Reluctant Cuckold (38 page)

Mike added, “Well, sometimes it’s less about getting your actual job done than managing others and securing the buy-in.”

On our second drink, Mike gave me his wink.

Things were going smoothly, conversation was flowing, and I really didn’t want to leave the scene. Then as Ashley turned for a moment, he nudged me, like, ‘Now’s the time.’

I nodded back OK.

I pulled out my phone and pretended to look at a message. “Oh Jeez,” I said.

“What’s wrong?” Ashley asked.

“The San Francisco office,” I replied. “I’m terribly sorry. This will only take a few minutes, but I need to get back to them.”

“That’s the problem with time zones,” Ashley said. “They wouldn’t be hitting you up if it was 9 p.m. their time.”

“Yeah, I know, I’m sorry. Would you excuse me for a moment?”

“Of course,” Mike said, “totally understand. We’ll be here. And maybe Ashley will tell me some good Dave stories.”

“Uh-oh,” I joked, “be right back.”

On the street outside, I suddenly felt weak in the knees.
What the fuck am I doing?
I thought. I had just left Mike alone with my wife. Perhaps Mike could get a read on her and encourage her to talk more openly, but anything was possible. He had dressed up and was acting suave—quite different than before.

Suppose Ashley was attracted to him?

And how much did I really know about Mike? Sure, he had treated me like a friend, but he was a man as well. And here I was, giving him unfettered access—albeit brief—to my wife.

I tried to calm myself down. Ashley was out by herself all the time. She must always be getting hit on. As Mike had said, ‘She has opportunities to stray every time she walks out the apartment door.’”

I found an angle from the window where I could see them talking by the bar. I wondered what Mike and Ashley were laughing about. Then I started thinking. A random guy hitting on her would see her wedding ring, assume his odds were low, and maybe not waste his time. But Mike knew what she had done, was capable of—he had insight and information. Sure, work people had those as well, but “the rumor” for Ashley was now a deterrent.

Was Mike using his time alone with her to really get a read on her, or might he be attempting to hit on her himself?

What the fuck am I doing out here?

This whole plan had been harried and last-minute. I hadn’t any real time to think it through. On the other hand, Ashley wasn’t going to flirt back with someone she thought was my old friend.

I looked again through the window. Mike was gesticulating as Ashley listened attentively. I felt helpless. I saw Mike put a hand on her shoulder, like he was saying, “I know, I know.”

When eighteen minutes had passed, I couldn’t wait any longer. Mike saw me walk in and shot me a look, holding up his hand to say, “Five more minutes.” I turned around and went back outside. I thought of extended time in soccer games.

What the fuck was I doing? Was he really onto some great insight?

When I walked back in exactly five minutes later, I was prepared to shake my head no, that the alone-time with my wife was done. Instead he welcomed me back, saying, “Those damn west coast peeps.”

“Pain in my ass,” I replied, “So how are you guys doing?”

Ashley gave me an unusually bemused look and said, “We’re doing great.”

Mike asked the bartender to turn the TV to the U.S. Open. It was a replay from the afternoon. Nidal was playing some nobody in an early round. Mike started chatting her up about tennis and she yapped away right back at him. When Mike started in on players’ individual strengths and weaknesses, Ashley replied, “I agree” or “Exactly.”

Mike then added how he’d always wanted to go to Wimbledon and the French Open. Ashley gushed about both venues. Suddenly they were swapping stories of must-go vacation spots.

“Ashley and I honeymooned in Italy,” I said.

“Have you ever been, Mike?” Ashley asked.

“Italy is my big European omission,” Mike said. “It’s next up on my list, though.”

Ashley proceeded to name the various must-see places in Rome and Venice.

Mike mentioned that he liked a song that was playing.

“Oh yeah, I love this band,” Ashley said, “I saw them in Boston last year.”

“Yeah, I’m just not into that solo album he did.”

“Me, either,” Ashley replied. “Stick with the band stuff, Brandon.”

I didn’t know the lead singer had a solo anything. I excused myself to go to the men’s room. I was feeling uneasy. Maybe tomorrow he’d say something like, “I observed her body language, and it’s clear that she loves you, that you’re the man in her world.” But I needed to stop throwing up conversational air-balls and get my conversational mitt on.

As I walked back to the bar, Mike had moved into my chair, closer to Ashley, and had her laughing. “Hey buddy,” he said, standing back up, “are we ready for another round?”

“Sure, I think I’ll move on to a martini,” I said, thinking a strong drink would help me get my game on.

“I like your style, buddy. Another drink, Ashley?”

“Absolutely,” she said, “what kind of beer are you drinking?”

“Zlaty Bazant,” Mike said. “It’s from Slovakia. Have a taste, it’s really good.”

“Yeah, that is really good,” Ashley replied.

“Care to join me? I’m getting another.”

“Yeah, sure, why not? It’s got an interesting taste, and why not mix-it up a bit.”

“That a girl,” Mike said, and ordered us the round.

I felt like a schmuck toasting them with my martini.

“How you doing, man?” Mike asked when Ashley went to the bathroom.

“I’m kind of wigging out about now,” I replied.

“Chill out man, this is going well. I’m learning a lot. Trust me, I’ll give you the whole download tomorrow. Why are you wigging?”

“I feel like I’m not even part of the conversation. Like it’s just the two of you talking.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize. I thought we were just getting to know each other. I’ll make a conscious effort to involve you.”

“I wasn’t saying that—”

“No, I will. I’m sorry about that. We can talk about camp days.”

I gave Mike an “Are you fucking serious” look.

“What?” he asked.

“Jeez man, that’s not what I meant. I don’t want to make up shit about jamborees and freaking three legged races.”

Mike laughed, and then apologized for laughing. “Relax bro, this has been enlightening,” he said. “And everything with the two of you will be fine. Believe me. I’ll share with you when we’re alone and have more time.”

Ashley was returning from the ladies room and I kind of backed away.

“Yeah, Giants tickets,” Mike said to me. “PSL’s are outrageously expensive, but I might be able to score a couple tickets for us. I have a friend with lower level twenty yard line.”

“What’s that?” Ashley asked.

“Giants tickets,” Mike replied.

“Dave’s uncle has season tickets. We went a few times, the last couple years.”

“Oh yeah, you a Giants fan Ashley?”

“Not really. I don’t really care for pro football. I like college though.”

“Oh yeah, who’s your team?”

“Virginia Tech.”

And of course Mike engaged Ashley in a conversation about VT football. During a pause, Mike said, “I remember Dave as a mighty good second baseman. I played first base but dropped a lot of his throws. He was awfully patient.”

I appreciated the gesture, but I didn’t find it easy to respond to fake accolades directed at my pretend ten-year-old self.

I felt like a wet log.

Mike excused himself to go to the men’s room, leaving me alone with Ashley.

“How are you doing?” I said.

“Great. I like Mike a lot. Thanks for arranging this.”

“Yeah, I thought you’d like him,” I said. “I mean it was cool to reconnect after all this time.”

“Yeah, that’s really cool,” she said. “I guess FB can be good for something, right?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I was surprised he found me, that he even remembered my last name.”

I felt awkward and full of shit, like I was talking to just to talk.

“Are you OK?” I asked. “I mean, do you want to get going soon?”

“No, I’m good, this is fun. You?”

“I was just checking is all.”

“Another round, guys?” Mike asked after he returned.

“Sure, why not?” Ashley said.

“Another martini, Dave?”

“No, I’ll just have a beer—that Czech beer you guys are drinking.”

Then Mike suggested tequila shots. “What do you say Ashley, you game? We’ll do hornitos. It’s far better than the gringo patron stuff.”

“Why not?” she said.

When I hesitated Mike said with a laugh, “You’re doing one, too, my man—you gotta love peer pressure.”

“Ever do a vampire shot, Ashley?”

“No,” she replied, “but I think I know what it is. I guess I’m doing one, right?”

“My kinda girl,” he replied.

I wasn’t sure what it was and listened as Mike explained it to my wife. I watched as he licked Ashley’s neck and shook salt onto his wet saliva. He gave her the lime, telling her to keep it in her mouth; then he licked the salt off her neck, slammed the tequila and put his mouth to Ashley’s as her tongue passed the lime to him.

She smiled when he told her it was her turn.

I watched as Ashley licked Mike’s neck, poured the salt, licked it off, and did her shot. Only Mike was briefly playful with the lime, like she was going to have to go in and get it out of his mouth.

“C’mon,” she said as he brought the lime to his lips before letting her snatch it.

“No cheating,” she said afterwards, giving him a playful punch.

Mike laughed then turned to me, saying, “drink up buddy.”

When he asked if I needed salt or lime, I replied, “I do mine straight.”

I felt like a dumbass as soon as I said that.

“Excuse me, buddy,” Mike said laughing.

So there I was, chugging my shot alone, as Mike went back to chatting with Ashley.

“How did that treat you, buddy?” Mike asked. “Hornitos is pretty smooth, right?”

“Yeah,” I replied, “I just don’t need the training wheels.”

Another lame response, I thought.

“I like the process and tradition,” Mike said, “the tequila, the lime, the salt—but I know what you mean about just doing it straight.”

I thought about the vampire shot as I pissed. How was that getting a read on her?

Face it, I thought. Mike is hitting on Ashley. He has designs on my wife.

What other explanation was there?

But it was midnight. Ashley and I had to be up early. That was my exit strategy. I would be casual, give him a hug, and tell him to get back to me about those Giants tickets.

But then I walked back out to the bar. Even from forty feet away, I could see what was happening. Mike was kissing Ashley. She was kissing him back.

Jesus Christ, I thought. That motherfucker is making out with my wife. I went back to the bathroom, my heart racing. How stupid can I be?

And how could Ashley do that? She knew I’d only be gone for a minute. What would the freaking bartender, who knew us, be thinking? I waited another minute before going back out. From afar, I could see they were just talking now. I pretended like I hadn’t seen anything when I walked back up.

“We were just talking about a nightcap back at the place,” Ashley said.

“What do you say buddy?” Mike asked.

“It’s past midnight. You sure, Ashley?”

“Yeah, why not? It’s only a few blocks and it’s not super-late, right?”

“Uh yeah, OK,” I said.

When Mike went to the men’s room I asked Ashley, “You sure about this?”

“Yeah, I mean you’re OK with it, right?”

“Uh yeah, sure.”

“We still have those Corona Lights, right?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“And we have vodka and cranberry juice?”

“Yeah.”

“How are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m good, how are you?”

“Great, and I understand.”