I’m going to kill the Bastard,” I shouted, slamming the phone back onto its cradle. “How could I have been so stupid?”    In a moment of rage, I hurled the photos against the wall and watched them scatter around the floor.  I dialed Mags’ number. 

“Hey, what’s up, Jor?” She answered in a preoccupied voice.

“Vinny DeCarlo is dead meat.  You are not going to believe what this bastard did this time,” I shouted into the mouthpiece.  “He’s been two-timing me, Mags.”  I walked toward the living room, pulling the telephone chord beyond its reach.  The chord jerked, and I turned in the opposite direction.   “Someone sent me photos of the dirt-bag in a compromising position with some blonde bimbo.” 

    There was a stretch of silence before she went off into her usual tirade.  “I’m not the least bit surprised.  I’ve been telling you this for years.  Vinny’s always been a cheat . . . you didn’t want to listen to me.”

 “Don’t rub it in.  Okay?”  I pulled out a stool and sat down, resting my elbow on the counter and cradled my head in my hand.  My eyes welled with tears.  “I can’t believe it,” I bellowed. “Why, after three years?”  I grabbed a tissue from the box and wiped my eyes.

“Did you call him?”

“I didn’t have to.  I was opening the mail when he called to cancel our date for tonight.  That’s when I saw the pictures. ”

“Did he deny it?”

“How could he when I had the proof right in front of me?”  My anger turned to sadness and tears gushed out, running down my cheeks like a geyser erupting.  “You know, I really thought this time was going to be different.” 

“I’m sorry, Jor, I didn’t mean to rub your nose in it.  You know how much I hate that dick-head . . . it just came out before I realized what I was saying.”

“I know.  It’s okay.”

“Listen” she said with a deep sigh, “you sit tight.  Em and I’ll be right over.” 

I sat silent for a while, going over the scenario again, then slipped off the stool and reached for the opened bottle of wine sitting on the counter, and refilled a used glass from last night.  I took a swig and continued my pacing until Mags and Em arrived.

“Oh Jor, I’m so sorry.” Emily said dashing toward me. 

“I’ll be okay,” I lied, sitting down on the sofa.  Mags crouched down in front of me, grabbed a hold of my chin and stared into my eyes as though she was looking into a crystal ball. It’s almost as if she believes she has special powers.  She flicked a loose strand of blue hair out of her eyes, and leaned in closer.  “Your pupils are dilated,” she said, easing herself onto the sofa next to me. 

I pushed her hand away.  “Please stop."

“I know you’re upset, but it’ll get better.  I promise.”  She reached out to hug me, and I cried on her shoulder.

        “How do you know that?”

“I don’t, really, but it has to get better.  Let it all out.” 

Mags is a petite little thing, five feet in height, cute figure, and into the Punk look—not that she has the same beliefs as the diehards, but she opted to look the part because it was her way of fighting the establishment—namely her mother who’s a socialite.   I’m sure the color coordinated sneakers she wears to match her hair gives her mother hope that not all is lost—she’s taught her daughter something about fashion.  Emily and I knew she needed to do her thing, so we let her.

Emily sat down next to me.  “Where are the photos?”

“On the floor,” I said weakly, pointing toward the kitchen.  Mags released me and bolted up, racing to the kitchen to see the photos before Emily could get there.  Emily, who ignores Mags’ control issues, glared at her as she breezed past her, stooping down to pick up a few of her own photos.  She shot Mags a resentful look.

“Hey," Mags shouted in defense, "I wanted to see if I knew the bimbo.” 

Emily’s hand shot up signaling a stop order, then she studied the photos in her hand.  When her eyebrows rose in surprise, Mags bolted beside her like she was sliding into home plate. 

“Oh my God,” she giggled leaning over Em’s shoulder.  “I had no idea.  I mean, I knew the guy had big hands and feet, but I always thought that was a fallacy.  Oh wow, will you look at that.”  Emily elbowed her from behind, and Mags’ hand automatically shot up and covered her mouth. 

On a good day I probably would have laughed at Mags' comment, but this wasn't a good day.  Sadness crept into my chest. “This has to be my fault,” I said remorsefully.  “Maybe I didn’t bring enough to our relationship.”

“Oh, Jor, c’mon,” Mags said, handing the photos to Emily before walking back into the living room.  “Get real, will ya.  I’ve known the dick-head longer than any of you.  He's always been a loser.  You don’t think this latest chick is going to be any better off than anyone else, do you?”

“I don’t know.  He’s got to stop whoring around sooner or later, don’t you think?  He’s thirty-one years old.”  She gave me the side glare, then walked back into the kitchen and removed two wine glasses and filled them, handing one to Emily.  She stopped in front of me and tipped the bottle, refilling my empty glass.  “Okay, what are we going to do about getting even with him?”

The waterworks subsided and anger crept in like a sponge soaking up water. “I’m working on it.”

“Tell me about your conversation with him.” 

“He called from the airport to cancel our date for tonight saying he had to cover a meeting for his boss.  I was opening the mail while we spoke, and found a large manila envelope in the pile.  Curious about the contents, I opened it.  When I saw those pictures, I gasped.  I must have alarmed Vinny because he kept asking me what was wrong.   When I got to the last photo and saw them together, I totally lost it and wigged out on him.  I know I was screaming at the top of my lungs.  It's really one big blur, right now."  I took a swig of wine, then continued.   “He immediately tried to deny it, saying someone was trying to frame him.”  I tilted my head to the side.  “Yeah," I said, "they framed him alright--right in a picture frame."

        “Did you ask him about the woman in the photo?”

“He said he’d met her at a conference—he’d never seen her before then.”  I shook my head in disbelief.  “When I asked him if he was in love with her, he said he loved me.”  My heart constricted, rehashing the conversation in my mind, realizing I remembered more than I wanted.  “That’s when I lost it again, and slammed the phone down in his ear.  I hope I broke his freakin’ eardrum.”

“He's lying," Mags said. "That jerk is such a weasel.” 

Emily sat quietly, sipping her wine, letting Mags dominate the Q&A session.   Mags stood and took over pacing in short succinct steps, her thumb rubbing across her lips, deep in thought.  “So, what are we going to do?”  She asked.

The shrill ring of the phone cut into her voice.  I flipped open my cell.  Vinny’s number flashed across the screen.  He didn't wait for me to say hello.

“Jordan, I’m so sorry.”  I pointed to the phone and mouthed his name.  Mags and Emily both rolled their eyes, then Mags raced over, reaching for the phone.  I stopped her with my hand.

 “My plane leaves in a half hour," he said.  "I didn’t mean to hurt you, baby.  I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“Oh really, Vin?  Well, I’d say those photos look pretty damned rehearsed to me.”  I flipped the phone shut, and looked at my friends.  Mags had a sneer on her face, Emily’s expression was grim.

“What the hell did he want?” Mags asked, with an arched brow.  I could see she was seething.

“To apologize.”

“You’re not settling for that, are you?”

I frowned.  “Did it sound like I was falling for it?”

“Just checking, Jor.  Just checking.”  She walked toward the kitchen, satisfaction written all over her face.  She snorted.  “Yeah, I really like knowing the Turd feels guilty.”  She flipped her middle finger in the air.  “Here’s to you dirt-bag.”  She continued pacing, stopping between the two rooms.  “So, what do you think, Jor?  I mean, we have to do something to him; we can't just wait for this thing to blow over.”   I nodded in agreement. “But we're going to do it now, right?”

        “You bet we are.”  I released a heavy sigh, unsure of my next step.

Mags clutched her stomach.  “Let’s get something to eat at Friday’s.  I can’t remember the last time I ate, and I'm starving.”

“Yup.”

Emily bent over and snatched my purse up off the floor and tossed it to me, then pulled the car keys out of her bag and headed for the door.  “C’mon, let’s roll.”

I got into the back seat of her car with Mags up front.  Mags slid across the seat, deep lines across her forehead.  “Hey,” she snapped her fingers together, “I’ve got an idea. Let’s call his job.”

 “Why?  If he’s at the airport, what are we going to find out?” I asked.

“Vinny’s secretary, Jor.  The last time we saw her at Vinny’s company picnic, she was spilling her guts about her life.  It was like a freakin’ open-book.”  I nodded.  “So if she’s spilling her guts about her life, she’s going to spill her guts about Vinny’s, too . . . at least, what she knows.”

“I’m not following you, Mags.”

“She makes all his travel arrangements, right?”

“Yeah, that’s what he’s told me.”

“It seems to me that I was here for one of those conversations between you and the dirt-bag.  Remember when you were talking about getting away—cripes, I can’t remember where you wanted to go, but he said . . . hmm . . . what’s her name?”

“Lisa.”

“Yeah, right . . . that’s when Vinny said, he’d have Lisa do some research for your vacation.” 

“I still don't understand why that's important.”

“Because, Jor, she’s a blabber mouth.  And what do blabber mouths do?  They love telling you things you don’t know—it makes them feel important.  So,” she raised her finger in the air. “She’s going to tell us if he’s really on a business trip.”

“Mags,” Emily piped up.  “If this isn’t a business trip, do you think he’d have called Jordan so many times?”

“Well, what if she was in the ladies room when he called.”

“Who was in the ladies room?” I asked.

“The blonde bimbo in the prone position.”  I gasped, tears rolled down my cheeks. 

“Damn you, Mags,” Emily shouted.  “What’s wrong with you?  This isn’t a novel you’re talking about.  This is Jordan’s relationship.”  

“Christ, Jor.  Emily’s right.  You know me; I wasn’t thinking.  I didn’t mean anything by it; I just got all caught up in trying to solve the puzzle.”  She reached her arm over the back seat and grabbed my hand.  “Really, Jor.  I have a big thoughtless mouth.”

I patted her hand, forgiving her, because I do know how she is.

“I’m saying all the wrong things.  I’m not help at all, so I’m just going to shut up.  It’s just that he’s hurt you so bad.  I want to hurt him for being a jerk to you.”

“I know, Mags.  Call Lisa for me.”  My stomach tightened in knots. “I'm too emotional right now to call her, and will probably ruin the whole thing.”  

“You’d rather know for the sake of closure?  Right, Jor?” She asked.  “If you don’t find out the truth, you’re always going to wonder.  So, do you want me to call?”  I nodded in agreement.  “Okay, so, I’ll pretend I’m you, and . . . I figure it out as I go along.”

I bitterly scrolled down the contacts in my cell and found his office number, handing it over to Mags. She clicked on the speaker so we could all hear at the same time.  I was a bundle of nerves listening to the phone ring, wondering why I was adding to my stress.

“Good afternoon, Kane, Kane & Jabber.  This is Lisa.”

“Hi Lisa.  This is Vinny DeCarlo’s girlfriend . . . remember me?”  There was a brief silence.  “We met at the company picnic in July.”

“Oh, sure. I’m sorry,” she giggled. “I was in the middle of a text message to my boyfriend.  Yes, of course, I remember you.  Uh-oh, what’s wrong?” She asked. “Please don’t tell me American messed up your flights again?”

 “Well, I wanted to . . . .”

“Oh, wait a minute,” she scoffed, “I get it.  You guys are so funny.  I’ll bet Vinny put you up to this little prank, didn’t he?” 

“What do you mean,” Mags said, faking a laugh.

“He told me I’d better not screw up your vacation plans to Cabo because this was a special week.”  She giggled.

I gasped.  Mags’ hand shot out and clamped over my mouth.  Hot tears streamed down my cheeks like the Mauna Loa volcano on the Hawaiian Islands.  This was so surreal, I felt like I was having an out of body experience—whatever that is.

“What’s wrong?” Lisa asked.

“Nothing.” Mags released another laugh to cover my outburst.  “The woman sitting next to me was just overreacting to something her friend said.”

“Oh God, I thought I spoiled a surprise.  I mean, Vinny told me you guys had been planning this trip for a long time.”

“No, no, you didn’t spoil a thing.  Vinny and I have been planning this for a long time.”

She released an exaggerated sigh of relief into the phone. “Man, you really had me going there for a minute.”

“Not to worry," Mags said.  "Well Lisa, I’d better run.  The passengers are lining up at the gate.  Thanks for being such a good sport.  Vinny is always telling me how much he enjoys working with you—now I understand why.”

“Yeah, he’s such a good boss.  I’d do anything for him. He makes this job fun—he’s a real game player.  Hey, can I talk to that jokester?  I want to give him a dose of his own medicine.” 

“Aww, Lee, I’m sorry.  He’s in the men’s room, and if he doesn’t hurry up, I'll be vacationing in Cabo without him.  I know he’s going to laugh his head off when I tell him about your reaction.  I’ll be sure to tell him you had him figured out from the get-go.” 

She laughed.  “Okay,” she giggled.  “You know, one of these times he won’t be joking, and I’m not going to know the difference.”  A buzzing sound interrupted the conversation.   “Hey, I have to go too.  The head honcho is sitting on the buzzer—the jerk must need a cup of coffee,” she said sarcastically.  “You guys have a fabulous time.  I understand the stone you picked out is like the rock of Gibraltar.  You go, girl.  You’re an asset to the gender.  Be sure to stop in as soon as you return, I want to see that rock.  And, hey, don’t forget my address for that wedding invitation.  This is one occasion I don’t want to miss.”

“Yeah, me neither.” Mags replied.  “Okay, Lisa, you take care and we’ll talk when I return.”  As soon as the call ended, I released the pent up emotions I’d stifled throughout the call.  The pain I felt in my chest was as if Vinny had stabbed me in the heart, and tearing it out with his bare hands, a tiny piece at a time.

I felt the car come to a standstill.  The next thing I knew, Emily and Mags were sliding across the back seat on each side of me.

“I’m so sorry, Jordan,” Mags said sympathetically.  “I never expected her to say all those things. All I wanted was find out if Vinny was lying this time . . . you know . . . oh hell, I don’t know what I figured.  God, I’m so sorry.”  She lowered her head to my eyelevel reaching out to dry my tears with her fingers.  “I feel like such a schmuck.”  She put her arms around me, rocking back and forth trying to comfort me. “Please forgive me.”

The only thing I could do was nod.  I was speechless.  Emily began massaging my shoulders.  Mags released me and shuffled through her purse. “Where the hell are the goddamn tissues when you need one?”  

 “Here, I’ve got one” Emily said, pulling an overused tissue from her pocket. “This is the only thing I have in my purse.”  I gladly accepted it and blew my nose.  Mags reached over the front seat, handing me her bottle of water.  “Here, Jor, take a sip—I wish I had something stronger, but this’ll have to do for now.”   She expelled a deep sigh.  “Okay, sweetie, what do you want to do?”

“I want to die, that’s what I want to do.” 

“No you don’t.  We’ll get you through this.  C’mon try some of that square breathing.”

I did as she suggested, because technically, she’d been right about everything else.  I was kicking myself for having doubted her wisdom.  I slowly inhaled and exhaled to the count of ten.  It did little to relieve my stress. This day was definitely a day from hell.

My tears subsided, and I stared out the front window trance-like, trying to make sense of what was happening, and wondering how I’d missed the signs.  The more I thought about it, I realized those signs had been there—I’d become too complacent in our relationship. 

Things like the increased late nights at the office, the no-show dinner reservations—only to receive a call the next morning to explain, and then the times he’d been avoiding my parents’ house.  They were all there; I’d just chosen to ignore them. 

I recalled the last time I’d run into his mother, and how strangely awkward it felt.  At the time, I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I knew something was wrong.  She must have known what was going on.  My mind raced with random thoughts of other instances when I’d been duped.  The burning anger deep in the pit of my stomach festered and finally erupted into a full boil, and I was out for blood—his blood.

Mags broke the silence.  “I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but  . . ."

“You don’t have to say a word.  I'm going to fix this dirt-bag, but good.”

Mags recoiled after my comment.  Emily shot her a look and got out of the car, and leaned against the closed door. 

“Look, I’m really sorry Jor, but I’m pissed.”

“Pissed?”

“Yeah, I’m pissed.  At the dirt-bag; at you, because you didn’t believe me, and most of all, I’m really pissed at myself because I didn’t do enough to convince you.”  Her eyes misted.  “I feel like I failed you as a friend.”

The lump in the back of my throat wouldn’t go away.  “Mags, you didn’t fail me.  I failed me.  Listen, I’m feeling bad enough for the both of us, so don’t you dare weaken on me now.  I need to feed off your strength.”

“You’re right.  I’m not any help if I can’t give you support.  You’ve got it from here on out.”

“I’ve got it all worked out.”

“You do?” Emily said sticking her head through the open window.

“Yup.  I do.” My pulse kicked up a notch at the prospects of having a plan. “Okay, I’m off to Cabo.  I'm going to make Vinny DeCarlo sorry he ever met me."  I pointed to the two of them.  "Are you guys in?"