Mercenary

The place was very busy. I took a seat at the only available table and watched her make her way up the line. I caught myself again admiring this woman's walk. She moved like a cat with authority. When she arrived at the front there was quite a commotion. I saw several people: two men and a very pregnant very pretty woman come from around the counter to greet her. The woman was absolutely stunning. As I turned away I caught a number of men around me also checking her out.

For some reason I didn't like the looks of the men with Noelle. One had an eye patch the other was a tall thinly built black man. She obviously didn't share my concern. Hugs were being given all around and Noelle lit up in a radiant smile. My anxiety over both men dissipated replaced with a warm feeling from seeing her so happy, and yet for some reason I was still slightly uncomfortable.

Perhaps it was the attention being paid her. When they embraced I found myself becoming annoyed. I had never felt that before. In fact, I had always had a certain sense of pride when a few of the salesmen from upstairs had flirted with her, so this emotion came as a complete surprise.

They were all brought back to our table and introduced. The man with the patch turned out be her cousin, the woman his wife and the other man his partner. They all treated me very warmly and I tried to reciprocate; yet internally I was still unsure of my reaction; I was so engaged in hiding any appearance of possessiveness.

Today was the fourth anniversary of their shop and they were delighted that Noelle had stopped by to see them. I don't think any of them paid me much close attention to notice any discomfort on my part.

We stayed through coffee and several cannolis after everyone had returned to their jobs. By now I understood why the shop was so crowed. The coffee and pastries were really good. They provided an excellent diversion. It was odd how food acted at times as a pacifier.

The atmosphere of this place intrigued me. A couple of years before I had visited K-Paul's Louisiana Kitchen in New Orleans; after the meal, assuming you 'cleaned your plate', the staff would affix a gold star to your forehead. I recalled the feeling of sitting in a restaurant full of patrons wearing gold stars, the same ones we used in kindergarten. That similar feeling of well being overcame me as I surveyed the customers in the surrounding tables.

People were actually enjoying themselves. We had been sitting a full 10 minutes and the crowd had not abated. Whatever intangible there is that makes a restaurant a place to be, they had found the formula here. Just as I was about to comment on that to Noelle, the black man known as Joey, who I had met minutes before came towards our table.

"Noelle, do you have a moment?"

She turned smiling. "Anytime Joey, what can I do for you?"

The man took a seat next to her. "I understand that you volunteer with the Literacy project. I'm interested in joining but I'd like to know more about it before I make a commitment."

"What would you like to know?"

"The folks you tutor, do they know how to read at all? I'm worried that I might not have enough of a background to help. Did you get any training before you started?"

Noelle shifted slightly in her set and nodded. Her eyes shown bright as she began. This was a subject close to her heart.

"Most of the people I've worked recognized a few words, but I've had a few that could not. You learn how to approach both students. It's really not that difficult. There is an introductory session to get you trained in our role. It's been several years since I've taken it but Peter took it last year. He can give you a better rundown."

They both looked over at me. Why she put me on the spot I don't know. Noelle certainly knew more about the ins and outs of the program than I did.

I began to give Joey my assessment of the training. To me, it wasn't only reading. My students could not count either and that was proving to be more of a challenge. However, after I uttered the first sentence I noticed that he seemed slightly distracted. His attention was focused behind me. So naturally I turned around. Aside from the crowd of folks going to and from the concourse I didn't see anything unusual, so I turned back to him. He was ready with an answer.

"That dude over there has been eyeballing you guys since before I got to the table. Do you recognize him?"

I turned again in that direction. "Which one is he? No one stands out."

"Down the hall, he's walking away from us, on the right, a tall blond guy in a grey jacket. "

"I see him", I said. He was now half a block away and I couldn't make out his face, but I knew it was the man from the photo. Why he saw a need to spy on me was another matter.

Joey was still curious. "Any idea who he was?"

"Yeah" was all I said. Noelle stood up. Her face betrayed worry. I grabbed my jacket. "I hate to cut this short but we had better go. I'll drop by later in the week and perhaps we can continue this conversation." With that we were off.

Noelle was silent until we reached street level. Then she turned to me. "This man is dangerous Peter. I don't know what he has in mind, please be careful."

I merely nodded. That was all that was said about the incident.

Chapter 5: The Truth of Things

At the end of the first week of November, I received my last call from Hollis. The report was ready and we agreed to meet the next morning to review their findings.

The intervening month with Paige had not lessened my resolve. She was home more often now when I arrived, and her 'study group' consumed less of her conversation as well as her time. We were talking every evening, but avoided the subject of her having been with another man.

I knew I wasn't going to be the one to broach the subject. I had made the allegation and it was up to Paige to convince me otherwise. If she were seeking to calm my anxiety by making her activities more transparent it wasn't working. She kept me abreast of her schedule but I found that information meaningless. I wanted to know more about her past activities.

Still awkward around each other, there hadn't been any intimacy between us for over five weeks. For the first time that morning, she brought up that very fact before leaving for school. I kept the conversation from ending in an argument by asking her to dinner that Saturday. Her face expressed relief in the invitation. It was after she left that I made my way to the offices of Hollis and Willow.

Hollis was there to greet me again but this time he was accompanied by a younger man. The three of us convened in the same conference room. I noted that Hollis was more solemn in his demeanor than in our first meeting.

"Mr. Stuart this is Josh Clayborne, the lead investigator on your case. We've concluded our work. Here is our final report", he ended before handing me a folder. "We regret to report that your wife has been engaged in a relationship with a classmate, a Richard Lindenhall. Our investigators observed the parties together socially on at least nine occasions over the last three weeks. This is not a mere friendship, the relationship is indeed sexual." He paused at that moment to remove two 8 by 10 glossies. He passed them to me. I took a deep breath as I accepted them. "Pictures, more fucking pictures", I thought.

"This is somewhat unusual, but on one occasion we observed your wife and Mr. Lindenhall engaged in sexual intercourse in a music room in the main library of the University. "

As I stared at the new photographs my heart seemed to stop beating for several seconds. I told myself that whatever they obtained I could handle, but as I saw the picture of Lindenhall's naked ass between my wife's legs my eyes began to fill. There she was in a tight embrace her face clearly shown above his shoulder. Her eyes were closed and a faint smile covered her face as they mated.

In the second photo Lindenhall appeared to be riding Paige hard in a missionary position. I was struck by his hand held around her throat as if he were choking her during the act. This was Paige in a pose foreign to me.

Hollis and Clayborne were silent as I studied their handiwork. It was several minutes before I broke the silence.

"Tell me about him", I finally managed to say, my voice scarcely above a whisper. Hollis raised an eyebrow in response before answering.

"Richard Lindenhall is a first year graduate student like your wife. He's 25, married, and the father of one. He's set to be a third generation Wharton alum. His great, great grandfather was a business associate of Joe Wharton himself. He comes from old money. "

"His father is a senior VP at Woolsey Co., the city's largest brokerage. Richard worked there after getting his BA. His elevation in the firm requires an MBA so daddy arranged his admission to Wharton. Those we've interviewed don't think too highly of his seriousness for the business. To date he has shown interest only in alcohol and women."

"He currently lives in Gladwyn and maintains an apartment off the Penn campus. He and your wife visited there several times during the first week of our observations."

"How old is the child?" I said interrupting Mr. Hollis. He seemed slightly put off by the question. His current theme was Lindenhall, not his child.

It was Clayborne who answered. "Two."

I couldn't hide my disgust. This man was married with a family. Paige was a fool to take such a risk. How would his wife take the news of his escapades with another woman? My eyes drifted back to the photos as Hollis continued.

"Mr. Stuart I need to tell you that all of our direct evidence of the affair comes only from the first two weeks of our investigation. They mostly had their trysts at his apartment, but they weren't above using your apartment too. However, for the last two weeks these two have not continued their activities. In fact, from the phone tap made in your apartment we've heard your wife explicitly end their affair. Our field surveillance confirms her statements."

It took a few minutes for his statements to sink in. I was so busy studying the photographs of Paige in the library that I almost asked Hollis to repeat himself. Did he say our apartment? Paige brought this asshole to our apartment? We had only been in the building since the first of the year and I had made quite a few friends on the floor. Was she purposely trying to risk exposure? Or was this Lindenhall's idea, a way of making a statement, marking a territory?

So I'm to believe that now Paige was finished playing the whore? Did the lovers have a spat and decide to take a break? Was this really the end? Perhaps if I heard them together I would know. That thought prefaced my next question.

"Can I hear the last recordings you have of them...together? I want to hear them after this 'breakup'."

"Certainly Mr. Stuart, we can play the last several recordings", Hollis said as he nodded to his associate. The man pressed a button on a small remote and we were bombarded by Paige's conversations with Lindenhall. Hearing my wife and her lover in surround-sound was eerie. I winced every time she spoke.

The conversations were as Hollis had stated. Each began as a call from Lindenhall, and each time she told him it was over. In the last exchange she threatened to go to his wife if he didn't leave her alone. Her voice was authoritative, her manner curt. Lindenhall was being dismissed like a servant.

I heard desperation in his voice. That too surprised me. In my grief I had previously envisioned Lindenhall as the aggressor and the one in control of the relationship. Now I wasn't so sure if Paige hadn't approached him! Lindenhall was almost begging, yet my wife's voice remained steady throughout. Did I sound this way in my exchanges with her?

"Well son, have you heard enough? We have other calls, mostly between her and her sister, but there are also a few others. The conversations with her sister indicate that she was a willing party to the deception. She's employed at the same brokerage, and it appears she arranged their introduction. It's all in our report. I'm going to turn the meeting over to Clayborne. He can answer any questions you might have."

With that his associate began the formal conveyance of findings. For the next hour Paige's affair was laid bare. Sometime early during the conference I zoned out and stopped listening. There were vital aspects I would read about later in their report. Hollis was right; the images would remain with me for a long time.

"Why?" I whispered to myself when there seemed to be a short lull in the presentation.

"Excuse me?" said Hollis looking concerned. "Mr. Stuart, did you say something?"

"I said why. Why did she do this?"

It was a rhetorical question. No answer was expected. I looked over at Hollis. He couldn't hold my stare; he looked over at Clayborne and nodded. I was perplexed, until Clayborne spoke up.

"Well, Mr. Stuart we have some idea of how to answer that question. From the conversations between your wife and her sister you are referred to as a "starter husband". It seems that she planned to divorce you right after she had completed her studies. We surmise that this Richard Lindenhall was targeted as her next intended."

"Huh?"

"It's in our report. The plot was mainly described by her sister. However, it's unknown as to which of them conceived the scheme, and exactly how long ago they began its execution."

"This was planned?" I thought. I closed my eyes. Theirs' was no chance meeting. I couldn't believe this. It just couldn't be true. It didn't make sense. For the last two and a half years she and I had worked together with a single purpose in mind, to get her into grad school. Why would she jeopardize all we had worked for?

If I'm to believe Hollis, then she was deceiving me the entire time, and this Lindenhall character was likely as much in the dark as me. This was too incredible. Was it truly possible that we were both being played? I couldn't shake the thought. She planned this. The bitch planned this.

I drew a deep breath. I had never ever thought of my wife as a bitch. I didn't even like the use of that epitaph. Now I was thinking it without reservation. What kind of low life scheme was this? What kind of mind would think that this was OK? How fucking heartless was she? Did I mean nothing to her? Nothing. Was I but a means to an end, whatever that was?

That was it for me. The meeting stopped. Hollis handed me their written report with the exhibits, probably a few hundred pages altogether. Another copy was being delivered to my attorney. As per my request he also provided all of the same on a CD. I thought it would be easier to search for things if I had it in electronic form. What did I intend to search for? Nothing in particular was the answer. It was just me being anal.

When I left their office I headed home. Noelle knew of my appointment and insisted that I take the day off. I was going to return to work but now I saw the wisdom in her concern. I thought that I could complete an analysis of our finances when I returned, but I couldn't concentrate on that now. The news had not been what I expected. I had calmed down a bit, but I was till trying to bring up some element of disbelief, trying to find something to contradict the facts of what I was told.

Was this affair really over? Did it matter? She was engaged in some other scheme. Was that over too? The evidence against her was irrefutable. But perhaps, just perhaps, she had made a terrible mistake, realized it, and planned to make amends. There was a slim hope of that.

Could I accept her if she came clean? Who was I kidding? There was no chance of that happening. She had lied already. She had perpetrated a fraud by getting me financially obligated for her. How long had she been planning this? Months? Years? How do I ignore that?

What If I overlooked her affair and she said nothing yet remained faithful? What would I do then? Could I accept that option and just pretend that nothing happened? Could I be married to her and keep the secret of her betrayal? Could I trust her under those circumstances or would I have to sleep with one eye open for the rest of my life?

Pacing through the apartment I knew we not going to last. I was close to terminating our marriage but her latest actions complicated matters. Something about her behavior was not making sense. What changed? What motivated her to stop? Perhaps if I had an answer to that question it would allow me to make a decision I could live with. I knew I was missing an important piece of information. What was Paige up to?

If they stopped a couple of few weeks ago I certainly wasn't the beneficiary of her return to monogamy. I might have felt better if she had broken it off immediately after I questioned her. She didn't seem any more affectionate with me. Ironically, in some respects she showed me greater attention while they were together.

I noted again that we had been speaking more to one another these last couple of weeks but it was like having a conversation with a long-time acquaintance. Recently she seemed particularly jumpy. When I asked she claimed to be worried about an upcoming case review. Then she developed a rash which I attributed to her nerves. She'd had the same problem over a year ago before taking her grad admissions exams.

Whatever the reason for Paige ending the affair, I sensed it did not directly involve her feelings for me. Forget guilt as a motivator. Fear of discovery perhaps? Loss of my financial support was more likely. But if that were the case then why take up with him in the first place?

That afternoon I decided to take an inventory of all of our possessions in the apartment. Having a list with accompanying photographic support would be important in the eventual division of property. But my mind proved not to be on that task either, so instead I took a walk.

I wandered a mile away towards the Benjamin Franklin parkway, that broad vista that ended at the Art Museum. It was at that Parthenon that Sylvester Stallone filmed Rocky standing triumphantly atop its wide steps. It was also on that site that I proposed to Paige one Saturday morning, and where we took our wedding pictures many months later.

If our marriage were to end, I would plan that end here, on these steps where it began. Under a grey November sky I thought back to how we met.

Chapter 6: How we met

Up until my senior year of college I had the reputation on campus as Mr. Serious. That nickname was principally the result of several factors: I was an accounting major, I spent most of my waking hours either studying or working, and I didn't drink. Given that many business students work, it was probably the non-drinking part of my profile that mainly acted to limit my social life.

I should state that I wasn't a monk. I dated, although infrequently. I just never launched any serious romantic relationships, although I did establish a few strong and lasting friendships with my dates.

I'm a good listener, which makes me have 'friend' potential. Women liked to tell me their problems. Unlike a lot of guys, I didn't immediately offer suggestions or recommendations. Most guys have this desire to 'fix' things. I learned early on from living with my cousins that women like to vent. When they tell you of a problem they have they're not necessarily looking for solution, they're more interested in the telling. So I would listen carefully and only respond when they asked for my specific advice.

My dilemma was that at twenty I had never had a romantic relationship last longer than a few months and being labeled a woman's friend wasn't leading in that direction. With my job and course load the chances for romance were almost nonexistent. So I was on the lookout for whatever opportunities there were to meet someone special.