Separate Vacations: Parallel Lives

"Things went downhill from there. He was on the edge of bankruptcy when he left, taking a position with another chain, and moving to the West Coast. The divorce papers came the week after. He went after my money, but Matt was in top form, and he actually owed me money when it was over. Of course I'll never see it, but it was a moral victory."

I thought about that. Lew's former partner had gone west. So had Stephen. The first lover Bill Maitland's wife had had departed to Chicago, practically run out of town. Now it was her new ex. Was the entire population of the western half of the country cheating assholes?

She then went on to tell me he had a small dick and didn't know how to use it. I couldn't help getting a dig in. "You should have had him call Stephen, and gotten some pointers."

"You're an asshole, you know that?"

"That's a popular opinion among the women I've been intimate with lately. Maybe there's something to it."

I don't think that was the reaction she expected, but she grinned. "Good to see it isn't just me."

She changed the subject. "Can you believe Kaitlyn has a boyfriend? The little shit was trying to get her to play spin the bottle. I had a long talk with her."

"So did I, plus, I've been taking them to the dojo with me, got them enrolled in a kid's class. That, and I may or may not have shown them some things that would deter even the most ardent of boys."

She frowned. "How come I didn't know about this?"

"Because they asked me not to tell you, and I can keep a confidence. I wouldn't keep anything important from you, but girls will be girls, you know?"

"I know. Soon they'll be dating, going off to college, and leaving us in the dust."

"It's the cycle of life, Tiff. All we can do is make them as ready as we can. That's always been our job. We love them, guide them, then we trust them, and hope our teachings stick."

"Damn, when did you get so insightful? Success seems to have made you smarter."

"Not necessarily. That was a line from one of my stories, but I was thinking about them when I wrote."

She couldn't get the bitterness out of her voice. "Still chasing that dream? How many rejection slips are you up to now?"

That stung. "I stopped counting right after we split. It doesn't stop me. Sooner of later, I'll figure it out."

She knew she had stepped on my toes and backed off. "So, where are we? Will we see each other again?'

I could see the shock on her face when I answered. "I don't thinks so, Tiff. I couldn't afford it, emotionally."

"But why? Tell me you didn't enjoy last night. Tell me you're not that much of a coward that you can't at least try. What we had was special. It's still special. Why can't we rebuild?"

"Tell me something, Tiff. Say we do remarry. Will we be as one? Will we have joint checking and savings accounts, not sign any prenuptials, drive each other's vehicles? Will you still have running shoes under the bed?"

That one hurt, and she unleashed. "Asshole! You can't let me be my own person, can you? You're always going to want to control me aren't you?"

"Yes and no. It's not about the money, it's never been about the money and you know it. It's about being equal partners, able to share everything. You're never going to be able to do that, and you know it. What does your therapist say about all this, or have you even told her? Yes, I assume it's a woman. You would never share yourself with me, so I can't see you doing it with some strange man."

She refused to argue. "So this is it, then?"

I felt like the whole world was on my shoulders and it was more weight than I could bear. "Yes. This is it. I won't see you again, Tiff. I just can't go back to the way it was, and you're never going to change. So let's just go back to living parallel lives, and share our beautiful children. It's all I can offer you."

She never said another word, dressing in silence and slamming the door as she left. I sat at the dining room table, slow, fat tears hitting the formica of my retro dining table, and wondering if I really was an idiot.

We got the contract, and another woman took point. She even hit on me. I almost fucked her, knowing it would get back to Tiff but in the end I didn't, because I just didn't want to sink to that level.

.....................

I floated along for a few months before another random occurrence changed my life. We were at O'Brien's again, celebrating Lew's recovery from his plane crash and reuniting with his wife. At least she got it and figured out a way to get them back together. Mona was a really attractive woman, with an ass that was every bit Tiffany's equal. Maitland was there, with the elusive Frenchwoman everyone heard rumors about, along with Vik Fleming, his wife, who I'd dubbed This Year's Model, knowing it was going to crash and burn before the year was out, and Hank Clark. His wife oozed more sexuality at fifty than any two twenty five year olds you could find, and I had thought my relationship troubles were nothing compared to the shit she'd put him through. They always managed, just barely, to stay together, and the fact that Henry almost left her for a woman in her thirties gave her the wakeup call she needed, and she stuck to him like glue.

We were talking about things in general, we were all in a good mood, the taunts and teasing gentle but pointed, when Maitland asked if I'd written anything lately. I'd done a good bit after the night I spent with Tiff, but nothing coherent enough to consider polishing it.

"Yes, but none of it very good."

Mona, up until that time had been kind of quiet, still trying to make her way back. Now she spoke up. "You know, I've read a few of the short stories you've done in different magazines. I looked you up when Lew mentioned you were friends."

"What did you think?"

She looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"Look, if we're going to be friends, I need you to be honest with me. If I ask you a question, don't ever try to filter the answer. If I didn't want the truth, I wouldn't ask."

"All right, but you asked for it. You write like a pussy, Bruce. The stuff you do is fine for twelve year old girls and octogenarians, but everyone else almost gags on it. There's no conflict, everything is always happy happy. People don't want that. They want grit, real conflict and resolution, emotion. If you can't deliver that, you're doomed. I'm sorry, you seem like a nice guy."

Well, I asked for it. Didn't make it any less painful, though. "Well, that would explain all the rejections"

Vik had listened, grinning. "Thank you, Mona. All the rest of us made it a point to never discuss his writing. The thing is, Bruce, you have it in you to write like she says. Some of your ad copy is just brilliant, five second bites of real life. And If you'll take a suggestion, I have one."

"I'm all ears."

"To start with, you're going about this all wrong. You keep forgetting you have money now. First, you need to write something worth a damn. Ater that, you need a team. Think Nicolas Sparks just sat around and waited for the money to roll in? Fuck no, he didn't. He got a publisher that believed in him enough to get him in the public eye, an agent that kept his face current. I happen to know a very good ad agency that would probably give you a good deal."

Lew chimed in. "Don't forget a good lawyer. That's an absolute must. I'll have you know I've done intellectual rights work ten times, and won eight cases when they went to court. I know who to talk to and who to avoid."

"And fuck a publisher. Do it yourself, so you have complete control and won't have to pay anybody anything." This was from Hank, a man always thinking about the money.

Mona chimed back in, glowing in the sixth month of her pregnancy. "I can tell you from my charity work, a good publicist is a must. I'm obviously not working right now, so I can handle most of it, and I have a lot of resources to draw from."

Maitland grinned. "Well, there you go. A lawyer, a publicist, and an ad agency. Find yourself a sharp agent, a good editor, write something decent, and you're on your way."

Well, fuck me blind. Why hadn't I thought about that?

I did think about if for three weeks, then hit on the perfect story. A romance of sorts, it was basically the true story of Lew and Mona, with a little poetic license on a few facts. The editor I'd hired, a chain smoking woman in her late fifties, told me it had a lot of promise, and then destroyed it. I felt like setting what was left of it on fire when she finished. She grinned at my expression. "Buck up, boy. If it was easy, everybody would be a best selling writer. And it is quite good. I remember the news account for the story this is based on. It was interesting then, and you can make it a lot hotter, if you just try. Now, this is..."

I tuned her out for a minute. Fuck! I hadn't thought for a second about how Lew and Mona would react. I needed to fix that, because if they said no, it was over. I'd never offend my friends like that.

I approached Mona first, giving her the revised story. It was a short read, about a hundred and twenty pages, but I felt like I'd said everything needed so I stopped. Janice, my editor, agreed. "Nothing is as bad as having a first time writer try to stretch a novella into a full novel. It ends up just empty words and confuses the reader. You have it exactly right like it is now, so don't fuck with it."

She didn't call me for four days and I walked around as nervous as a cat at a dog show. Finally, on a Thursday afternoon, Mona called. "Our house, seven."

That was the whole conversation. It took about an hour to screw up the nerve to show. Mona met me at the door, wrapping me in a hug that was so tight I couldn't breathe. "Thank you," she said. "It was beautiful. If I hadn't lived it, it probably wouldn't have played so hard with my emotions, but you got it right."

Lew just grinned and shook my hand. "Well done, Bruce. You know everyone locally is going to know it's about us, but I don't give a fuck. Maybe it will give couples hope that anything can be overcome if they want it bad enough."

Then they stopped smiling. "There are few things we want to tell you about that period in our lives that no one else knows. We give you permission to use it, if you're respectful. All right?"

I agreed of course, and the next day Mona met me for a three hour lunch, telling the unvarnished truth from her side. I felt terrible for her, near tears several times as she spoke. She took quite a few breaks, to get her emotions under control.

It wasn't quite as bad with Lew, because I had lived part of it with him, but it was still pretty rough. I knew he was in pain, but not that much pain. I thought about it for two weeks, threw everything I had away and rewrote the whole thing. It was novel lenght now, necessary to work in the new information. I took it to my editor and she called me to come back in three days later.

At first, Janice didn't say anything. I could almost swear her eyes were moist there for a second. She sighed and sat back in her chair.

"This one is good, Bruce. Very good. We need to tweak it, of course, but not much. It will probably never be a best seller, but it should have legs, especially if we advertise."

Well, I certainly had that covered. Vik started a virtual campaign on the internet and we splurged with the advertising on Amazon. Hank came up with a novel concept, and soon the cover of Bittersweet Farewell was on three hundred billboards across the Southeast.

Sales started slowly, but gained steadily until we were doing about three hundred Kindle downloads, four hundred ebooks, and two hundred hardbacks a day. There were nine hundred fifty reviews in the first month, none lower than four stars. I did local talk shows in Atlanta, Columbia, Charlotte, Birmingham, Raleigh, Charlottesville, Nashville, almost every major city in the Southeastern region, plus Dallas, Oklahoma City, and a few more Western towns. I deliberately did none in Florida, Savannah, or any other border city. Mona, after hearing my wishes, made sure of that. All the personal information about me on the net or my book jacket just said I lived in Florida. It may have hurt sales, but I didn't want Tiff to know. It almost got out of hand when Oprah made it one of her selections, and had Mona and Lew on the show. They went in my place, telling her I was terribly shy and wasn't comfortable in the spotlight. She laughed. "If his next is as good as this, he may have to get over it."

They came off as they were in real life. Personable, attractive, and obviously very much in love. The book skyrocketed, and even cracked the bottom of the New York bestsellers list, for two weeks.

I ran into Tiffany at lunch one day. She was alone, I was alone, and instead of letting it get awkward, I grabbed her hand and told the hostess it was for two. She let me pull her along, and as we sat, we talked. Really talked, like adults.

Of course, we stayed on safe subjects. Most of the talk was about the girls.

"I can't believe how grownup they look! Did you know Kaitlyn has her peroid now? Our little girl is a woman now, Bruce."

"I know, I had to buy her pads the other day."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. It's just life, you know? You used to call me all the time asking me to get them for you."

She smiled a little, remembering. "Yes you did. You were a pretty good husband, especially about things like that."

I dodged that by asking her if she was working on husband number three. She frowned. "No, I date some, and let's be real here, it's basically to get laid, and I haven't found anyone who matches my needs. How about you? Ready to jump into domestic bliss once again?"

I grinned. "Nope. Been there, done that, won't live through it again. I've only loved one woman, Tiff, and it was you. However, I am seeing someone, and we're together a lot. Don't see it long term, but I'm having a lot of fun while it's happening."

She frowned. Seriously? She just admitted she dated guys just to get fucked, but frowns when I'm telling her I'm having fun? Women.

"Be careful Bruce. After all, you have a lot to lose."

It was early 2011, and the recession was just about as bad as it was going to get. My financial adviser had a long talk with Lew, me, and a few others, and laid it out for us about eighteen months earlier. "I had you guys in the housing boom, but I moved you out of it when the sand castles started crumbling. It's going to get worse. Much worse, before it's over. There will be some bargains out there soon, and I want to position you guys to take advantage of it. That being said, I'm liquidating everything while prices are still up. We can leave the money where it's at, ready to reinvest, and not pay capital gains on it. Do you trust me?"

We did, and followed his advice to the letter. I'd taken a four hundred thousand dollar disbursement, to jump start my writing, and had already paid everything back, with a two hundred thousand dollar profit, that was growing daily. I would do okay.

I looked closely at Tiff. We were both 37 now, and I could see a few tiny wrinkles around her eyes. She looked tired. "How's business?"

"Horrible. Our clients were mostly above the fray, so it didn't hurt them for a while. It's finally trickled up, and they're being very cautious. New projects are getting harder to find and finance. No bank on the planet wants to be anywhere near a land deal right now, not with the government breathing down their necks. I've got something really good going right now, the land will never be cheaper, contractors and suppliers are begging for jobs so labor and costs will be low. The local government and the state is willing to give us all kinds of tax breaks, and it would generate about fifty permanent full and part time jobs plus three or four hundred long term construction jobs, so it's a win-win for everyone. If I could find some private investors I could get it off the ground, but the usual sources have dried up."

"Are you all right?"

"I'm making about half what I made in the past, but I'm all right. How about you?"

"Oddly, business is up. The smart ones know the more they advertise, the more likely they are to sell. A lot, though, have cut back, and a few of our oldest clients will be out of business in less than two years if things don't change."

She kissed me on the cheek, thanked me for lunch, and I watched her sway down the street, her ass doing interesting things in that tight skirt.

I thought a lot about what she said, and the next morning I called Fred, and told him about our conversation. He seemed really interested, and said he would check it out.

Two days later Lew, Fred, me, and two more guys I didn't know had a business lunch.

Fred started it off. "It's a good deal. We probably won't do more than break even the first couple of years, but when things get better it'll be a gold mine. There are four hundred and twenty possible homesites, and the cheapest house should be in the five hundred thousand range. I'm talking at least three separate communities, with one for retirees, all gated and guarded. We only need to sell seventy five lots to break even on the land side, and the golf course is being designed by a big name, so the golf fees should take care of the course.

Everything is a risk of course, but the rewards could be tremendous. I'm willing to invest if you guys are."

He waited until the others left, and talked to me and Lew about what he thought would be another good investment. "I'm going to buy as many bank shares as I can afford."

Lew frowned. "You think that's a good idea? Banks are losing money by the truckload. The only one who isn't in financial trouble is the Hunt Bank, and that's only because it's privately owned, and word is they're starting to hurt too."

"You ever listen to the politicians? They are not going to let the big banks go down. They'll pump whatever it takes into them to keep them going, and when the economy rebounds we'll be sitting on a gold mine."

He looked around, and finally settled on Bank Of America. He told us he thought it had hit rock botton, and had nowhere to go but up. We bought in at six seventy a share, and three and a half years later it was trading at fifty four. I bought a hundred thousand shares, Lew bought fifty, and Fred went all in, buying a million. The profits bought Kaitlyn and Kristen new cars for their birthdays when the time came, and a big pontoon boat for me. It was anchored at the marina on the private lake of the housing community and country club we had invested in. We all had nice corner lots in the best community. I was planning to build my new home there.

.........

The phone call was not unexpected. "Is this your doing?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't play me, Bruce. Did the money come from you?"

"It was a good deal. I've always been impressed with your business sense, Tiff. Why shouldn't we make a little off this? It's just business. And my part wasn't that much."

That much was true, except she didn't know about the blind trust Lew had created, owned by Kaitlyn and Kristen, with me, Lew, and Fred as guardians, that had invested 500,000. It also bought both girls fify thousand shares of Bank Of America. If things went well, they would be set for life.

She sputtered for a minute before I cut her off. "Don't be a fool and look a gift horse in the mouth. Take the money and run, you put a lot of work into this."

Business sense won over personal outrage, and the deal came together. Her bosses were so impressed they bought her a new car as a thank you. A BMW Boxer. I'd see her time to time, zipping down the main drag. I'd always smile when I did.

..................

I was excited, grinning at what I was planning. The new woman in my life was also a novelist, a much more successful one, and we got along really well. We were more than fuck buddies, but not much more. She was 45, eight years older, but looked my age. And she was an absolute monster in bed. I thought Tiff and Deanna could get wild, but it was like comparing kittens to a Bengal tiger. She had skills I'd never encountered, and she taught me a lot about tantric sex, to the point I could maintain an erection for an outrageous amount of time. It just kept getting better and better.