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She’s got a point. I roll to a stop in the parking lot, cut the lights, and roll down the windows. She leans over and gives me a kiss.
“Remember. Only married guys. They deserve it the worst.”
“Just like the last time.”
I don’t say anything, just keep my focus ahead, the anger in me already brewing. Hard.
I think about my little ones Santino, Sofia, Sebastian, Skylar, and Serenity, and how they’re having fun without their daddy. What a crock of bullshit.
But that only compares to what’s about to happen next.
My wife steps out of our Range Rover in her red dress and moves toward the hotel bar. The one we especially picked out because it’s just on the other side of the floor-to-ceiling windows, which means I can watch everything.
And by watch I mean get wound up, pissed the fuck off to the point I have no choice but to let my aggression out, to destroy someone. Someone who deserves it, which is why I reminded my woman to only allow married men to play our game.
I hate this fucking game. Fucking hate it! But I need it. Need it to stay sane. All the jealousy builds up over the course of hours, days, weeks, and months and I need to have an outlet to release it.
Fishing? Are you fucking kidding me?
Basketball? That’s just another way to bond with the kids. How can I get angry when I’m doing that?
But this? This here takes the cake, makes me so mad I almost feel sorry for the sack of shit who’s going to be tonight’s lucky contestant. Almost…but not.
Sapphire sits down and before she can even order a drink comes over.
I lean back in my seat, breathe out hard, and crack my knuckles.
Not twenty seconds after the bartender slides the drink to her a man slides onto the stool next to her.
“Don’t tell me a woman as beautiful as yourself is here drinking all alone,” the man says. I watch as my woman’s eyes go to his hand and then she sends me the single, a subtle nod that tells me he’s wearing a ring. A wedding ring.
“I’m sorry, but I’m married,” she says, just staring at the drink but not so much as touching it let alone sipping on it, showing any sign of acceptance.
“Well if your husband isn’t here…and my wife isn’t here…neither of them has to know, do they?”
I want to put my fist through the windshield. Sapphire has on her wedding ringandthe guy saw it.Andhe fucking acknowledged it.
I crack my knuckles for what must be the fifth time, my body so angry I’m shaking, and the earpiece I have which is wirelessly communicating with the microphone delicately laced into Sapphire’s falls out of my ear and onto the seat. I’ve heard enough, but I need to wait.
Sapphire says something to the guy. I already know what because we practiced this. She doesn’t deviate from the script and neither do I.
Jealousy courses through me, the fucker trying to get a look at her without her knowing as she stands from her stool, but she extends her hand so he can go first…and he does, like the pussy he is.
They walk outside and predictably he pulls out a cigarette package, taps the bottom and one falls out. He takes it and lights it, which means he plans on being here for a while.
Which gives me more than enough time to do what I need.
I look in the rearview mirror. My skin is beet red, my eyes bloodshot and I’m sweating all over. I grab the door handle and jerk the damn thing so hard I almost break it. Fuck it. I try again, throwing my shoulder into the door and this time I do break part of the paneling, but that’s all collateral damage.
All the anger, the rage, the jealousy that’s built up over the last few weeks rises up in me. The neighbors trying to steal time with my children. My kids going to school where teachers give my boys detention because they beat the piss out of other boys who won’t leave their sisters alone. Fuck it. I’m just mad at the world.
And more than anything I’m mad at pricks like this. Cheating spouses.
I don’t need Jerry Springer to get my rocks off. I’ll do it myself, in real fucking time.
As I march toward the guy he takes a drag on his cigarette, the sound of my boots on the cold pavement catching his attention. He turns toward me, his body melting into the wall as he tries to make himself smaller.
“Hey honey,” my wife says.
