The wrench slipped from my greasy fingers as my 16-year-old daughter's voice cut through the evening air like a rusty blade. He's pathetic, Mom. Just leave him already. Curtis actually takes you places that matter. I was under the hood of my beat-up Dodge in our driveway, the streetlights casting long shadows across the cracked asphalt.
The engine had been making that grinding noise again, the kind that tells you your vehicle is slowly dying, just like everything else in your life. My wife Amber's laugh drifted through the screen door, sharp and cold. Tess, keep your voice down. He might hear you. So, what if he does?
Everyone already knows about Curtis anyway. Mrs. Henderson next door asked me yesterday if you were getting divorced yet. I wiped my hands on an old rag, my jaw clenching. 20 years of marriage and this is how I find out my wife's affair has become neighborhood entertainment.
I wasn't even surprised. The late-night phone calls, the new clothes, the sudden interest in yoga classes that required full makeup, it all made sense now. Headlights swept across our lawn as a silver BMW pulled into my driveway like it owned the place. Curtis Brennan stepped out, adjusting his expensive suit jacket. He walked right up to me, not even bothering with pleasantries.
Your wife's coming with me tonight, Nick. It's not really up for discussion anymore. Excuse me? I said. Curtis smiled, the kind of smile that probably worked great at his car dealership when he was selling overpriced sedans to desperate families.
Amber and I have been seeing each other for months. She's ready to move on, and frankly, so should you. The screen door creaked open and Amber stepped onto the porch in the black dress I'd bought her for our anniversary last year, the one she claimed made her look fat. Curtis, I told you I'd meet you at the restaurant, she said, her tone more annoyed than angry. I thought we should be honest, Curtis replied.
Nick deserves to know where things stand. Get off my property, I said quietly. Isabelle Savens. Curtis actually laughed. Come on, Nick.
Let's be adults about this. You can't seriously think you can compete with what I offer her. Something inside me snapped like a rubber band stretched too far. I walked into the house past Amber who was suddenly looking nervous and past Tess who was recording everything on her phone. I went straight to the bedroom closet lock box on the top shelf.
The.357 Magnum had been my father's. A tool isn't a toy, Nick, he'd told me when I was 12. You only pull it out when you're prepared for everything to change. Everything was already changing. I walked back outside, the weight of the revolver solid in my hand.
Curtis was leaning against his BMW checking his Rolex. You have exactly 2 seconds to get in your car and drive away, I said raising the gun. Curtis's face went white. Jesus Christ, Nick. Put that thing down.
Amber, call the police. I aimed at the ground between us and pulled the trigger. The shot cracked through the neighborhood like thunder. Curtis stumbled backward and I noticed a dark stain spreading across the front of his expensive pants. He'd wet himself.
Next time I won't aim low, I said. Curtis scrambled into his BMW, his hands shaking so badly he could barely get the key in the ignition. Amber ran after him. Her heels clicking on the asphalt. She threw a desperate look back at me then made her choice and got in the passenger seat.
I watched them drive away, their tail lights disappearing around the corner. Then I turned to Tess who was still filming from the porch. If either of you comes back here, I called loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear, I'll be waiting. Inside, the smell of gunpowder hung in the air mixing with Amber's lingering perfume. The police sergeant who showed up was Danny Morrison, a guy I'd gone to high school with.
He took one look at the bullet hole in the asphalt, Curtis's abandoned dignity, and me sitting calmly on the steps. "Warning shot? " he asked. "Warning shot. " I confirmed. "Anybody hurt? " "Just some pride in a pair of pants. " Danny wrote it up as a domestic disturbance with no charges filed, since I'd fired into the ground on my own property and no one had been threatened with bodily harm. "Nick. " Danny said as he was leaving, "Maybe next time try a conversation first. " I did.
It lasted about 30 seconds. The first few days passed in a blur of bitter coffee and bitter decisions. I gave away most of Amber's clothes to Goodwill and threw the rest into Riverside Pond. Her makeup collection went straight into the trash. On Thursday, three motorcycles roared into my driveway.
The lead rider pulled off his helmet, revealing a familiar face covered in tattoos, Uncle Nick. My 25-year-old nephew Tyler grinned, showing off a gold tooth. "Heard you had some excitement. " Tyler ran with a motorcycle club called the Iron Ravens. "What do you want, Tyler? " "Curtis Brennan hired us to come have a talk with you. Paid us 500 bucks to explain how things are going to be. " Tyler reached into his jacket and pulled out a roll of bills.
"See, Curtis didn't know you were family when he hired us. And family trumps cash every time. We're returning his money with interest. Told him any man who makes another man piss himself in his own driveway deserves respect. " "So what's the plan, Uncle Nick? " Tyler asked. "You want us to pay Curtis a visit? " "Not yet. " I said, "but stick around town.
I might need some witnesses. " That weekend, I spotted Curtis's BMW parked outside room 12 at the Riverside Motel, a dive that rented rooms by the hour, right next to Amber's Honda. I called Tyler and 20 minutes later, we were set up across the street like a dysfunctional surveillance team. Tyler's crew brought high-tech video gear streaming the feed directly online in real time. At 3:47 p.m., Curtis emerged from the room followed by Amber. They were laughing, completely oblivious.