First and foremost I want to thank PapaGus for his editing on this and sage advice. Speaking of advice, I want to give a special thanks to Jounar for giving me a sounding board early on in this one. This one is not loaded with sex so if you are looking for fap material, this likely won't do it. If you are looking for a good story, I hope this suits you and I thank you for reading it and for providing feedback.
The phone rang and startled me out of my World War 2 reverie. My wife of ten years was away for two weeks at her annual convention. Joy hates all things war, while I am a huge WW2 buff. I own every war movie ever made so to make life easier I only watch them when she is gone.
I usually get my fixes when she has a girls' night out or a Saturday shopping spree with her friend Amanda, but twice a year she leaves for an extended period of time. In August she has to go to Indianapolis for two weeks to attend corporate meetings and training sessions.
In February she goes to the company convention for two weeks. This year's convention was in Houston. The convention is special because only the top ten earners in each state get to attend and Joy has gone for the last three years.
Last year she called me on Sunday and told me pack a bag and meet her in Miami. It turned out that she had won a drawing and the prize was a week for two in Miami. Needless to say I wasn't too disappointed to spend a week of the cold Colorado winter in Sunny Florida.
Every other time she's gone I binge on war movies. So far that Saturday I had watched "The Dirty Dozen," "Enemy at the Gates," and "Saving Private Ryan." I had bought sandwich meat and hoagie rolls and a five gallon bucket of cheese balls. I had just made a sandwich and had started in on my "Band of Brothers" box set.
Just as the boys of Easy Company were losing their spaghetti lunch after running up Currahee the phone rang. Part of my mind was cursing this intrusion on my binge; the other part was hoping it was Joy calling to tell me she'd won some trip to a warm place. Hell at that point I would have settled for a week in Houston where it wasn't 12 below zero at night and in the 30's during the day.
The caller ID claimed the call was coming from an unknown caller. I immediately figured it was my long time buddy Paul. The bastard knew I was knee deep in war this weekend and didn't plan on going anywhere.
"What do you want fucker?"
To my surprise the voice on the phone was a woman. "Um, I am trying to reach Roger Rigby."
The person using my given name caught me off guard. Most people call me Zeke. "This is Roger. What can I do for you?"
"Mr. Rigby, this is Detective Desirae Phillips of the Vail PD and I am calling because your wife has been in an incident and is in Eagle Valley Medical Center. She's in pretty bad shape and you should probably come here as soon as you can."
"I think you are mistaken ma'am. My wife is in Houston for two weeks at her company's convention."
"Are you sure about that Mr. Rigby? When did you last talk to your wife?"
"She called me last evening after her meetings. She was getting ready to go to dinner with her colleagues."
The woman on the phone read me off the address listed on Joy's drivers' license. It was our address alright, but how could Joy's drivers' license be in Vail when Joy spoke to me from Houston? "Whomever you have in your hospital most likely stole my wife's purse at the airport. Can I file charges?"
"Yes you can. I'll run the victim's prints to find out who she is. In the meantime I'll need you to come up here to verify your wife's belongings and sign a complaint. But you do need to hurry and get here in case this is your wife sir. She needs care consents signed."
"I'll be there in a couple hours," I said. I really didn't want to go on a wild goose chase but I wanted to prosecute this woman if she'd used Joy's credit cards.
I threw a few clothes in my duffel just in case I wouldn't be back by morning and hit the snow packed highway. During the almost two hour drive to Vail, I played many questions and answers through my head.
So there were two possibilities. The first was that someone stole or found Joy's wallet and decided to go skiing. "Why would someone go skiing with stolen shit in their possession," my devil's advocate asked.
Criminals aren't the smartest fuckers so why wouldn't one take a pilfered wallet skiing? "Do pilferers ski?" How the fuck should I know?
"So that leads us to possibility number two. It IS Joy and she IS in Vail. Why is she skiing in Vail when she's supposed to be at her convention in Houston?"
She might have won a trip and decided to get in a few runs before she called me. She did beat me to Miami by a day. "What if she didn't want you in Vail?"
Why wouldn't she? Besides she's not in Vail she's in Houston. "How do you know?"
I talked to her last night. "Did you hear proof she was in Houston?"
Proof? "You know a dozen assholes sayin' y'all or a bunch of oil talk."
That's just stupid. "Did she call you from her cell or the hotel phone?"
She always calls from her cell. Why pay extra for a phone call? Besides, I dropped her off at the airport. "Did you see her get a boarding pass?"
No, I dropped her off and went to work. "Did you see her get on a plane? How do you really know she's in Houston?"
Well where the fuck else would she go? "Vail, obviously."
Come on. Who gets on a plane at the Colorado Springs Airport to fly to Houston Texas and then ends up in Vail Colorado? Vail is not in between Houston and Springs. "No shit Sherlock? Obviously someone flew her from Houston to Denver and drove her to Vail, or she never got on a plane in Springs and left directly for Vail."
It has to be an imposter. " ... An imposter, Scooby? Are we solving mysteries here?"
Fuck you! You know what I mean. Someone else stole her shit and got fucked up on Vail Mountain. "Why didn't Joy tell you she lost her shit?"
She doesn't know yet? She's embarrassed? I'm sure she has a good reason for not telling me. "Now who's being stupid?"
I'm stupid because I don't think my wife is getting some on the side? "No, that's being naïve. Stupid is trying to rationalize your naiveté against a voice in your head."
What evidence do I have that she's fucking around? "Other than she's in Vail when she's supposed to be in Houston?"
Yeah. Has she suddenly started dieting or working out? "No. She's always been in good shape."
Has she bought a bunch of new sexy clothes? "No. She still dresses like she always has."
Has she changed her hairstyle or her make-up? "No, she still looks like everyone in the 90's did. Dude you seriously need to bring her into this century."
She's not getting funny phone calls, she not acting sneaky and she hasn't denied me sex once. She doesn't have mood swings or any of the other telltale signs of cheating whorism. "Making up words doesn't prove your point, but you are correct. Being in Vail IS the only fishy thing."
So you admit she isn't fucking around? "I admit we don't know what the fuck is going on ... Yet. But yes Virginia there are cheating whores out there."
As I began descending the pass and looking for the exit that lead to Vail I asked myself one last question: "What if it is her and she is fucking around?"
Simple. I'll jettison the cunt. I have no room in my life for an unfaithful piece of shit that can't keep her legs closed.
"That's kind of rash isn't it? You have been married to her for ten years." True, but Elton Rigby didn't raise any pussies.
"He sure knew how to handle a cheating cunt." Yeah right.
My mom had been acting weird for a while. I was only ten at the time, but I knew she wasn't right. She spent a lot of evenings out with her friends, and my dad always seemed agitated. One afternoon when they thought I was at a friend's house she confessed to him that she'd been sleeping with her boss.
Dad threw her out of the house and she moved in with my grandma for a while. We kids got to see her every weekend, but dad insisted that we weren't going to be exposed to her lifestyle.
After several months they patched things up and mom moved back in, but it was never the same. Dad worried himself sick every time she would be more than a few minutes late from work. He finally made her quit her job and find something else.
If she went out for an evening with her friends, she had to check in or dad would call whichever bar they were at and ask if she was there. I swore to myself I would never live that way. Mom and dad stayed together until I graduated high school and then they divorced. Neither of them could live that way.
Dad had been a top notch detective until he found out about mom's affair. "What kind of cop can I be if she pulled that shit under my nose?" he asked me one night in a drunken stupor. It didn't take long for it to affect his job performance. He received an early pension after he had a nervous breakdown.
I rarely speak to my mother these days. In many ways I am sure it's because of her that my dad died. My mother had killed him inside, and it just took a while for him to succumb. Sure the doctors used big words, like leukemia, but that cheating whore might as well have given him aids.
I won't end up like my dad, letting a whore sap the life out of me. "Just don't end up like your fucking brother."
.... There is more of this story ...