I slowly got up, went into Shawn’s kitchen, and started the coffee brewing. I walked my naked ass into his bathroom, and got in the shower. The hot water, and steam building up in the bathroom, started to make me feel like a human being again. I just stood. The water running over my head, down my back, felt good. The hot water was almost burning my flesh, after I turned it up even more. Finally feeling better, I shut it off, stepped out and dried off.
Today was a new day. I would find some ibuprofen, some of that coffee that I brewed, and figure out what I was going to do with the rest of my life. Also, I really had to figure out how I was going to get even with my ex-business partner, along with my wayward wife. Reflecting on the situation, and stepping out of my own shoes for a minute, I could see that she wasn’t in some long-term love affair with that asshole, but it still hurt the same regardless.
I sat at his table in the kitchen, sipping the coffee. Shawn came out, looked about as bad as I still felt on the inside, and sat down across from me. “Dude, we should NOT be allowed to drink Tequila together,” he observed.
“Shawn, I would agree with you, but I don’t remember much about what we did or didn’t have. I have vague memories of doing Tequila shots off some bar slut’s belly button, you had one of those flaming shots, and I think I was double-fisting Jello shots and Rum & Cokes. Dude what DIDN’T we drink last night?”
“All in the name of ‘therapy’,” he said, using his fingers for air quotes around therapy. He then put his head into his hands, resting his elbows on the table. “UGH, I feel like shit.”
“You look like death warmed over, and I feel like it,” I added.
So, the two of us commiserated over our own stupidity for a bit, and then he stood up. We one-arm hugged, and knew that he was right, about the therapy part, that is. I was on the verge of tears again, but held it in. Mostly held it in because I think I was so dehydrated that my body just couldn’t afford to waste any of the precious water I had left on useless tears. That was my excuse anyhow, sounds manly enough.
He stepped back, announced, “I’m gonna go shower, then you and I are gonna sit and discuss your next moves.”
I just nodded. He walked off to his bathroom, and basically repeated the process that I had, steam and all. I got another cup of coffee, and found some ibuprofen, taking like four of those suckers. The coffee was still pretty hot, but I drank it fast anyhow. My gums and roof of my mouth were a bit tender, but I didn’t care. It seemed to be proof that I was still alive, anyhow.
While I sat listening to the sounds of his shower running, I looked back on the last few days, and even as far back as the last few years. We had a good marriage, didn’t we? How did she get fooled SO quickly, by that arrogant asshole that I used to call a partner? When we had talked about our marriage, and cheating, we both agreed that it was something that we would never do to each other. I had always thought we had a good, open line of communication between the two of us. I would have thought… no, expected her to come to me, and at least demand an explanation, before just throwing her wedding vows down the toilet and letting some snake get his cock in her.
I thought about that night at the restaurant, the good times we had as a family over the last few weeks. How could something so good, end so fast? How would my little girl handle this? How am I going to handle this? How are any humans supposed to live through betrayal like this?
OK, WAY too much of this self-reflection shit going on. I mentally put my foot down. Drew the line in the sand. THIS was going to be the end of my self-imposed pity party. It was time to live up to an old adage that my grandpa used to always tell me when I was little, ‘When things get tough, just put one foot in front of the other. Eventually when you look up, you will be farther ahead than you think.’
Looking at Shawn’s desk, sitting in the living room, I found what I was looking for. I got a pad of paper, and a pen. I needed some lists, somewhere to start from. Page one, a list of things I needed to do going forward. Page 2, list of things to help accomplish page one.
Page One – Priorities:
Find way to fuck Cyrus over hard!
Deal with Caitlin, burn her or just walk away?
Sell off everything to do with Rapid Relief Logistics.
Move, but to where?
Keep in contact with Maddy!
Pay Shawn back, for everything.
Page Two – Things needed for page one stuff:
Divorce Lawyer
Business Lawyer
Burner Cell phones – Three? Four?
Find place to live
Hey, it was a small pad. I would have put them all on one page if it were larger. Yeah sure, because I care so much about the trees, right? Damn, I was even starting to critique myself, and am now holding a conversation inside my own head. FUCK! My list looked pretty pathetic after reviewing it, but it was a start. What I needed was a plan to go with this list of stuff. This might be a little tricky. I mean, come on, I am not exactly James Bond or anything. I don’t have any ninja’s or super spies at my disposal. I would need more information, and go from there.
Shawn re-emerged from his bedroom, after getting dressed for the day. We both finished another cup of coffee, mostly in silence. Honestly, it was just plain awkward. I finally had enough.
“Shawn, I might need your help with some rough ideas that I have come up with, to move forward.” I slid the pad over to him.
He read the items over, nodding his head a few times, before sliding it back over to me. “You are going to need some help for sure. I can help with most, but there isn’t much I can do about Cyrus. I won’t go back to jail. Sorry, but I kept that a secret from you when you hired me. Most people don’t like the idea of an ex-con working for them, regardless of the job. Sorry that I didn’t tell you before…”
“Shawn, don’t sweat it man. I trust you completely, or else I wouldn’t have hired you. Being an ex-con wouldn’t have mattered, anyhow. Although, someday, I may ask you about why you were in,” I said with a small grin.
“OK man, and thanks. So for this list of yours, you got any plans yet? For starters, you need to figure out where you are going to live. You can crash here for a little while, but you will need to find a more permanent place to stay, eventually.
“Second, I know the number for a really good divorce attorney, the one I used against Paula, my ex. Her name is Sandra Collins, and she is a really tough negotiator. She won’t let you get screwed, if possible. As for corporate law and stuff, I am not as sure, but maybe Sandra could recommend someone.
“Lastly, you should call that P. I. that I told you about. He might be able to dig up the information you need, to get some justice.”
I just shook my head. How had it come to this? “Ok, I think once I get some legal stuff sorted, I will leave town for a while. I still don’t know where I am going to move to, but for now I just have to clear my head. I might use up what’s left of that trip that we were supposed to take.” I slammed my fist on the table. “DAMN IT!”
Shawn sat quiet for a minute, to let my anger dissipate some. “Ok, James, well just let me know what you plan to do man. Also, I hate to bring this up, but am I going to have to hunt for a new job?” he asked with a slight grin.
I grinned back, mostly to try to lighten the mood. “Probably, but wherever I go I’ll let you know if I need a good mechanic. I’m not done flying. Aside from my daughter, it’s the only other love I have left.”
“That’s fair, thanks.”
“Ok, first order of business. I need to make some calls. I might be a while, so will take them out on the patio, OK?”
“Sure thing man,” replied Shawn.
I walked to his sliding door that led to the apartment’s small patio overlooking a river, opened it, and went out on the balcony. At least his place had a nice view. I slid the door shut, and pulled out my phone. I didn’t really want to make any of these calls, but I had to get them over with. Question is who to call first?
I decided to call the lawyer that Shawn recommended, Sandra Collins. When I called her, her assistant picked up after the second ring. After a brief conversation, I had an appointment to go see her later, at one in the afternoon.
My second call was to Curt Simpson, the P. I. that Shawn had recommended. It was a short conversation, setting up an appointment to see him at eleven. He sounded gruff, and definitely didn’t stay on the phone any longer than was absolutely necessary.
After making those calls, I told Shawn I had to go take care of some things. I went to a local Walmart, and picked up some of the things I would need. I was going to try not to give myself any time to sit and think today. It still felt like I had been broadsided. Like those commercials of a car getting hit in the side, and the crash-test dummies are banging around inside with glass flying. That was how I felt my life was going. And I was still in that car.
Among the items I got, were a couple of pre-paid phones that I only intended to use, at maximum, twice per phone. I really didn’t want anyone to find me. I also got a few things needed for extended traveling, and a few new articles of lighter clothing. If I was going to do as I suggested to Shawn, I would need a lot of shorts and light shirts.