I just found out that my wife of eight years is a whore. Yes, a whore. That means she is getting paid to have sex with strangers. She works as a waitress at a truck stop on the interstate, about twenty miles from our home in Hutto. I had to drop some supplies off for my boss at the truck stop to catch a driver headed north. It was easier for me to deliver the supplies to him so he wouldn't have to go too far out of his way. It was fifty boxes of flooring that needed to get to Dallas tomorrow. My boss contacted a dispatcher, who then contacted a driver. The driver was on one of his mandatory rest periods and would be leaving in two hours, so we loaded up a box truck and I headed north of Austin to the truck stop where my wife works. As I pulled into the parking lot, I noticed my wife getting out of a tractor cab with someone. She kissed the guy and he gave her some money. There was no mistaking what happened, and what had been going on earlier. I called the guy I was supposed to deliver the flooring to on the CB and he told me where he was parked and what his truck looked like. I pulled around back and found him. He and I loaded the flooring, and then I just sat there in that parking lot and cried.
I drove back to the construction site I was working at over in Lakeway after the driver pulled out. I told my boss that I had made the connection and the flooring was on its way. He could tell something was wrong with me as I was not my good-natured self. He pulled me into the trailer office and closed his office door.
"I know something is wrong, Bob. You left here bubbly just like you usually are, happy and telling jokes. You come back and your face is so long that I could ride to the Gulf on it. What happened?
"It's personal, Sam. I just have to try to come to a decision, probably the hardest decision I have ever made in my life. It's nothing against you, Boss, but I think this is something I need to work out for myself."
"Wait, Bob. You had to deliver that load is where your wife works, right? Did you two have words?"
"She never even knew I was there, Sam, but I saw her, and that's what I have to decide about."
"Oh shit man, I'm sorry, Bob. I take it that she was either not working when she was supposed to be, or she was doing something she shouldn't. I can see by your face she was doing something she shouldn't have done. What can I do to help, Bob?"
"I'm not sure you can do anything. I do know that I need to get tested for AIDS and STDs."
"What??? Is Denise whoring out in the parking lot? That's it, isn't it? She's working the drivers that come in there and doing it in the parking lot, not upstairs in the driver's rest area because she doesn't want her boss to catch her. She will go on a break and go out there, then come back to work. Oh God, I'm so sorry, Bob. Let me make a few phone calls, and then I'll come get you. Why don't you go to your truck and relax for a while, I'll come find you when I get done calling."
"Yeah, I guess, and thanks, Sam. You're a great boss, but I really can't afford a divorce. I love my kids to death and I loved my Denise up until today, but I feel all dead inside. I'm not sure what I feel other than dead. I'll get a couple aspirin and be in my truck."
I walked out of that office trailer in a fog. I got where I was going, but how I got there I couldn't say.
I guess I should tell you some of my background. My name's Robert Earl Jameson, I'm 35 years old, 6'-1", 185 pounds, fit, and until this afternoon, I was madly in love with my wife, Denise. We have three children, Charity aged 7; Linda aged 5; and Robert Junior (RJ) at 4. I also love my kids ... my kids! Are they really my kids? Only time will tell. God, what a mess my wife has left me with. I now doubt that the kids that I love almost as much as I loved my cheating whore wife are really mine. How could that be? I was there for each birth and I had thought that I was there for each conception too, but I'm not sure now. Boy, that's a hell of a thing to start thinking, but after what I saw today, I have to think it may be a reality.
My wife Denise is 32, 5'-6", and around 110. She is gorgeous; why she married me, I'll never know. I met her at the old Copeland Inn dance hall. I'm a damn good welder and all around jack of all trades construction wise. I work construction jobs in and around Austin, Texas. I learned welding in high school, then trade school and I was even an apprentice carpenter for a while, swinging a hammer when I needed to find work.
I ended up working on a job for Sam Stinson. He liked my can do attitude and my willingness to do anything to get the job done. He especially liked my welding skills. I was always upbeat and had a smile on my face. Why not, I had married Denise by then, and we had just had Charity. Sam took me under his wing and I've been working steady ever since, instead of going from job to job, never knowing when that job would end and how long it would be before I found work again.
Denise was working at the truck stop when I met her, and she was living with another waitress, Alice Cooper. I had my own trailer out in Hutto. I bought it from an old man who was going into a nursing home. His kids wanted to sell it and they only wanted $2,500 for it since it was like ten years old. I snapped it up and settled in. It was a 1993 Fleetwood three bedroom mobile home with master bedroom in front, a kitchen, and a living room. Off the hall on the left side were a laundry room, bedroom, bathroom, and the third bedroom at the end of the hall. I couldn't pass it up, as I was living out of my truck half the time. I would stay at places like the Salvation Army shelter or move to any shelter available or rooming house. I never had a permanent home because I was never in one spot long enough. I heard about this deal from one of the other workers on the job we were working on over in Taylor.
The guy knew the kids and was trying to get word of mouth out to try to sell the place. The old man had kept the place up real good, the lot rent was like a hundred a month, and then utilities were another $200 a month. My own place for three hundred a month sounded great to me and I jumped on it. I now had a home.
I was spending a Saturday night dancing at the Copeland Inn down highway 95 in Copeland shortly after that, and that's when I met Denise Howard. I think it was three months later when I brought her home with me and we made love in my bedroom. That was all it took for me. We were married six months later, and Charity was born about ten months after that.
It was about a year later when Sam found me and hired me full time. I was now making almost $800.00 a week working for Sam, and that, plus Denise's money from her waitressing job allowed us to get by quite well. I now knew why her tips were so high. She said she made about $30 to $40 a day in tips working four days a week. She is making a hell of a lot more than that unless she is just giving it away for five bucks a pop. I wondered where it all was. Hell, I might never find out, but I did know one thing: I was through with that whoring bitch. I knew I couldn't afford a divorce, even if I could find out where all her money was stashed. I knew I would have to talk about all this with Sam again.
I fell asleep in my truck, pondering my mess of a marriage.
Salvador Garcia, a coworker of mine knocked on my truck window. I rolled the window down, "Yeah, Sal, what's up?"
"Boss wants to see you ASAP."
"Do you know what for?"
"Nope, he just said to look for your truck and to tell you to come right away if you were there. I was to find you if I didn't see you here. That's all I know."
"Thanks, Sal, see you later, I hope."
I walked into the site office trailer and I was immediately ushered into Sam's office by Becky Thompson, the clerk.
"Have a seat, Bob. You're working late tonight, so call Denise and let her know. You have no idea how late right now, okay?"
I called the truck stop restaurant and asked for Denise. It was important. I normally didn't call unless it was an emergency, so they knew something was up.
"Bob, Denise isn't available right now, I think she's in the bathroom, do you want me to have her call your work?"
"No, Brenda, I just wanted to let her know I have to work late tonight and I'm not sure when I'll get home. Would you tell her that?"
"Sure, I'll let her know, Bob. Bye."
"Yeah ... bye, Brenda."
I hung up and looked at Sam with a question on my face.
.... There is more of this story ...