes in my hand, and the significance of them hit me like a ton of bricks. A wave of vertigo swept over me, and I dropped heavily into the chair by Mitzi’s desk. The next thing I remember is Mitzi pressing a pill into my hand and handing me a cup of water.

“Here, take this,” she ordered.

I took the tablet from her and gave her a questioning look.

“Xanax,” she answered my unasked question.

I nodded and popped the pill, chasing it with a slug of water. Then with shaking hands, I opened the envelope with the note from Lindsey and started reading. The note was short and to the point.

Joshua, I know this comes as a shock to you, but after considerable thought, I concluded that this was the best way to handle things: a clean break with no histrionics.First off, I want you to know that I am not doing this out of malice and that I bear you no ill will. It is just time for me to move on. I have hopes and dreams that, sadly, don’t include you. But then, you’ve always known that my feelings for you weren’t as strong as yours for me. I hope you love me enough to let me go.Be well, Joshua, you are a good man.Fondly, Lindsey

I read the note twice, disbelieving my eyes the first time I read it. After the second pass, I handed the flimsy sheet of paper to Mitzi and watched her reaction as she scanned it. When she finished, her eyes lasered in on mine.

“You had no idea this was coming?” she asked incredulously.

I shook my head dumbly.

“Not … a … clue,” I answered.

It was her turn to shake her head as she handed the note back to me.

“Springing this on you on your anniversary is possibly the most coldhearted thing I’ve ever heard of,” she said angrily.

I nodded. On that we were in complete agreement.

As soon as she said that, Mitzi stood up from her desk, fished her car keys out of her purse and grabbed my arm.

“Come on, you are staying at my place tonight. I’m not about to leave you alone,” she ordered.

I did not argue with her, because I knew the alternative was sitting at a bar getting shit-faced and feeling sorry for myself … or worse. I did protest when Mitzi insisted on me riding with her, but in the end I grabbed the duffle bag the process server had put into the bed of my truck and got in her three year old Toyota Camry. Mitzi was quiet on the ride to her house, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Those thoughts went way back to when this all started.

---

I was an unmotivated and mediocre high school student, preferring to party and chase girls instead of studying. So when I graduated high school, my father showed me some tough love and refused to pay my way through college. Instead, he made me an appointment with an Army recruiter. My mother went along with the old man, so with nothing else to do, I enlisted for three years. In a fit of adolescent stupidity that more than proved my father was right about my lack of maturity, I enlisted to become an airborne-ranger, and volunteered for assignment to the 75^th Ranger Regiment. Proving that my father was right once again, signing up was the smartest thing I’d ever done.

It took two tries and six months of the Ranger School cadre kicking my ass, but I finally put my ducks in a row and graduated, and was awarded the coveted Ranger Tab.

Sometime during my second year assigned as a grunt in a line battalion, I suddenly decided what I wanted to do with my life. I would serve out my enlistment and go to college on the GI bill.

It was a good plan and I was within a couple of months of executing it, when a bunch of fanatical terrorists decided to fly fuel-laden jets into the World Trade Center and Pentagon. My battalion was immediately alerted for deployment to Afghanistan, and I hurriedly reenlisted to go with them. I ended up pulling two tours humping a rucksack through the arid mountains before my second enlistment ended. This time I had nothing to prove, so I separated from the service and started college at the state university campus in my home town.

I had completed a year of college courses thru the Army Education Center, so I started my college career as a twenty-five-year-old sophomore. I had saved my re-up bonus and much of my pay; so - with the GI bill - I was fine, money-wise. I had the money to live in the dorm, but I had so little in common with the typical student there, the idea did not appeal to me. My parents solved my housing problem by offering me the same deal they had given my younger sister. I could move into the basement my dad had converted into a guest apartment and live rent free, as long as I obeyed the house rules and kept my grades up.

The apartment was a great deal. It was about five hundred square feet, with a bedroom, living room, kitchenette and full bath. It even had a separate entrance from the outside that led to an extension of the driveway where I could park the small used pickup truck I’d just purchased. Best of all, the room came with an open invitation to supper every night, and my mom was the best cook in the county.

I guess here is a good place to insert a paragraph or two about our close-knit family. There are four of us Fullers, my mom and dad (Sandra and Jack), me, and my sister, Shelby Jane. Shelby is fourteen months younger than me. My father manages a drug store and my mom works from home as a commercial illustrator.

My mom and dad grew up as hippies in the 1960s, and still have some fairly unconventional ideas. My folks are also still crazy in love after over twenty-five years together, and make no bones about how hot they still are for each other. When I was a teenager, they use to embarrass the hell out of me with their open sexuality. They never hid the fact that they frequently engaged in hot monkey sex at the drop of a hint from one or the other.

My sister Shelby is a software designer for a company that makes simulator training programs for the military. She is engaged to and lives with another computer geek named Archer Paulson. Archie administers the computer systems for a large hospital. Shelby and I have always been best of friends as well as siblings. We were each other’s confidants and advisors on the opposite sex. Shelby and mom are both five-six, well padded, blue-eyed blonds. My father and I were both slightly above average in height and solidly built with light brown hair. The old man’s eyes are light blue and mine are some kind of weird blue-gray.

So anyway, I moved into the basement apartment and started college. I fell into mechanical engineering as a major, on the advice of my faculty advisor, because I couldn’t stand the idea of a full time indoor job. I dated some during my first year of college, but mostly I concentrated on my studies. Unlike my less than stellar high school career, I was now totally focused and highly motivated toward my school work.

I also had a ‘friends with benefits’ casual hook up with Shelby’s best friend from high school, Regina Arnold. Regina was some sort of human resources person at the hospital where Archie Paulson worked. Regina was a sassy five foot - nine inch, robustly built, redhead with a hyped up sex drive. She felt safe using me to dull the edges of her constant horniness while she looked for Mister Right. Mister Right for Regina would have to be a cross between a porn actor and the Energizer Bunny.

At the end of my first year of college, I interned for the summer with a medium-sized engineering company that specialized in high rise buildings. I lucked out in drawing that position, because ‘Weaver & Wilson Engineering Services’ had an excellent reputation in the industry. Gilbert Weaver was the engineering genius behind the company, and his partner John Wilson ably handled the business side. My main job at Weaver-Wilson was as Gil Weaver’s aide de camp. I went everywhere he did, taking notes and running errands. The great thing about Gil was that he explained everything and then quizzed me at the end of each day about what I had seen and learned that day.

I met Lindsey Clark the first day of the second semester of my junior year in college when we ended up in the same Effective Writing course. Lindsey had medium long auburn hair and deep green eyes. She was about five-six and slender but curvy. Lindsey was pretty, but did nothing to draw attention to the fact. She dressed conservatively, wore her hair in a ponytail and didn’t wear make up. Lindsey was very smart and as serious about her studies as I was. Lindsey was attending school on a full ride academic scholarship. Her major was criminal justice/pre-law.

I asked Lindsey out during the second week of class and we dated off and on for the rest of the semester. I wanted us to date a lot more, but Lindsey refused to go out with me more than once a week. She said she liked me and enjoyed being with me, but her ambitions for the future took first priority. I would discover that Lindsey’s ambitions always took priority. For the next nine months, Lindsey and I had about the same relationship that I had with Regina Arnold. Lindsey claimed she didn’t have time for a real relationship with me. She even insisted I date other women and continue seeing Regina.

Somewhere along the way, I fell in love with Lindsey. I was twenty-six years old and it was the first time I’d ever been in love. When I fell, I fell hard.

My persistence and patience with Lindsey paid off at the start of the second semester of our senior year. By then, she had the results of her LSAT (Legal School Admission Test). Her scores were good enough to earn her a seat in the university’s law school the following September, and she finally became open to a future together for us. In March of that year, Gil Weaver offered me a job as a site engineer with an excellent starting salary. That same night I broke out the diamond ring I’d bought at Zale’s and proposed to Lindsey. I was the happiest guy on the planet when she accepted.

We were married that June right after graduation. Lindsey did not want a big formal wedding, so we repeated our vows in front of a justice of the peace. My parents and sister were there, as was Lindsey’s mother, Anita Clark. Lindsey’s father had deserted them when Lindsey was eight years old.

After a week’s honeymoon in Cancun, we moved into a rental apartment mid-way between my work and the university and began our life as husband and wife. I was crazy in love with Lindsey and did everything I could to make her life better as she focused on her law degree.

Our marriage wasn’t one of burning passion; instead, it was from the start a comfortable, sharing relationship. Lindsey was not a demonstrative person, so we weren’t always hanging all over each other the way some couples (my parents for a prime example) do. We were adults, though, so that was good, right? The same criteria applied to sex. Lindsey seemed to enjoy our love making, but she never initiated it. She also wasn’t in the mood very often; she said the stress of school distracted her from feeling sexual. I understood and accepted that, and made myself satisfied with our weekly sessions, believing everything would be better once Lindsey finished law school.

Lindsey’s focus on school allowed me to concentrate on my job, and she understood the requirement to visit out of town building sites. When I had to be away for the night, Lindsey would stay with her mother. Lindsey’s mother was a licensed practical nurse and worked at an assisted care facility. I got along fine with my mother-in-law, she was nice enough but aloof, much like her daughter.

Mom and dad liked Lindsey well enough and went out of their way to show her she was part of the family. Lindsey was always extremely polite to my parents, but she felt uncomfortable with their very public displays of affection. Consequently, we did not spend much time around them.

My sister Shelby, on the other hand, didn’t even pretend to like Lindsey.

“Your relationship is all one sided, Josh. She’s using you and you are too blind to see it,” she told me.

I, of course, strongly disagreed with her assessment, so my relationship with my only sibling became strained and we started avoiding each other.

When Lindsey started her third year of law school, I secretly started building our dream home. The house was a thirty-five hundred square foot split plan ranch that we’d seen featured in an architectural design magazine. I made some changes to the basic plan and reengineered the roof truss system to open up the living area while retaining the basic look. With my Weaver & Wilson connections, and by being flexible with my construction schedule so subcontractors could use my house to fill in slack times in their business, I was able to build the house for a fraction of its real value.

Building our home was a revelation to me, in that I discovered that being a builder is what I really wanted to do with my life and skills. I loved the idea of turning a piece of ground and a blueprint into a home for someone.

Lindsey graduated at the top of her class, and accepted a position with the prestigious law firm of Crossman, Fielding and Blakemore.

After her commencement ceremony, I drove Lindsey out to the recently completed house and pulled into the circular driveway. When Lindsey looked at me questioningly, I handed her the door keys.

“I figured a newly minted high powered lawyer needed a home that reflected her new status,” I said.

That afternoon was the most excited I’d ever seen my usually low keyed wife. She was positively aglow as she walked through the house. She loved the brown granite counter tops and the huge island in the kitchen. And the wood floors made of Brazilian Cherry inlaid with a Maple border blew her away.

“Can we stay here tonight, Joshua?” she asked hopefully.

It was a question I hoped she’d ask. I nodded and led her down the hall to the master suite wing. Her eyes lit up when I threw open the double doors to the master bedroom and she saw the made up four post king-sized bed.

After Lindsey passed the bar exam and started working, I sat down with Gil Weaver and hammered out a way I could continue to work for him part time while I started my own construction company. The agreement we reached had me visiting sites three days a week while working out of my own offices.

I rented a nice two thousand square foot suite in a business complex and a warehouse space nearby of about the same size. I hired Mitzi and Frank Smeltzer, an older and very experienced construction superintendent and I was off and running. Lindsey handled our incorporation paperwork and J&L Construction and Engineering was in business. Gil Weaver, ever my friend and mentor, steered some small developers our way, and within a month, we had a dozen houses in the ground.

I dealt with the building department for permits and code compliance while Frank supervised the actual construction. Frank had the respect of both the subcontractors and the building inspectors, but I still visited each job once a week to verify that my structures were as soundly engineered as I could make them. I also kept my commitment to Gil, putting the same efforts into Weaver & Wilson. I was working my ass off, but I did not neglect my wife. In fact, Lindsey was working even longer hours than me as she threw herself into the fast paced and exacting world of corporate law.

By the end of the third month, my business was receiving enough revenues for me to start paying myself a modest salary to go along with what I earned from Weaver-Wilson. Lindsey was making good money and had a leased Lexus for which her firm paid, so we were well set financially. I paid our household expenses and Lindsey used her salary to furnish the house and acquire a new wardrobe.

I was proud of my wife as she blossomed and gained confidence. Although I missed her long hair, I was happy for her when she had her tresses cut to a professional shoulder-length and stylishly waved. I did not begrudge the time and money my wife spent on her appearance, and I was pleased and proud when she started wearing figure flattering skirts and blouses with her business jackets, instead of the tailored trousers she once preferred. I thought her new look was much softer, more feminine and even a little sexy.

Lindsey’s job also forced her to be a more social animal, and I was delighted to be her escort at the frequent social functions she was required to attend. I wasn’t crazy about the idea of dressing up in a monkey suit, but being with my suddenly vivacious and sophisticated wife made it all worth while. For her part, since I cleaned up well and could hold up my end of a conversation on most topics, Lindsey never complained about me being less outgoing than she was, or that I didn’t have anything in common with her contemporaries. She also didn’t complain about me missing a number of her events because of my commitment to Weaver-Wilson. How could she, when “work comes first” was her mantra?

After six months of pulling double duty, I finally had Gil’s two newly hired site engineers up to speed, so I wasn’t needed as a supervising engineer. Instead, I contracted with Weaver & Wilson as a consultant. My new job involved visiting sites with problems to help the on site engineers find solutions. In effect, I took over part of what Gil Weaver normally did. It was a huge boost to my ego that Gil thought highly enough of me to put me in that position, so I never turned down any of the evaluation visits he asked me to make.

While my workload throttled back, Lindsey’s kept increasing. She seldom arrived home before seven in the evening, and she usually brought work home with her. As her hours grew progressively longer, I made mention of it one night after we’d gone to bed.

“I’m worried you’re working too hard, Honey.”

I felt her shrug in the dark beside me.

“I’m the new person, Joshua, and I have to prove I’m up to the task. Mister Blakemore says I have a bright future as long as I’m willing to put in the effort. I’m just showing him that I am more than willing to do whatever it takes.”

I had met William Blakemore and the other two managing partners of Lindsey’s firm at their Christmas party. Blakemore was one of the movers and shakers in our city, and the acknowledged driving force behind the firm’s success. I knew Blakemore’s word carried a lot of weight regarding Lindsey’s career.

“I understand, Linds. Just don’t burn yourself out, okay?”

“Not a problem,” she confidently replied.

With Lindsey so often busy with her career, I started taking on more engineering work for other construction companies. I set up one of our unused bedrooms as a home office for me and had Archie Paulson hook me up with some computer equipment that kept me linked to the large terabyte server at my regular offices. Lindsey and I didn’t share the large home office I’d designed for us, because she said my being in there was a distraction.

With all we had going on, I still thought Lindsey and I had a very good relationship. Sure, we didn’t act all crazy in love like my parents, but I thought that was probably a good thing. I loved my wife with every fiber of my soul, and to me, our marriage was built on deep affection and respect for each other, traits I thought would much better stand the test of time. Also, I figured the early effort we were putting into our careers would soon pay off and we’d have more time for each other … and for the family I saw us with in my daydreams.

It was apparent that all my hopes and dreams and expectations had been totally and horribly wrong, shattered in one fell swoop on the afternoon of our fourth anniversary.

Chapter 2

I was broken out of my self-pitying reverie when Mitzi pulled to a stop in front of her immaculate three-bedroom Cape Cod style house. Mitzi received the house free and clear, in lieu of alimony, as part of her divorce settlement. She got the house, children and child support when her husband of nineteen years took up with a twenty-two-year-old bookkeeper at the accounting firm where he worked.

To her credit, Mitzi did not mention my problems as I followed her, zombie-like into the kitchen, even when her twin eighteen-year-old daughters looked at us in wide-eyed surprise. Mitzi’s daughters had recently graduated from high school and were slated to start at State in the fall. Thankfully, all three of the Morrison kids had prepaid tuition accounts set up when they were infants.

Dallas and Dakota Morrison looked more like Mitzi’s younger sisters rather than her daughters. The girls weren’t identical twins, but they both shared Mitzi’s petite build. Dallas also shared her mother’s strawberry blond hair and blue eyes, while Dakota had wavy brown tresses and her eyes were green.

When Mitzi finally broke her silence, she was all business.

“Take your bag down to Todd’s old room in the basement, then come back up. I’m going to change and I’ll be right back. Girls, you come with me,” she orchestrated.

I nodded and opened the door leading down to her partially finished basement. Todd’s room was a small bedroom with a single bed right past the laundry room and mechanicals. Todd was Mitzi’s oldest child. He was a sophomore at state, and was currently involved in some sort of soccer training camp run by the college. He wasn’t slated to return home for another two weeks. I threw my bag onto the bed and headed back upstairs with the paperwork from the process server. The Xanax had kicked in by then, and I was unnaturally calm and detached.

I was sitting at the small four seat table in the kitchen’s breakfast nook with the contents of the envelopes spread out in front of me, when Mitzi dropped into the chair to my left. She had changed out of the slacks and blouse she wore at work, into a pair of denim shorts and a Jimmy Buffet t-shirt. The shorts were fairly short and tight, and even in my sad state, I could tell her small perky breasts were unencumbered by a bra. Mitzi was a very attractive and well preserved woman to be over forty and the mother of three.

“Any hints in there?” she asked, pointing to the spread out papers.

I shook my head.

“She says irreconcilable differences.”

Mitzi nodded her understanding and then asked another question.

“How about the restraining order, why does she think she needs that?”

“She says my military experience and time in Afghanistan might make me prone to violence. She could have a point there,” I replied.

Mitzi snorted derisively.

“Bullshit! You are the most easy-going guy I know.”

I shrugged noncommittally and passed her the section that enumerated the financial settlement Lindsey was proposing.

She studied the documents for a few minutes then cocked her eyes up at me.

“WOW! You can tell the woman’s a lawyer. These financials are incredibly complete and the account balances on what you owe are current to the close of business yesterday.”

“Read on,” I said.

She flipped to the next page and started reading. Then gasped and looked back up at me.

“She wants the house and half your business, Josh. How can she get away with that?”

I sighed and thought back to how I’d titled the house and incorporated my business.

“I gave her the house as a graduation present. Both our names are on the loan but hers is the only name on the deed. When I incorporated J&L, I listed her as co-owner. I never imagined something like this, and I wanted to show her how important she was to me.”

Further conversation was tabled when Dallas and Dakota bounced into the room to announce they were going to order pizza and go pick it up. I wasn’t hungry, but I pulled out a couple of twenties and waved them towards the twins.

“Buy two, make one of them a meat lover’s with jalapeño and it’s my treat,” I said.

Dakota plucked the money out of my hand while Dallas was speed dialing Pizza Hut on her cell phone. Once the pizza was ordered, both girls kissed me and their mother on the cheek and scampered out the door.

Forty minutes later, I was listlessly picking at my pizza as the three Morrison women did their best to divert me from my troubles. Dallas and Dakota were especially talkative as they quizzed me on the engineering curriculum at state. Both girls were math whizzes, and were leaning towards a degree in electrical engineering or computer science. I thought they’d be better off with the engineering degree; but then again, I guessed that I might be slightly prejudiced. I finally promised them that I’d hook them up with my sister Shelby to get the other side of the story as well.

Mentioning my sister made me think that I’d have to tell my family about Lindsey and me. I cringed at the thought, because I knew along with telling them, I’d probably also have to ask to move back home temporarily until I found another place.

At the age of thirty, I was moving back in with Mommy and Daddy, my tail tucked between my legs like a whipped dog. How fucking sad was that?

---

After a fitful night of more tossing and turning than sleep, Dakota Morrison drove me back to the office Saturday morning so I could collect my truck. Before I hopped into the truck’s cab, Dakota surprised me with a tight lingering hug and a kiss on the lips.

“Mom was right, that bitch is crazy for letting you go,” I heard her mutter as she walked back to her car.

I sucked it up, drove straight to my parent’s house and told them the whole sad story. They were appropriately sympathetic and once again volunteered their basement. Dad even went with me to pick up some of my stuff from the U-Store-It over on Tenth Street.

I gave a surprised grunt when I opened the storage unit and saw the neatly labeled and professionally packed boxes stacked inside the ten by ten foot room. There was even a manifest, listing every item in every box that someone had taped to the inside of the door. As with everything, Lindsey had been thoroughly efficient in exorcising me from her life. In the end, I took the manifest, a large garment box of work clothes, and a much smaller box that was labeled as containing my laptop and back up hard drive. The rest I left to go through at a later date.

When we made it back to the house, Shelby Jane was there with Mom. To her eternal credit, my sister wasn’t there to gloat. Instead, she hugged me tight and told me how sorry she was for what I was going through.

Shelby helped me unload my stuff from my truck and quickly and efficiently set up my computer. Mom and dad still had a cable modem with a wireless router, so I was in business in only minutes. I put away my clothes and mounted my thirty-two inch flat panel television to the wall. Shelby helped me put fresh linen on the bed and presto … it was as if I had never left. That thought depressed the hell out of me.

Shelby, however, wasn’t going to let me wallow in self pity.

“Let me see the papers, Josh. Mitzi told me how bad she’s fucking you over, but I want to see for my self,” she demanded.

I flipped her the manila envelope.

“Lindsey wouldn’t fuck me over, Shel. She’s entitled to everything she asked for.”

Shelby clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, but didn’t say anything. She rapidly read through the divorce petition and then zeroed in on the proposed settlement. When she finished reading, she held up the document and stabbed it with her index finger.

“She is proposing that she assume the mortgage on your house and buy out your equity for fifty-thousand. It has to be worth three times that. And where did she get that kind of money anyway?” Shelby asked.

I shrugged wearily. None of this mattered in the least to me.

“Let it go, Sis. I don’t want the house anyway, if she isn’t there to share it.”

Shelby did let the house go, but she immediately focused in on my business. And in the end, she convinced me that I at least needed to maintain a majority ownership so decisions could be made without Lindsey’s involvement. Right then I could not have cared less for the company, but I had people who depended on J&L for their livelihood, so I scratched out the fifty - fifty split and changed the numbers to fifty-one and forty-nine.

Sunday, I pretty much stayed in my apartment, coming out only to pick at the meals my mother prepared. But I wasn’t down there sulking or feeling sorry for myself. Instead, I was planning on how I could get my wife back. Listen, I was a Ranger, and a Ranger never quits, and I’m an engineer, a man who solves problems, so determination replaced my despair. All I needed was a plan.

The first order of business was to get Lindsey to at least talk to me, so I decided that I’d mosey over to her law offices Monday morning, and drop off the changes I’d made to the settlement documents. I wasn’t planning on the divorce moving forward; to me, the documents were merely a conversation starter.

The next morning, I was already in my office when Mitzi arrived at eight. She peeked her head into my office and gave me an inquiring look.

“I didn’t expect to see you looking so chipper or dressed so smartly this morning,” she said.

I flicked an imaginary piece of lint off the sleeve of my corduroy sports coat and shrugged.

“I’m going to try to see Lindsey today and convince her to drop this divorce foolishness. I love her, Mitzi, and I am going to do everything I can to win her back.”

Mitzi clearly looked as if she disagreed with me, but she nodded her head in understanding and ducked back out of my office. I sighed and leaned back in my chair. I knew Mitzi was worried about me dragging out my pain and suffering by not making a clean break from Lindsey. I appreciated her for caring about my heart, but I wasn’t interested in the least in Mitzi’s doubts.

It was shortly after nine that same morning, when I eased my truck in one of the too small spaces of the parking garage connected to the modern high-rise building that housed the offices of Crossman, Fielding and Blakemore. CF&B occupied the top three floors of the twenty story office tower. The elevators in the building’s lobby only ascended up to the eighteenth floor, which was the law firm’s reception area.

I stepped off the elevator and into the plush reception area. A very pretty and immaculately-dressed young woman behind a horseshoe shaped desk gave me a dazzling smile.

“Good morning,” she said in a friendly and well modulated voice, “welcome to Crossman, Fielding and Blakemore. How can we help you today?”

“Good morning,” I replied just as courteously. “I have some paper work I need to personally deliver to Missus Fuller.”

“Certainly, Sir, may I have your name please?”

Her eyebrows twitched when I gave her my name, I could tell immediately she knew of me. She recovered quickly, though, and gave me another of her professional smiles as she picked up the phone.

“Please have a seat, Mister Fuller; someone will be out for you shortly.”

I cooled my heels in the outer lobby for thirty minutes until someone finally came for me. I was expecting Lindsey’s PA, a young woman named Cindy; instead, it was someone I’d never met before. Two things about Crossman, Fielding and Blakemore were readily apparent I thought as the woman approached me. One was that the women working here were all good looking, and the other was that even the mailroom guys here were better dressed than I. The woman glided to a stop in front of me and gave me the famous CF&B smile, I mentally added great dental plan to my list.

“Mister Fuller,” she said as she extended her hand towards me, “I’m Amber.”

Of course she was, and I’ll bet the receptionist was named Tiffany. I took her hand gently and bowed slightly over it, all the while looking her in the eye, just the way parents taught me. They might have been hippies, but they were sticklers for manners.

“I’m pleased to meet you,” I said, still avoiding even a glance at the impressive cleavage she had on tasteful display.

She squeezed my hand slightly and her smile finally reached her eyes. Then she dropped my hand and gracefully pirouetted, no mean feat, considering she was wearing three inch heels.

“Follow me please,” she said over her shoulder.

Amber, I decided, looked as good from the back as she did from the front. We made one right turn and stopped in front of a half obscure glass door marked ‘Sonia Peoples’ in gold leaf. Amber swung open the door and motioned me inside.

Sonia Peoples had a nice office; it was about twenty feet deep and twelve feet wide. Her desk was at the far end, in front of a bank of floor to ceiling darkly tinted windows. The windows famed an exceptional view of the bay. Between the door and the desk was a square coffee table flanked by a pair of comfortable looking wing chairs, and a matching love seat. There was a decanter of water, a couple of stemmed water glasses and a blue file folder on the glass topped table.

Sonia rose from behind her desk as I entered the room and stepped around to greet me. Sonia was exotically Mediterranean in appearance, with thick black hair in a French braid and almond shaped brown eyes. She was a short woman, even in heels she was barely five-five. I guessed that she was a few years older than I, mid-thirties maybe. We exchanged names without a handshake and she motioned me to sit in one of the wing chairs while she gracefully folded herself into the other. Amber perched herself on the couch to my right.

“Sorry I kept you waiting Mister Fuller, but it took a few minutes to get Lindsey’s approval on the changes you made and to print the new petition. Amber is a notary and is here as a witness,” she said as she opened the folder on the table.

I didn’t even spare the folder a glance.

“Where’s Lindsey and why am I meeting with you instead of her?” I asked.

“Lindsey is unavailable, but we don’t need her here anyway. After all, she agreed to your changes,” Sonia answered.

“Too busy to tell me why she wants to destroy our marriage?” I asked incredulously.

Sonia cocked her head to the side and regarded me intently.

“It was my understanding that your marriage is irreconcilably broken and you wouldn’t oppose the divorce. So why is it necessary for you two to meet? Besides, such a meeting would violate the order of protection.” she said reasonably.

I was starting to get a little hot under the collar. This whole thing was happening around me and all I had been doing was acting defensively. That was about to change.

“I didn’t have a clue my marriage was in trouble until your process server ambushed me Friday afternoon. Still, if Lindsey wants a divorce, I might not oppose it, but she’s going to have to tell me why, face to face. And this restraining order is a bunch of crap. I’ve never even raised my voice at Lindsey, let alone my hand,” I said firmly.

My statement didn’t faze Sonia in the least. In fact, her voice took on a slightly steely edge.

“The firm thought the order quite appropriate, given your rather violent past as some sort of commando in Afghanistan. Besides, Missus Fuller did not accuse you of any mistreatment in her petition.”

Sonia sighed and her voice lost its hard edge. When she spoke again, it was almost tenderly, she was a hell of a convincing lawyer.

“Listen Josh, this is a no fault state, the settlement is fair, and the divorce is going forward, whether you like it or not. Lindsey bears you no animosity; she just wants her freedom. If you truly loved her, you’ll do this for her.”

Sonia opened the folder and flipped the document to the last page and handed me a pen.

“Be the bigger person, Josh, sign this so you can both get on with your lives,” she said softly.

I almost did just that. It broke my heart, but I did love Lindsey enough to let her go. I was leaning towards the document while Sonia smiled encouragingly, when my brain kicked into gear. What the hell was the rush? If I signed this now, I would never get the chance to change Lindsey’s mind. I dropped the pen and leaned back in the chair.

“Nice try counselor, but I’m not signing anything until Lindsey and I talk. Besides, something doesn’t feel right about all this. You seem in too big a hurry for some reason, so I think I need a lawyer of my own to protect my interests,” I said as I stood up.

Sonia frowned and started to say something, but I spun on my heels and headed for the door.

“I’ll let myself out,” I said curtly.

Amber jumped up from the couch and scurried after me. She escorted me to the elevators. This time she walked by my side, matching me stride for stride. When we rounded the corner away from Sonia’s office, she put her hand on my arm and stopped walking. I stopped too, and looked at her.

“I’m sorry you are going through this, Mister Fuller, Cindy told me you are a really nice guy. Please don’t blame Sonia and me for this, our instructions come directly from Mister Blakemore,” she said, her voice so soft I could barely hear her.

Before I could ask her what she meant, she strode off towards the lobby. When we reached the elevators, Amber looked around to make sure no one was paying us any extra attention and then pressed a business card into my hand.

“My home and cell number are on the back. If this doesn’t turn out well for you, give me a call. I’m a good listener, and there is a dearth of good men in this burg,” she said.

I palmed the card and took her hand in mine.

“Thanks, Amber, I appreciate that. But I can’t imagine a man not wanting to be good for someone like you,” I said sincerely.

Amber blushed as she pulled her hand from mine, but she favored me with another genuine smile.

“Lindsey must be nuts,” she said as she walked away.

I was deep in thought as I rode down the elevator then walked out of the building. Amber’s mentioning Blakemore’s involvement was unsettling. In a firm of high priced skilled attorneys, why did he think it necessary to ride herd on Lindsey’s divorce? The only reason I could think of turned my stomach.

Chapter 3

I gnawed on the suspicion of Lindsey having an affair with Blakemore all day. The more I thought about it, the more likely it seemed, because Blakemore was ‘The Golden Boy’ of that firm.

His full name was William Royce Blakemore, but he earned the nickname ‘Wild Bill’ during his four years playing Free Safety for the University of Florida Gators and twice being selected an All-American. But Wild Bill wasn’t just some dumb jock. He managed to graduate in four years with a GPA of 3.8. He majored in US History and minored in Criminal Justice.

Blakemore was selected high in the first round of the NFL draft by the Miami Dolphins. He spent five years on the Dolphins and garnered three Pro-Bowl rings before he blew out his right knee in a freak misstep on a rain slick field. By then though, he’d earned his Juris Doctor degree from the University Of Miami School Of Law. So without missing a beat, Blakemore moved to our city, signed on with Crossman and Fielding, and his legal star has been on the ascension ever since. There was even speculation of a run for political office against our scandal-tainted congressional representative.

Blakemore was an intimidating rival. He was movie star handsome, rich, manly and smart as hell. But you know what? He still put his pants on one leg at a time, and I was never one to back down from a challenge just because odds were long.

At four that afternoon, I made up some lame excuse and convinced Mitzi to swap vehicles with me for the evening. By five, I was sitting in Mitzi’s Toyota on level two of the parking garage adjacent to the Crossman building. My parking spot gave me an unobstructed view of Lindsey’s Lexus.

Luckily, I had my pad of quarter inch square graph paper to help keep me amused, because Lindsey didn’t arrive at her car until almost seven.

Lo and behold, Billy Boy Blakemore came strolling out with her. There were no public displays of affection between them, but they did lean against the car, talking for about fifteen minutes. Then Blakemore looked at his watch and pushed away from her car. Lindsey put her hand on his arm, stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. He gave her a warm smile as she slid into her car and started it up.

Blakemore stood there watching her until her taillights disappeared around a turn, then casually walked off. A minute later, he whizzed by me, seated behind the wheel of a silver Maybach 57S.

I’m not that proud of this next little bit, but I’ll tell it to you anyway.

Once Blakemore zoomed by me, I fired up the Camry and headed out. I had every intention of going straight to Mitzi’s place to return her car, until I saw the blinking neon sign of Maybelline’s Bar. It just so happens that Maybelline Capers was a friend of mine because J&L construction designed and built her dream home. Maybelline had been after me for months to stop by and have a drink at her bar. A slug of Jack Daniels seemed just the ticket for my broken heart right then, so I squeezed Mitzi’s Camry into the right hand lane and swung into the bar’s gravel parking lot.

It was just my luck that neither Maybelline nor her husband, Leon, were in the bar that evening. They had taken a few days off to visit Leon’s ailing sister. The afternoon bartender was a nice older gal with a sweet disposition. She served me up a double Jack, water back, and was sensitive enough to my mood to leave me to drink in peace.

By the time the night bartender came on duty, I was on my third double. Since I was sitting quietly at the end of the bar, I guess the older lady did not brief the new tender on my consumption so far. The new gal delivered me two more doubles in the next thirty minutes. The ten very healthy shots of whiskey were about five more than I’d ever had at one sitting in my life, yet they didn’t seem to be affecting me. I was calm; I was cool; I was in control; I ordered two more.

Somewhere in the middle of double number six, two big, burly, tattooed bikers walked into the bar and copped a squat on the stools to my left. At that same exact moment, someone reached into my head and flipped on the stupid switch.

That was a preview of Tainted Love. To read the rest purchase the book.

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