Reluctant Cuckold (28 page)

“You don’t sound very enthusiastic,” my mom observed.

“Well, it will be good to see Sean, but I really only got the bachelor party invite because I’m Sean’s brother and he’s the best man. It’s not like Patrick and I are really friends.”

“Oh, come on,” my mom said. “You all grew up together. He invited you because he wants you there.”

“Mom,” I said, patting her, “that would work when I’m fifteen, but he’s Sean’s friend. At least he doesn’t give me wedgies anymore, I’ll grant you that.”

“Yeah but it’s still Vegas, right?” Ashley interjected. “I mean let’s bright-side things.”

“Honestly,” I said, “if I wasn’t already going to be on the West Coast, I’d be thinking of ways to bail.”

“I’m sure it will be fun,” my mom said.

“Well, knowing Sean and Patrick,” my dad said, “they’ll see to that, which is what worries me.”

Ashley laughed and said, “What worries you?”

“You really want to know Ashley?” my dad said. “I’m not saying Sean’s not responsible, but in a few years he’ll be forty and he still sometimes thinks he’s twenty-one.”

“Did you ever feel that way about Dave?” Ashley asked.

My dad looked over at me.

“Hey, stop right now,” I said with a smile. “We were simply talking about my Vegas trip.”

“Even as a teenager, Ashley,” my dad said, “David was more grounded.”

“Can we please change the subject,” I said.

“Oh, I almost forgot, Ashley,” my mom said, “I heard from the Seevers that you were the consummate host the other weekend at the pool, and they loved your Bloody Marys.”

“Oh my God,” Ashley said. “I can’t tell you what a godsend your pool was that day. It was such a great escape from the city. And your neighbors were a lot of fun.”

“Oh, and I gave Jay your address,” my mom said.

“What?” I said.

“He said he invited you to his birthday party.”

“Yeah?” I said.

“He told me yesterday he wanted to send you an invitation.”

“You gave him our home address?” I asked.

Ashley looked at me funny.

“Yes, he’s turning fifty. He said he told you about it?”

“Yeah,” I said, and then Ashley followed with “Yeah.”

“Well, we’ll be away on Block Island, but if you want to go, you can stay at the house, of course.”

“Well, we’re not sure what we’re doing that weekend. We’ll play it by ear,” I said.

Conversation swiveled back to some book my mom was reading and Ashley was hitting her up with questions. My dad had read the book, too, and was chiming in.

I just sat there, pretending to care.

“Was your mom holding back?” Ashley asked, as we lay in bed.

“About what?”

“She didn’t say anything about Jay being unstable or domestic abuse or stalker stuff.”

“My mom’s not going to gossip like that.”

“I know,” she replied, “but she’d say something, right, like don’t go to his party?”

“Oh, she would, if she actually thought we would go,” I said. “I wasn’t making up that stuff about Jay.”

“I know. I wasn’t saying you were.”

But after Ashley fell asleep, I thought about what my mom had done. She’s not stupid, especially when it comes to a person’s character. Why would Jay make an additional effort by asking my mom for our address? How could my mom not see his motivations? Could she think he would have ever invited me solo? No, he was only inviting me because he wanted to get with my wife. I’d be just some pesky, slightly inconvenient, obstacle for his friends to distract.

Mom, do you realize what Jay was actually asking?

“Can I get your son’s address? I want to fuck your daughter-in-law, your son’s wife. I want your son to bring her to me.”

The fucking chutzpah of some guys.

Hey Jay! You think I’m going to RSVP “yes” and bring my wife out to you like some kind of birthday fuck present? That I’m going to dither obliviously while you take her up to your bedroom?

You are fucking out of your mind. You’re fifty years old, you dirty old man. Yeah, I’m sure you could kick my ass, or try and make a fool of me with your blue-collar biker-type losers, or have them pull interference on me, but guess what? We’re not fucking showing.

By Tuesday night there was a card in our mailbox.

There was a pretty generic “please join us” card inside, but on the back, Jay had left a personalized note:

Jesus Christ
, I thought,
was this guy fucking serious?
Ride on his fucking pasta rocket? How was he not implying he wanted Ashley riding on his big fat Italian cock? Jay had to know I would see the invite. Perhaps he didn’t give a fuck. Just like he hadn’t that day by the pool.

“I know you’re not man enough to stand up to me,” I pictured him saying.

I was leaving for the San Francisco office in the morning before going to Vegas on Friday.

I wasn’t happy about being away from Ashley for four nights and started thinking of what to do with the invite. I left it under some papers on my desk.

“I forgot about it,” I could always say later, “we weren’t really planning on going out there anyway, right?”

Ashley had a work dinner, so I went back online and saw Mike. I had put the other guys who had messaged me on
Ignore
.

“I thought about what you said,” I told him. “I’m heading out of town for business and a bachelor party, but I plan on having another talk with her when I get back.”

“Good for you man,” he replied, “and don’t over-think it. Focus on the things you NEED to know, and save what you WANT to know for later.”

“Right,” I typed, “well, I liked your idea of cloaking it as asking about her job.”

“Yeah, be gentle and understanding, but ask open-ended questions, nothing she can say yes or no to. You want her to simply start talking, communicating about this. You want to starve that elephant in the room, and send him running for the hills.”

“Yeah, I hear you.”

“How long are you away for?”

“Four nights. Leaving tomorrow night and back on Sunday.”

“Does that worry you? Will you be wondering what she’s up to?”

“Well, I’m going to miss her primarily, but yeah, I’m sure I will be wondering. There’s some older guy where my parents live, who flirted with her the weekend before last, and he just sent us an invite to a party.”

“Who’s the guy?”

“Some construction guy who was ogling over Ashley when we were at my parents’ pool.”

“Who is he?”

“A neighbor with his own construction business. He’s turning fifty. He gave Ashley his number and openly flirted with her.”

“What was Ashley’s reaction to him flirting?”

“It’s hard to tell because she’s friendly with everyone, but she was running in to get him beers and jiggling her tits in her bikini. And they talked a lot.”

“How did you feel about that?”

“Awkward,” I replied, “and a little intimidated, to be honest.”

“But Ashley hasn’t called him, has she?”

“I doubt it, no. Like I said, I think she was just trying to be the friendly hostess.”

“What was the party invitation you mentioned?”

“He’s throwing himself a happy-birthday-to-me party. Well, he invited us and we said we’d think about it. He asked my mom for our address and I got the invite tonight.”

“Are you gonna go?” Mike asked.

“No, and what he wrote has me peeved.”

“What did he write?”

“Well, as I mentioned, he was openly flirtatious with her, and he had talked about motorcycles and Ashley joked how she likes to ride ‘pasta rockets’, which I’ve since learned is slang for Italian bikes.”

“Never heard the term myself.”

“Yeah, and he wrote in the note for Ashley to come early, so he could give her a ride on his pasta rocket.”

“OK, bro, you need to watch out with this guy. He wants to fuck her; that’s quite obvious.”

“Yeah, that’s what I surmised.”

“Do you think Ashley has any interest in him?”

“I don’t think so, and he’s twenty years older.”

“You said you’re going to a bachelor party?” Mike asked.

“Yeah, in Vegas on Friday—a friend of my brother’s.”

“Are you worried about Ashley meeting up with this construction guy while you’re away?”

“It’s crossed my mind, but I really don’t think so. And it’s not in my control.”

“Well, this may sound crazy, Dave, but do you want me to try and keep an eye on her when you’re away? I have to work, of course, but maybe if she said she was at some bar and you wanted it confirmed, if I had time, I could maybe reassure you that she was there.”

“No, but thanks,” I typed. “I don’t want to spy on her.”

“I hear you. It doesn’t bode well if you’re reduced to that. That can be a problem in itself.”

“Yeah,” I typed, “but I am committed to having a talk with her as soon as I get back.”

“Well, start thinking of what you want to say while you’re away,” Mike said. “Hell, even on the plane ride tomorrow, start sketching it out in your mind. Don’t kick the can too far down the road. You certainly won’t have time when you’re in Vegas.”

“Yeah,” I typed, “you’re right. I’ll jot some themes down on the flight.”

“Yeah, and keep your notes loose. Just prepare yourself for different things she might say … and potential answers.”

“Yeah,” I typed, “all good points. Well she’s going to be home soon. I should get going.”

“OK, but Dave?”

“Yeah.”

“Be careful when you’re in Vegas bro. Don’t be talking to your friends about what happened with Ashley at the party.”

“Oh, I won’t,” I replied, “I can’t and haven’t talked to anyone I know about this.”

“I know you haven’t. I’m just throwing out a friendly caution. I know how I get talking after a lot of drinks. You might feel better getting it off your chest, but this is not a ‘what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas’ kind of thing. It doesn’t matter how close you are as friends. I’ve seen your wife, and if you got real with them, I guarantee they would see the open sign and be scheming to fuck her when you get back.”

“There’s no way I would tell them,” I said, “but yeah, I am definitely going to back-pocket your reminder.”

As she was leaving for work, Ashley pointed at me and said, “Now, no funny business in Vegas, mister.”

“Oh all right” I said, like she’d just rained on my parade.

“And don’t come back with any missing teeth.”

“Yeah, Ash,” I said, “I’m really going to miss you.”

“I miss you already,” she replied, before heading out the door.

My meetings in San Francisco went well. And on both nights Ashley and I talked for a while. I was glad to be boarding the quick flight. In two days I’d be back with my wife.

The Vegas heat hit me as soon I stepped onto the boarding ramp. “One hundred six degrees,” one of the airline support guys said when he saw my expression.

My brother Sean was waiting for me in the airport bar. “Starting a little early,” I said, as he stood up and gave me a hug. “Is that a shot?”

“It’s tequila. You got to love Vegas. You order a beer, they offer a shot for three dollars more. I don’t turn down good deals. I’ve been waiting so long for your sorry ass that this is my fifth.”

“Jesus,” I said.

“I’m kidding, my flight was late, too—this is only my second—but get ready, little bro, this is only the second of many.”

“It’s probably too early for check-in,” he said, as we got in the taxi. “You don’t mind making a pit stop?”

“A strip bar?” I asked, rolling my eyes.

“No, a spray tan.”

“Are you freaking serious?” I said, “that’s a little gay, now, isn’t it, Sean?”

“Sure it is, but I read reviews about this place. You can’t tell it’s fake.”

“Oh c’mon Sean.”