Valentine, Be Mine Ch. 01

Then Dad discovered us that awful afternoon and blew a gasket. When I had said he threw 'Evie' out of his house, it had been literal as well as figurative. It hurt when I landed in a heap on the yard outside the kitchen door. At least he hadn't killed Janie and Mama on the spot. I ran and hid; afraid he would come after me instead. Even after the whole thing died down, he never looked at me in the same light again. I think he believed I should have done something to resist it, like any 'real man'. That was the beginning of the invisible barrier that arose between us. I guess to protect myself from the trauma of that memory, my conscious mind erected a wall around it. I hadn't remembered it at all until Joanna called me that name.

Apparently, she knew. What else did she know? I glanced in the rear view mirror. A heavily made up pair of feminine eyes returned my gaze. My hair was more teased and tousled than usual, but that had been the "look" I was going for tonight. A second glance downward confirmed the impression of a busty, sexy, provocatively-clad, sweet young thing. Nothing appeared to be amiss; although the new outfit was sexier, more provocative than usual, I had been 'pushing the edge' lately, so this really wasn't any radical departure. There was something tugging at the edge of my mind, something whispering everything was not as it should be. Try as I might, I couldn't make the thought come. I knew there was an answer, and had a pretty good idea where to find it. Suddenly, grabbing her purse and keys was looking like a stroke of genius.

I used my wife's keycard to enter the parking structure, then the professional building itself. I glanced at my wristwatch and smiled. Timing was everything. The second shift security guard was a creature of habit. He would have had his regular-as-clockwork lunch of a liverwurst and onion hoagie about an hour and a half before. At that moment, Marty would be in the Men's room taking a much-needed dump – and probably passing some industrial-strength gas. There would be no one in front of the monitors to see my image, captured by the security cameras, slipping in through the parking lot entrance. No one would review the video tapes unless a break-in was detected. I intended to make certain that didn't happen.

I made my way up the back stairs to the third floor of the five-story structure, then used Joanna's keys to enter her office. It didn't take long to find what I was looking for. For future reference – and to protect herself from later litigation – my wife recorded every client session on digital video disk. The camera and microphones were cleverly concealed; I had never spotted them while in her office. Yet, I knew they were there. Joanna often brought her work home with her. As fascinated as I was with all things pertaining to this woman I loved, I had surreptitiously observed her from time to time, reviewing one case or another in our study. She would invariably be viewing such a disk on her notebook computer, then typing notes into the word-processing program. I had given the notebook to her the previous Christmas, even customizing it myself with some specialty software, including the DVD player/recorder program. I don't think she realized I knew about her recordings. That would work in my favor; hopefully, at least until she returned to work Monday.

I found the disk library locked in the closet. I grabbed all the disks labeled "R. Valentine." Each was further notated with the session date. By luck, her notebook computer was there also. I guessed she had planned on a different kind of 'homework' this weekend. Bad luck for her, good for me; I snatched up the notebook as well. I would need it to view the disks. I was just about to leave when I noticed a stack of five disks apart from the rest. Handwritten labels on each jewel box identified them as "Jake". Each had a numeric sequencer, one through five. My blood turned to ice. I suppose it was possible, but I didn't think it likely he was a patient. It was hateful enough the bitch had had her stud in our marital bed. She had also had the nerve to record their trysts for her later viewing pleasure?

Now I had an unwieldy stack in my arms, with the notebook computer on the bottom. I turned frantically, left and right, searching for something to put it all in. She had a leather carrying case for the notebook; where was it? At that moment, the forces of gravity, inertia, and lateral momentum intersected – and Mr. Murphy's infamous law came into play. I watched in almost detached fascination as the stack of DVD jewel boxes tumbled through the air and clattered to the carpet. Thank God I had managed to hang on to the notebook! I shuddered as I envisioned that television commercial, where the notebook computer crashes to the ground and shatters into a hundred pieces.

I thanked the Fates for small miracles, placed the computer on the desk, and stooped down to gather up the spilled disks. In doing so, I spied the carrying case; sitting upright on the floor behind Joanna's desk, tucked neatly between the wastebasket and credenza. Surely, Goodness and Mercy would be with me all the days of my life. I retrieved the case, inserted the notebook, then crammed the disks wherever they would fit; either on top or in the side pocket.

After leaving Joanna's office, my first stop was the nearest ATM machine. Our joint account had been set up to allow us individual access to funds; my cash withdrawal would not count against her daily limit, and vice versa. Since I had grabbed her purse, I had two cards, hers and mine, and withdrew the limit on each. Sure, I knew her PIN. After all, we were happily married; we didn't keep secrets from one another, did we?

I rented a room in one of those nondescript Valley motels not far from work. Neither Triple-A nor Michelin would have given it a first glance, much less a second. The 'house rules' were clearly posted on the wall inside the door; no pets, weapons, drugs, or prostitution. I considered those prohibitions in the context of the black kitten that had been crouched in front of the room next door, feeding from its bowl. How stringently did they enforce their other bans? That was probably a function of how long you stayed – and paid your bill on time.

I could have picked someplace ritzier, but I didn't want to piss away my money on extravagances just yet. I might need every penny later. This place had weekly rates, took cash up front and didn't ask questions. It was unlikely Joanna would be able to track me here any time soon, should she even have a mind to. With 'Jake' in the picture, that was unlikely as well. She could find me at work easily enough. I would have to find some way to deal with that the following week.

Sometimes technology can be frightening; at other times, a Godsend. I didn't know Joanna's laptop password and didn't need to. I had set the Administrator's password myself, so I signed on to that account. Using her cellular modem, I connected to the Internet and did a little electronic 'banking'. I could have cleaned out our joint checking and savings accounts completely and God Himself would have called it just. Even after what I had witnessed, I wasn't ready to be that spiteful towards the woman I had loved so deeply.

Thank God I had had to set up that separate account to establish the 'paper trail' so necessary to protect my spouse's professional standing. I was thankful once again I had, as an extra layer of disconnect, opened the account in a different bank. Both banks' Internet portals used cutting-edge software, allowing transactions with Interbank, as well as account numbers. I transferred the bulk of our two shared accounts into my solo account, leaving her enough for immediate expenses. Legal? Yes. Ethical? Moral? All I had to do was remember Jake's massive meat plowing in and out of her pussy and the look of bliss on Joanna's face. With her six-figure income, sizable investment portfolio and A-plus credit rating, no one would have to hold a bake sale for my wayward wife any time soon.

As for myself, I had no specific plan yet. I was still too numb to think cogently. Everything I had done since walking out of our bedroom had been a product of instinct and adrenaline. For the first time since meeting my wife, I had to force myself to think in terms of protecting myself. Absent a loving, caring relationship, what would she do? Perhaps she would do nothing at all. She had her career, money, and lover. As my friends had pointed out so long ago, what did she need me for? Apparently, amusement. She had toyed with me, made me believe she loved me, for whatever reason. Now she was making it clear she could do quite nicely without me.

Then again, she may not have had her fill of tormenting me yet. A woman that prominent, that influential, could do almost anything. I had the disks. Surely the 'Jake' disks would contain the evidence I needed of her infidelity? As for the others, I hoped they contained answers, too; answers to nagging questions I knew were there, but couldn't formulate in my head. If Joanna wanted to be nasty, she might have me arrested for breaking into her office. If she did that, she would have to identify what was missing, wouldn't she? I'm sure she would realize that, too – and that the contents of the disks would invariably come out, even if she tried to invoke doctor-client privilege. I didn't think she would risk it, but if it came down to covering her cheating ass in a divorce proceeding….

One way or another, I would need an attorney. I couldn't see a way this wouldn't wind up in court, be it civil or criminal. Joanna had the clout to retain the very best. I would have to do the same – again, to the best of my limited ability. My recent cash infusion would help; I could at least front a 'retainer fee'. Then, if my attorney would take my case on a contingency basis….

The issue of selecting an attorney is actually simple. Of those you know, or at least know of, who would you least want to face in court? Hire him first, before the other side does. When put in those terms, the choice was easy. In this case, he was a she – and I had met her before I met Joanna. I put in the call. Not surprisingly, the office was closed for the weekend. I left a message, hoping they would contact me Monday. I also hoped that wouldn't be too late.