Just a Couple Ex's Blindsided (16 page)

He stuck the key in the front door, realized it wasn’t locked and turned the knob. He’d expected to find them in the bedroom, not when he’d walked down the hallway into the area that held the family room and kitchen divided by a kitchen island. Music was loud, house reeked of booze, and Lanie was getting fucked hard on the carpet in front of the cold fireplace. There was a porn movie above them on the big screen so the grunts and squeals of fucking was surround sound.

“Fucking bitch,” he spat out, rubbing a hand over his eyes, trying to not see what he was seeing as his legs turned to stone and he stopped by the entryway into the room.

Lanie was the first to react; the guy was too much into the fucking.

“Rio!” Lanie screeched.

“No don’t stop! Come on fuck me, slut!”

Slut?
Rio felt as if his irises turned red. Lanie was on top. She was facing him, because she’d been fucking the guy faced away from him. She slapped the dude’s sides hard, who wanted her to keep going, as she screamed, “My husband, Dean! It’s my fucking, husband!”

Lanie rolled sideways from Dean, getting off his cock. Dean lay like a corpse on the floor, legs splayed. Maybe he didn’t get what Lanie was screeching, because Rio knew when your cock was about ready to explode, oxygen left your brain.

Rio finished his hand grind over his eyes and he could see Lanie half crouched, standing and looking at him like he was a ten-headed alien. She didn’t cry, wail, or run. She looked stunned, but he could see that her perfect features were turning calculating, then hard. The bitch was coming.

“This the way you going to play it?” he snarled at her before she could get all her bitch armor on.

She flinched, but straightened, not trying to cover her nude body. Totally shaved, he noticed with a grimace. That was fucking new. Her hand reached to the mantle and a cigarette. Total witch.

She flipped the lighter, took a puff, glared at him. Her upper lip curling. “He took me to La Bouchon restaurant, the opera, and bought me these fucking diamond studs in my ears, while paying attention to me, and not working all the fucking time making no fucking money.”

Rio shook his head with his gut twisted so tight only a raging punch was going to loosen it. “Cunt,” he called her in a snarl. Then he added, “Get the fuck out of
my
house.”

“Jesus, that your husband!” dickwad cheater on the floor expelled.

“Do you even care your wife was just getting the best sex she ever had?” Lanie screeched, and she threw her lit cigarette onto the carpet, just as the guy grabbed his pants and started pulling them on fast.

Rio’s answer was a sneer and he started walking toward the kitchen and the land line. “Domestic dispute. Going to call the police you’re not out of here.”

“You asshole!” Lanie screeched.

The guy got up and Rio saw he was medium height, but had a bulky build, not like he worked it but was born with it.

“Get that fucking cigarette off the carpet, douche-bag!” Rio yelled at Dean, with his hand grabbing the mobile phone by the patio doors.

Dean grabbed his shirt, shoes, and the lit cig smoldering in the carpet as he crab-ran toward the hallway. Lanie stomped toward the hall leading to their bedrooms and at least she had a shirt clutched in front of her. “Goddamn it, Dean, you wait for me!” she yelled.

Rio tried to even his breathing and not show how fucking upset he was as he opened the fridge and grabbed a beer. Dean was huddle by the front door; Rio could just see his bare toes from where he stood.

“I can’t take you home,” Dean bellowed.

Lanie’s screeching from the bedroom was as clear, as if she were in the room. “You going to leave me here, he will kill me!” Lanie appeared from the hallway half-dressed. “You’ve just got to inform your bitch wife you are leaving her sooner,” Lanie threw at Dean, as she grabbed her purse off the counter and a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. She threw a murderous glare at Rio.

“Most women,” Rio uttered, “Most wives, good enough to have, would be sorry and asking for forgiveness. This just shows it all, Lanie.”

“Shows what, Rio! That you can’t keep your wife!”

“That you’re not fucking worth it,” he bellowed at her. Then he forced himself to back up and take a drink of beer. He had to cool down.

Lanie marched with her blouse unbuttoned and her white bra showing to the mantle. Another cigarette and light as she puffed furiously. “I was leaving you anyways,” she declared.

The porn movie played over her head with a guy slamming pussy from behind. “You could have fucking told me,” he muttered under his breath.

Lanie was already stomping to the hallway toward Dean, and Rio wondered if he’d ever known her. What wife acts belligerent like she did getting caught screwing another dude? He was so sore it hurt inside his body, but he kept his face immobile.

“My fucking wife’s going to start crying and shit, Lanie,” Dean said, in loud whispers.

“You got my lawyer tomorrow,” Rio shouted after them.

Lanie gave him a high finger as she slammed open the front door and stalked out, leaving it open. Rio walked over to the door. He could still hear the arguing about Dean’s wife. “You wanna be with her, Dean? You said she was fat and a slug in bed.”

For some unknown reason, after everything piled on him that should have lit him up beyond his ability to hold it back, hearing that nearly did it. He grabbed hold of the doorframe to keep from sprinting out there and roaring at them.

“She’ll do as I tell her, Lanie. You wait and see. She won’t cross me.”

What the fuck did that mean, Rio wondered, as Lanie  standing by the passenger side of Dean’s truck expelled, “I’m not going to your house. It’s her or me!”

“Calm down, Lanie, geeze. Just for tonight, I can keep her under control.”

“Fuck,” Rio cussed, and he let go of the doorway and stalked out toward Dean who was halfway into his truck.

“Look out he’s coming!” Lanie screeched.

Rio grabbed the door from swinging shut on Dean’s side. “You fucking lay one harmful finger on your wife, asshole, and I will tear you apart!” Dean hastily started his truck with his gaze looking furious but shocked.

“You stay out of shit with my wife!” Dean shouted.

Rio’s arm nearly got torn off when Dean backed up the truck with the door still opened. Rio grunted in pain and grabbed his upper arm as he watched Dean reach out to slam the door shut, give him the finger, and then peel out while nearly hitting his chopper. Just as the sound of the truck screeching away was a distant sharpness he heard a sob behind him, toward the house.

Shit.

He turned knowing who the hell it was...

He also knew she’d heard all that crap her dickwad husband was spewing. Just fucking great, he thought trying to bite back the pain in his shoulder.

“I-I couldn’t leave,” she whispered with tears in her voice as she huddled by his garage door. He might have sent her on her way, but something Dean was saying at the end bothered him ... like the asshole could and maybe already did hurt his wife.

“You’re hurt,” she sniffled, then her shadow came towards him. “Your shoulder, is it bad?” He didn’t say anything, just looked down at the tears on her pretty face. “It needs ice and Ibuprofen for swelling,” she whispered.

He grunted, with a nod. “Come on in.”

She’s a slug in bed and fat.
Natalie forced the horrible words from her mind. But what she couldn’t force from reality was how beautiful the woman was. Rio’s wife, Lanie. She’d found out the names from Dean and Lanie yelling, but Rio’s, she’d asked him. He’d growled his name and she’d given hers as he’d led her into his house. Why she followed his sort-of-invitation to come inside, without actually saying the words, was simply because she had no clue where to go.

As she followed Rio, while trying to control her crying, she saw he was a different kind of man than she was used too. He had on the big black motorcycle boots, worn black jeans, and a washed out blue tee shirt that showed muscular upper arms and read, “Born Wild,” in faded letters on the front. He had a long silver chain that went from his back pocket to somewhere in front and when they got into the light of his front hallway, she saw he had tattoos on his arms.

She didn’t know any men that had tattoos ... or such long hair ... or really such a deep voice. Whenever he spoke the bass of his voice shivered through her. She shouldn’t follow into his house, but really she was very lost and hurt. Immediately, she fell back on being helpful as a way to cover the suffocating pain, and she went right to his refrigerator opened the freezer and started digging in the ice maker for ice. He was in the family room and she saw he had a remote in his hand. Her gaze lifted further and she saw a porn movie on a really big screen TV over the fireplace.

The woman on the screen had been getting it from two men. One from behind and one in her mouth before the picture blinked off. Natalie tried to catch her sound of surprise, but it started out of her throat anyway and she rattled the ice really loudly to cover it.

Maybe she shouldn’t be in a stranger’s house. Alone.

To cover her discomposure she grabbed a towel off the oven door handle to her right to put ice into as she fought her horrid blushes. She’d never seen a woman do that to a man with her mouth before. Then suddenly she realized that it had to be Dean and Lanie watching the porn movie. Not Rio at all. Of course it could be his porn, but he’d not been home to put it on ...

“Just forget it,” she muttered under her breath, determined to help Rio’s shoulder even besides just viewing a porn movie scene with him. Her tears were dried at least as she scooted over to him, standing in the middle of his family room, behind a leather couch facing the fireplace.

His hip was cocked to one side and his jeans fit his butt tightly but his tee shirt had ridden up and she could see his lower back. There was something mesmerizing about it. Then she saw his eyes were a cocoa brown as she touched his really nice bicep and put the towel full of ice on the front of his shoulder. His moustache and short beard which might not be a true beard but just a longer time from shaving were as dark brown as his hair. Just shy of black.

“Thanks.” He grabbed the ice towel and she slipped her hand out from under his.

To hide her instant shyness, her gaze dipped, as she mumbled, “Ibuprofen in the bathroom maybe?”

“Don’t know...”

Before he could say more and to move away from how close they were, she interrupted, too brightly, “I’ll go look.” She started away, then thought to add, “If that’s okay?”

“Fine with me, lady.”

Natalie’s eyes widened as she reached the hallway. The way he’d said “lady” was like a baritone caress. He had a really good voice. Then she proceeded to ignore how dirty and messy Rio’s house was. By the time she reached the bathroom she was dismayed over it, then once in the bathroom she was appalled. Clearly Rio’s wife Lanie could screw men very well but not clean house worth a damn.

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N
ia Cooper couldn't believe it. She'd just gotten off work from the Fabric Barn when a man and a woman approached her out in the parking lot, next to her old rusted GTO. They claimed they were television producers for a show called, "Rotten Cheating Spouses."

Nia looked disbelievingly at the thin, forty-something woman. Nia thought her inward instincts were telling her that a woman would offer more support. She was wrong about that.

"Mrs. Cooper, wouldn't you want to know if your husband was cheating?" a man in the group asked her, with a microphone tilted toward her, as a tall man carrying a big camera on his shoulder slowly walked toward them.

"Here sign this," the thin woman urged. "So we can tape your answer." The woman held a paper attached to a clipboard with a pen pointed in Nia's direction. "Just initials are fine," the woman persisted.

Nia tried quelling the sudden alarm she felt by rationalizing it was just a poll taken by the TV show. What were the odds of a TV show showing up in her part of town though? The town was big enough that she'd not been on the east-side of town in over a year. There was just no need to go over there.

"Yes, I think husbands or wives should be told if their spouses are cheating," she said, answering the poll question with her honest feelings. "It's a horrible thing," she added.

"Just sign this so your answer counts," the woman producer repeated, and she actually put the pen in Nia's hand and moved her fingers to the paper. Nia initialed what she assumed was her vote, and just as the last swirl was drawn, the woman producer exclaimed, "Got it!"

Lights from the camera flashed on, flooding the area in brightness even though it was daylight. Nia lifted her hand, trying to shade her eyes from the glare, as she exclaimed, "Oh no! No, I don't want to be taped. I just gave my vote is all? Please don't tape me."

"Don't worry," the man said, with a much different voice than he'd used to ask the cheating spouse question. Now his voice was unnaturally deep sounding and it had a fake sympathetic tone to it. "You'll want this documented," he said.

"Mrs. Cooper, we have some video that we think you need to see," the woman said, who now had a suit jacket on and her glasses were gone. "Just take a look here."

A mini-camcorder screen was pushed under Nia's nose, and as she looked down at it, she heard the man say. "We are so sorry to have to reveal this to you, Mrs. Cooper, and we will offer you complete support through all of this."

Nia felt her body tensing as her stomach grew sour with terrible feelings.
Oh no.
She tried to force her eyes away from the video screen, but her husband Dan was suddenly on the screen and she couldn't tear her gaze away. It came to her, right before it was confirmed by events on the camcorder screen, what the combination might mean of her husband and a TV show called, "Rotten Cheaters."

"Oh it can't be," she whispered, and she didn't realize she'd dropped her purse to clutch the viewing screen. On the screen she saw her husband, Dan, leaning over to kiss a pretty black-haired woman. It wasn't a peck either. It was a long and lingering kiss that made her sicker with each moment it went on.