"Dirty Laundry Live! " Tyler announced to his followers. "Broadcasting from scenic Riverside Motel, where love goes to die. " The viewer count skyrocketed from 50 to hundreds in minutes. The comment section exploded. They kissed goodbye like teenagers before driving off, completely unaware that half the town was watching them. "Stream's over," Tyler announced, "but it's saved to 15 different platforms. " That night, my phone rang off the hook.
The last call came at midnight from Amber, who screamed into the receiver, "How could you do something so cruel? Curtis is furious. His wife saw the video. " "Curtis has a wife? " I asked. "Guess you're not as special as you thought. " I hung up and poured myself a whiskey. Monday morning, Curtis sent me a text from an unknown number.
"You think you're smart. We'll see about that. " He had posted a long story on Facebook calling me an unstable, dangerous individual who had threatened to eliminate him and his girlfriend. I finished my coffee and drove my old Dodge over to Brennan Motors, Curtis's used car lot on the south side of town. The lot was full of overpriced vehicles with yellow price tags. Curtis was in his glass office gesturing wildly on the phone.
When he spotted me parking right outside, his face drained of color. I walked into his office, the bell above the door chiming softly. Curtis stood behind his desk like it was a fortress. "You can't be here," he stammered. "I'll call the police. " "This is a public business," I replied sitting down across from him.
I'm a potential customer looking for something reliable. We don't have anything in your price range, Curtis snapped. Look, Nick, Amber and I are in love, real love. Real love? I chuckled.
Is that what you call an afternoon motel and lying to your wife? You had no right to film us. I stood up slowly and walked over to the window, looking out at his prized 1969 red Camaro SS. I'm not going to touch your car, Curtis. I'm not going to threaten you.
I'm just going to make sure everyone in this town knows exactly what kind of man you are. And Curtis, you might want to invest in some adult diapers. His face turned ghostly pale as the memory of our driveway encounter played behind his eyes. I walked out to my truck, leaving him trembling in his office. That afternoon, I paid a visit to Amber's law firm, Hartwell and Associates.
The receptionist looked up nervously as I walked in. A few minutes later, managing partner Richard Hartwell walked me into his corner office. I pulled out my phone and played the motel video for him. I thought you should know that one of your employees is conducting personal business during work hours. Last Friday, 2:30 in the afternoon, she was supposed to be in depositions.
Then I showed him screenshots of text messages between Amber and Curtis planning their meetings during office hours. Hartwell pressed a button on his desk phone. Jessica, please ask Amber to come to my office immediately. Five minutes later, Amber walked in looking sharp in her navy blue suit. When she saw me, she stopped dead in her tracks.
Hartwell showed her the evidence. Richard, I can explain, Amber started. Clear out your office, Hartwell interrupted, his voice ice cold. Security will escort you out. Your termination is effective immediately.
Amber glared at me with pure hatred. This is all your fault. No. I said quietly. This is all your choice.
Two security guards walked her out while half the firm watched in total fascination. Two weeks later, I hired Ray Sullivan, a former cop turned private investigator. I gave him a retainer to dig up everything on Curtis Brennan. Ray delivered his report three days later revealing that Curtis was a fraud. His car lot was mortgaged to the hilt.
He owed back taxes and he routinely forged inspection certificates. He had four ex-wives, a gambling addiction, and was currently sleeping with two other women besides Amber. He's one bad month away from losing everything, Ray told me. And his oldest daughter's lavish wedding is next month. Curtis is supposed to walk her down the aisle.
The perfect opportunity to drop the hammer came at my daughter's high school talent show. I was standing in the lobby during intermission when I saw Amber and Curtis near the refreshment table. Amber was wearing an expensive new dress she couldn't afford and Curtis had his hand on her waist. A small crowd of parents gathered around us sensing the drama. This is inappropriate, Nick.
Amber hissed. This is Tess's night. You're right. I said loudly enough for everyone to hear. This is Tess's night.
So maybe you should explain why you missed her last three events because you were too busy screwing your boyfriend. The lobby went dead silent. Curtis stepped forward. You don't know what you're talking about. Really?
I pulled out my phone displaying Ray's financial and surveillance records. Let's talk about how Curtis has been lying to you about being separated. Let's talk about the two other women he's seeing right now while he sleeps with you. Should I share the receipts with everyone? Curtis's face turned white.
He grabbed Amber's arm and mumbled, We're leaving. Good idea. I called after them. Give my regards to Mrs. Brennan.
The real Mrs. Brennan. After the show, Tess found me by my truck. Her voice was quiet. Why did you do that?
Because they needed to hear the truth, I said. Tess stared at the ground for a long moment. Curtis has been lying to Mom about a lot of things. Can I come home? I felt the tight knot in my chest finally loosen.
Of course you can. It's your home. She got into the truck, and we drove back to our house together. Sitting