Again special thanks to Editor Dave T, who for reasons, only God knows, continues 'the-root-canal- without-anesthetic 'like experience of trying to make my chicken scratch resemble something readable. All and any errors are mine.
"Seriously? You are firing me? You have got to be kidding."
My soon to be ex-boss was sweating a bit around the bald spot on his head as he stared at my wife Mary and me in the back office of his restaurant.
"Job, look I am sorry, but business is business. I am confident traffic will pick up once more word gets around about Chef H.P. Charles."
I was still in a state of shock. "Oh so I see now. You are letting me go so you can keep that fool in the Kitchen."
My boss raised his hands in a hapless gesture. "Chef H.P. Charles is like my star player. We all know Chefs are the Rock Stars that bring clients into the restaurant today. I had to cut someplace."
I could not hide the disgust in my voice. "You act like ole Charley is Gordon Ramsey or Wolfgang Puck."
Mary gripped my hand. "Well Job, he did have his own cooking show..."
"You mean that reality show flop," I interrupted "that did not even last a full season on the internet."
My boss got flustered as he defended his money hole. "Chef H.P. Charles show had a nice following..."
"And a cook book" my wife added.
"Wonderful." I said dryly "Dr. Seuss had a cookbook too. I do not see many patrons filling our tables to order the famous Green Eggs and Ham."
The boss held out an envelope to me. "When Chef H.P. turns this around we can look at maybe bringing you back. Chef HP Charles has talent. Hiring him is the most foolproof way I know to bring in a new base."
I shook my head. "Nothing is foolproof to a sufficiently talented fool."
He winced. "I know this is hard, but I bumped up Mary's rate a bit to help."
Mary my wife squeezed my hand as I took the final paycheck. Married for all of 6 years she was the assistant Chef in the restaurant we both worked at, or rather had both worked at. The owner was a pudgy trust fund baby who liked to watch cooking shows and figured he would open and run a restaurant. In reality he could not run up a flight of stairs, let alone a restaurant.
Mary in all truth was the heart of the kitchen. She had always wanted to be a big time Chef. Mary had worked her way up through a series of eating establishments working in the Industry since she was 16. However to rise in restaurants in today's market, you needed the star power of a known Chef in your kitchen. Mary's single mom could never afford any of the cooking schools, either here or abroad that seemed to groom todays "Rock Star" cooks.
I tried to help out. All our vacations were "working vacations". A dairy and cheese seminar in Wisconsin, wine methods and matters in Napa valley, seafood from net to plate techniques in Maine. Even our honeymoon was spent tramping through olive gardens in Italy learning about virgin, extra virgin and dozens of grades of olive oil. Not that I am complaining, the grub from these events had me fighting to keep my waist size constant.
Mary on the other hand never seemed to gain an ounce, a rarity in most any Chef. Mostly it was a combination of her metabolism and fanatical workout schedule. I know Mary had a secret fantasy of hosting her own cooking show and did not want to be the "fat" female chef. So she always kept herself in shape for that magic phone call, which so far had not come.
Again, I am not complaining her metabolism and workout routine were a bonus to me. Many would say Mary was average in looks; if that were true I would take average and regular with Mary any day and twice on Sunday. Which coincidentally was about the frequency of our love life. Again I am not complaining with neither frequency nor quality.
Mary squeezed my hand as I accepted my final paycheck while the Boss continued "Job, you will bring Pablo up to speed on everything won't you?"
I was about to tell him to Fuck Off. The nerve of this rich prick not only replacing me with a exploited low cost illegal, but wanting me to train him to be my replacement.
I sat back in the chair. "You want I have Pablo handle the waitresses and kitchen help that ole Chef Charley keeps banging two at a time. You do know that is just a sexual harassment suit waiting to happen."
My soon to be Ex boss waved his hand. "This is the restaurant biz. Passions run high."
I bit my tongue as Mary spoke "Don't worry, I will handle Chef H.P. He is pretty much all talk, just trying to impress the kitchen staff. If he had done a quarter of what he claimed, this place would not have a single female on staff."
Mary squeezed my hand again to stop me from talking as she pulled me up out of my chair.
The ride home was animated.
"I really thought Pablo was gonna walk out," Mary said tuning the car radio to my favorite station.
I had to suppress a grin at Mary's action, as the selection of music was a daily battle for us. A truce was reached were I got my station on the drive into work and she got the trip home. Mary giving me her "turn" was a major concession.
"Pablo is a very proud man and protective of his friends and family," I replied.
Everyone knew Pablo's story. He had fled a violence-filled drug town in Central America with his wife and two small children. Trekking all the way to the border, he had fought off gangs, and predators, and led a small band to safety after the smugglers had left the group to perish in the desert with no water.
I rubbed my eyes before continuing. "That asswipe of a boss really boxed me in. He knows I can't let the restaurant fail because all we have is one paycheck now and he also knows I won't screw over Pablo."
Mary shook her head. "Pablo is the hardest working guy there. If he left, every one of the kitchen staff would follow him. He is like the Godfather of that back room. I am glad you convinced him you would be fine and everyone needed the job for their family. Especially Pablo, his wife is expecting again. Now Job, I know you will land on your feet, you are the best prep chef around."
For those of you not in the "biz", if the Chef is the heart of the kitchen, the prep chef is the "brains". The prep chef makes sure everything from salads to chopped onions are ready to go. The Prep Chef makes sure the Head Chefs order of fresh seafood is really "fresh", quality is what was received from suppliers, and all the ingredients are in stock as needed. Just as any Army is only as good as its NCOs, any restaurant is only as good as its prep chefs.
"Well Mary, I am not worried about Pablo because I am not married to Pablo. I am worried about you, because I am married to you."
Mary gave me a light punch on my shoulder. "Don't tell me you are jealous of Chef H.P. Charles!" She laughed "He is a blowhard, but Chef H.P. Charles does have some chops. Do you know the school he went to in France? The people he knows? Places he has been to?"
I made a gagging sound. "Oh please Mary that fry cook is a poser and you run rings around him. Also, please stop calling that fool 'Chef', like he has a Doctorate in medicine and cures cancer in babies."
Mary sighed as she spoke. "I know you do not care for H.P. but I could learn a lot from him."
Again I made gagging sounds. "You must enlighten me on some pearls of his wisdom. This is a man who asked why there is an expiration date on sour cream."
"Job, be nice. We both know Chef H.P. Charles is a narcissist. But you have to be to get to where he is. It is like a disease with him."
"Great, everything that used to be a sin is now a disease. One nice thing about egotists: they don't talk about other people."
Mary ignored me and continued. "For example he told me I should go by 'T Mary II' not just plain Mary."
I shook my head. "T Mary II? Sounds like a drywall bolt from the hardware store or a new robot in the Terminator movie."
Mary punched me in the shoulder again. "Job, you know darn well my first name is Theresa. Mary is my middle name and everyone called me Mary so not be confused with my mom. Besides Mary is such a common boring name."
I suppose ole Charley told you that."
Mary shrugged. "You know how everyone gabs in the kitchen when it is not busy."
"Yes, the kitchen, or restaurant for that matter, has not been very busy. Where are the throngs of hungry followers' ole Charley was going to bring in?"
Mary sighed before answering. "Well, our catering has picked up."
"Mary, the catering side was starting to thrive before his highness H.P. Charles come onto the scene to hog all the credit. We both know catering only took off due to your food and Pablo and his crew busting their ass making everything work. The trouble with doing something right the first time is that nobody appreciates how difficult it was."
I played my trump card. "Let's look at this as an opportunity. Screw all of them. Ever since the day you started watching Julia Childs on PBS TV you have wanted to attend a fancy cooking school. Let's ditch that McMansion and your status Lexus and have you go to the school of your dreams."
Mary was biting her lip. "Job, did you hit the lottery and not tell me? Last I checked our bank account was looking low."
"Mary, I'll cash out my retirement account, we'll take a student loan, whatever it takes. This is an investment in you, in us."
"You wanna go to school too?"
"Hell No! This is your dream I wanna make true. You know I can always find something to do, carpentry, plumbing, I'll work at a Paris McDonalds if I have to."
Mary was still chewing her lip deep in thought, but did not answer.
Well I was wrong. Turns out you can be the best prep chef on earth, but if there are no openings; you better find something else to do. This was not really a problem, my parents had drummed into me from an early age that there was always work for someone willing to work. Even today I can hear my fathers voice :
"Son, there are two types of people in the world. Those that work and contribute, and those that suck off the work of others. There is no job, no work that is beneath you ... except maybe a member of Congress. Them damn bloodsuckers are the worst kind of parasites on any society."
His words had a twinge of irony as both he and my mother were later killed in an auto accident by the drunk son of our Congressmen. Naturally in the ways of the world the Congressman's drunk son got off with a misdemeanor and reckless driving when the blood results and resulting paperwork somehow went missing. Of course it was probation with some community service and no jail time. The insurance payout barely covered the funeral expenses. Coincidently the next year a federal grant came through that provided new squad cars for the township Police Department as well as renovation of the courthouse and judges' chambers.
So anyway I did what I did best and hustled for any task that paid. Delivery of lost luggage from the airport, pizza delivery, clean up after the county fair, whatever; if it paid, I did it.
When I was not hustling for a dollar, I was working on the house. A McMansion we picked up in a distressed foreclosure sale, this was a monster that Mary "just had to have" and was the proverbial money pit. It seemed I was rebuilding the damn place from the ground up. After adding in what we paid and what we had spent so far, I think maybe we were breaking even. Looking at the work to be done left me wondering if we were ever going to get our money out of the place. We had been making good money when we bought this wreck, now all our savings and every paycheck got swallowed into this place. We were in the worst of both worlds, a house we could not afford or get rid of, and minimal bank funds.
I kept these concerns to myself as Mary was really stressed out at the restaurant. The past 10 months since I had been booted had not been good. I know she was really trying, even using the ridiculous name T Mary II in an attempt to stir up business. Many times Mary came home almost in tears.
"Damn it Job, I do not know how much of this I can take. Another waitress quit today."
I shook my head and Mary scowled at me "Yes, I know you warned me about Chef H P Charles, but it has gotten worse since HP Charles took over the food inventory from Pablo. That idiot keeps ordering wrong crap and the vendors are ripping us off left and right. We ran out of salt last night for Gods sake. How the hell does a restaurant run out of salt?"
I tried to be sympathic, but had to bite my tongue and not say "I told you so."
Mary was on a venting roll. "I am just getting so sick of playing little Miss Diplomat in that place."
"Mary, diplomacy is saying "nice doggy" until you find a big enough rock."
Mary kept on as if I had not spoken. "Plus that damn Italian car of HP Charles is always in the shop and he thinks I am his personal chauffer."
Now I shook my head. "What does ole Charley expect from a Fiat? Everyone knows Fiat stands for "Fix It Again Tony.'"
Mary kicked off her shoes. "I worry Pablo is gonna walk out every day."
"So Mary, Pablo and Charley still not playing nice?"
Mary gave me a dirty look "Ever since HP tried hitting on that new cute young Hispanic dishwasher and Pablo put a knife to Chef HP Charles groin it has been like Jets and Sharks in the kitchen."
I could not help laughing "Did Charley really think Pablo was gonna put up with him perving on his goddaughter?"
Mary threw up her hands. "It is not all HP Charles fault, half the Hispanic community in this town is Pablo's goddaughter."
"Gee, Mary, you think maybe ole Charley could keep his hands in the kitchen and maybe leave the barely legal help alone?"
"Job, he is under a lot of stress. Even our catering business has taken a hit."
I was surprised at that bit of info. "Really? I thought that was the one jewel still shining."
Mary made a face before answering. "It was. Then we started getting complains about Chef HP Charles at the events. Seems the hosts did not care for him walking around mingling with the guests. Apparently what works with patrons sitting at the tables in our building, is not a great idea at a catered event."
"Ole Chaley must have been thrilled at that news."
Mary gave me that look that ever husband knows. "Job, stop it please. I am having a hard enough time as it is."
I rubbed her back. "Mary look, ole Charley has a multi-year contract, so he is not going anywhere. You on the other hand should cut your losses and get out." I turned Mary around to face me. "I know you have the application for that cooking school in Paris in a folder on your laptop. You are not some 17 year old gofer in the backroom of a chop shop anymore. You can hold you own with the best of any Chef. Pull the trigger, you know I got your back."
In answer Mary hugged me tight. But I never got a 'Yes'.
A few weeks later I was plastering the guest room when my phone rang.
"Job, this is Pablo. I need favor from you."
"Sure Pablo, what can I do for you?" I answered as I wiped off my hands.
In heavily accented English Pablo said "We at a catering job, but left a tub of prep at the restaurant. I know you still got key. Can you bring it here? I make sure you get paid."
"Pablo, those are the magic words. What is the address?"
"Job, I text you the address. Just bring it to the truck OK?"
It was the middle of the afternoon when I got to the place, and the weather was just starting to turn cold.
"This was most likely the last outdoor catering event for a while," I thought as I carried the aluminum tray towards the step van parked in the driveway of an upscale home.
The step van had a side window that allowed it to double as a food truck. For some reason all our workers were gathered around the step vans side window. A bunch of the guys were holding their cell phones to the one way glass.
"Que pasa, amigos? Where is Pablo at?"
The workers looked up in surprise, most uttered something in Spainish and they all started to slink away from the truck.
However it was me that got the surprise when I looked in through the window.
Chef HP Charles had Mary bent over the counter. Her lower half was completely naked and her oversize Chefs apron was flipped up over her back exposing a portion of her lower back.
HP Charles was thrusting vigorously into Marys' shapely ass as he butt fucked her. All the while slapping her bare buttocks with one hand and waving at the one way glass with the other hand. Ole Charley was also making faces at what he thought was his audience on the other side of the window.
"Take it all you bitch!" He yelled pumping into Mary. "You LOVE getting stuffed with my Grade A prime meat!"
I was stunned as if hit by a pole ax. My brain refused to see what images the eyes were sending. Any doubt about the anal recipient of HP Charles cock was dispelled when he grabbed Marys' hair and pulled her face off the counter, yanking Marys' head back as he ground deep circles into her ass with his groin when he bottomed out in her butt. Marys' eyes were closed and she was breathing heavily while moans through parted lips were punctuated by an occasional grunt as Charles thrusted his pelvis.
HP Charles addressed the window without stopping his ass fuck of my wife. "Get your cameras ready Amigos, here comes the big finish! Watch this slut is gonna take it on the face and then suck me clean!"
I pulled open the window. "Hey Charley, make sure to wash your hands when you are done with that cum dump. I hear the health inspector is gonna come around today."
HP stopped in mid stroke as Mary whipped her face around at the sound of my voice. She pulled frantically away, but it was too late. HP's dick made an audible "pop" as it come out of her asshole and started spurting on Mary's back, as well as on the prepared desserts on the truck counter.
I felt faint. "Mary, please don't bring any of your leftovers home this time. In fact please don't come home at all, EVER!"
Spinning on my heel I began a slow trot toward my car when I realized I was still holding the aluminum tray full of food prep. Passing HP Charles Fiat, I opened the door and dumped it all in his driver's side seat.
I do not remember driving home, I do not remember opening the front door. I do not remember going outside onto the back porch or sitting in the chair. The next thing I can recall is a ringing phone and Pablo's voice.
"How long have you known Pablo?"
"Job, this is first I know of puta wife Mary. Crew tell me that Chef been bragging. Of course that man full of shit, no one believe him. Crew make fun of him. Chef claim today he put on a show to prove who is stud of kitchen. That is why I call you to come. If not true, no worry. I sorry it be true."
"I am sorry I threw away your prep tub Pablo."
Pablo let out a laugh. "Who cares? Puta wife Mary try to take Chef toy car and follow you. Fucking toy car no start. What kind of car not start because of sliced onions? Crew no give Mary ride, she finally call Uber car."
Just then I heard the front door open.
"Gotta go Pablo, looks like the chicken has come home to roost."
"Cut that bait Job. I got lots of nice Hispanic ladies for you. Smart as whips, hot as hell in bed, plus loyal to man and fierce as wild dogs around family."
"Thanks, Pablo, I'll keep that in mind." I said as I disconnected the call and Mary walked through the sliding glass door onto the back porch.
We stood staring at each other. Mary's makeup was a mess and her eyes were red. She moved her lips a few times but no words came out. I got bored with the staring contest and started to check the email on my smart phone. Seems like I had gotten quite a few messages in the past hour.
"JOB, LOOK AT ME!"
I sighed before looking up at her. "Yeah Mary? What am I supposed to be looking at? Because all I see is a cheating slut."
Mary stood still, shocked by my words for a moment before she gathered herself to speak. "Job, it was not what it looked like..."
While she was speaking I opened one of the attachments on an email and held the phone up to Mary with the clip playing at full volume. The screen was facing Mary so I could not see the video, but the audio was clear enough with Chef HP Charles booming voice "That's it slut, moan for me! You like it hard up the ass bitch. Tell me what you want or I'll skip the olive oil and fuck your tight ass dry."
Mary snatched the phone out of my hand just as you could hear her on screen voice come over the speaker. "Give it to ME! FUCK MY ASS! Cum up my butt, you know I need it! Ahhhhh..."
Mary tried in vain to shut off the video as the pornographic audio kept going. Finally in frustration she pulled the battery out of the phone and threw both the phone and battery at me.
"That is disgusting!" she cried putting her hands over her ears. "Please delete that awful scene immediately."
"Really?" I asked putting my phone back together. "Does not look like you felt that way at the time. Besides I couldn't delete it even if I wanted to. That was a link to a website. My Spainish is pretty poor but it looks like blond-cook-gringo-ass-sluts-dot-com, and your viewing hits seem to be piling up by all the emails I am getting."
Mary dropped into the chair next to and grabbed my arm. "Job, please listen to me. What I am about to say is the truth the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Everything just spiraled out of control, but I did it for us."
"No shit?" I said dryly removing her hand from my arm. "Because I don't ever recall ever getting to screw your behind. In fact you were quite insistent the back door was a firm NO GO zone in all respects."
She took a breath to control herself. "It was never meant to happen. What is done is done, no use crying over spilt milk..."
"Or busted cherries." I added.
Job, please you must let me put the whole story out."
"Looks to me like you already 'put out', so why bother with some sad tall tale?"
Mary ignored my comment and kept talking. "It started when I had to drive Chef HP Charles when his car was in the shop."
"Damn Mary, I would think ole Charley getting to fuck your ass makes you intimate enough that he could at least let you call him 'H'."
She looked away, but did not stop speaking. "He had me drive him to a fertility clinic. The asswipe was getting paid for his semen."
"Wow, really? That means I have been letting a fortune slip through my fingers all these years."
Mary took a deep breath. "Celebrities get a pretty good rate for their ... samples." I started to get up but Mary put her hands on my thighs. "Job, stay this is where it got crazy and stupid."
"So Mary, the butt fuck in the truck was the wise and intelligent part?"
"HP thought that it was unfair he did all the work and the clinic was getting all the money. So he set up his own web site and started ... um selling directly to the consumer."
"You were what? His hands on assistant? His on your hands and knees assistant?"
"NO! Not at first. I just kept the books and payment straight for a cut. I so wanted to go to that cooking school in France, but I never wanted to use your money. This was a quick way for some extra income. It was all so harmless."
She looked down at her hands. "Then HP stared to have ... um difficulty. I a ... um ... helped him out ... all it took was a peek of my breasts or a flash of my crotch to get him back to action."
"Mary, please stop I am going to hurl."
"Job, I swear to God it is true! I so wanted the school and what was a little flash here or there. No harm no foul. Plus I insisted on a bigger cut."
I shook my head. "This is possibly the WORST bedtime story ever."
"I should have stopped when HP needed more ... stimulation. But in for a penny, in for a pound, I just convinced myself the hand jobs were no more erotic than rubbing a chicken leg. I felt nothing, but then..."
"Wait." I held up my hand. "I wanna finish this fairy tale. Let me guess, ole Charley talked you into a blow job. But you did not swallow and it accidently ended up all over your face."
Mary was staring at me like I had magical powers.
"Then a few days later ole Charley or Chef HP Charles, as you like to call him, showed you a video of the blow job and him cumming all over your face. I bet during the event there were even enthusiastic words of encouragement on both your parts."
Mary was gasping like a fish out of water. "It was all talk Job. Just talk so he would get off faster."
I held up a finger. "Then comes the big 'B' as in blackmail. Ole Charley wants more or he was going to make you an internet star and I was going to get my own private copy. That about right."
"Oh my God! How ... how did you know?"
"Fuck Mary, that is the plot in about a zillion bad porno movies and half of the literotica type web site stories. Next you are going to tell me how you made a deal to get the video back and I was never going to find out."
Her face was white as she nodded her head. "It was like negotiating a really bad deal. He wanted full access for two months. I was trying to get away with a couple of blow jobs."
"You must suck as a negotiator Mary, and I mean that literally, because you definitely ended up getting the shitty end of his stick."
Mary missed my double meaning entirely as she put her head in her hands. "I had to suck that prick off four times, but I never gave him my pussy; that was and is always yours. I never agreed to any anal. But today in the truck that fuckwad reneged, he had the video loaded and was going to press 'send' to your email if I did not bend over right at that minute."
"Seriously Mary? That is the story you are going to stick with? Remember I have your boisterous encouragement from your fan clubs video."
"All talk, all talk Job, to get him to finish. I did not even know anyone was watching. I just was trying to block the whole event out of my mind," Mary looked frantic. "Can't you do something? This is going to ruin us,"
"I am doing something," I said fishing car keys out of my pocket. "I am going to work, please don't be here when I get back."
Now hindsight is 20/20 and truth be told I should have stayed home, and had I known then what I know now, you can bet I would have kept my happy ass home, even if that slur err wife was still there.
But hey, there were bills to pay and as I looked at being single again, someone had to make money. Besides who else was going to deliver the pizzas? The drizzle that was developing into a downpour matched my gloomy disposition.
However, as you can guess I was distracted, because if I had not been so distracted I would have not been concentrating so hard on timing the green lights and been more aware of a semi-truck trying to make a yellow light that had long since turned red.
Screeching tires, the busting glass, the sound of twisting metal, and then as the song said "Boom Boom! Out go the Lights..."
It is so cliché to say you woke up to beeping machines in a hospital, but that was just what woke me up. My throat was parched, my mouth dry as a desert. A plastic pitcher with melting ice chips and cup were on the side table. However when I tried to move, a mass of tubes in my left arm held me captive. My left hand also had a baseball mitt size cast of plaster on it. Meanwhile my right leg was suspended in some type of cable and pulley contraception.
The flush of a toilet was followed by running water and the door of a bathroom off the left side of the bed opened. Pablo emerged, a big smile popped up on his face when he saw me staring at him.
"Hello my friend!" Pablo saw me motioning at container of water and he swiftly grabbed the pitcher of water with ice chips and poured liquid into the cup, adding a straw before handing it to me.
"Job, you must drink slow." Pablo said, as he picked a corded device off my bedside and pressed a button. "I call hospital people to let them know you awake. How you feel?"
I drank all the water quickly, and coughed before handing the cup back to him. "Well Pablo I feel like I got hit by a truck." I motioned at my suspended leg. "I lose my job, lose my wife and now a broken leg. Could my life get any worse?"
Pablo got a grim look on his face. "I am sorry about your leg Job."
"Well I was never that great a dancer anyway, but then I always did dance like a white man. My other foot hurts like hell, I hope the Doc brings better pain meds..."
"Job..." Pablo interrupted and pointed to the end of my bed.
I followed Pablo's finger, under the bedsheets below my left knee where a lump should be for my calf ankle and foot there was ... nothing!
I whipped off the sheets. Below my left knee, about halfway down my calf was nothing but a bandaged stump.
"WHERE THE FUCK IS MY FOOT!!"
Pablo made calming motions toward me, as frantic beeping sounds began emitting from various monitors "Job, please calm down. I seen your truck, it looks like a smashed beer can ripped into little pieces. You a lucky man to be alive."
Just then a Doctor in a white coat walked thru the door and began touching various machines to silence their noise. "Listen to your friend. It is a miracle you are in one piece and only God knows why you didn't bleed out."
I pointed at my missing appendage. "It doesn't look like much of a FUCKING miracle to me!"
The Doctor started pressing buttons on a nearby device hooked into my left arm. "I am going to up your pain meds here, and the button by your bedside will allow you to control the flow to a limited amount. But if you do not calm down I am going to have the staff keep you sedated."
I was fuming, my anger fighting the flow of medication. "Easy for you to say Doc. You are not the cripple who is going to be gimping around to 'Hop In' jokes for the rest of your life."
Pablo had a strange look on his face as he gripped my right hand. "Job, with most respect I say to you 'Macho up', you not a 'Marica'. Many men in my village to get into this country would give both legs to be in your shoes."
"You mean my one shoe now Pablo?" I said as the painkiller numbed my brain into a comfortable cocoon.
When I next opened my eyes sunlight was steaming through the curtains. It had been almost a week since that day in the room with Pablo. I had transitioned through the seven stages of grief associated with loss of a limb. I had come to terms, but was NOT a happy camper.
Hearing a sound I turned my head to see Mary standing in the doorway.
Job, can I come in?" she asked.
I still had a slight buzz as I pointed at my plaster casted leg and missing foot. "It's not like I can kick you out can I?"
Mary forced a smile to her face and walked nervously into my room, taking a seat in the only chair.
"Job, I am so sorry..."
"I've been here over a week Mary. You were so sorry this is the first time you decided to visit? Why bother at all?"
Mary fumbled with her hands. "I was just so scared, and confused ... after you know ... everything and my future."
"Sorry Mary, I have been busy trying to stay alive while having body parts removed. So you do understand if your future was not my primary concern."
Mary bit her lip. " I ... I ... do not know what to say. I made a mistake, nothing I can do about it now, but just say I am sorry." She looked at me defiantly "Don't tell me you never made a mistake."
I tried unsuccessfully to sit up in the bed. "Oh I made a HUGE mistake some years ago when I married a women I loved who turned out to be a cheating cum dump slut."
Mary filched at my words. "Job, I can only say I am sorry, but that does not change the past. I am talking now about the future." She leaned forward to garb the bed railing. "Let's do what you said before, go to Paris! I'll enroll in the cooking school. We will make a fresh start, a complete 'Do Over', be like newlyweds. We got no future here, you know Pablo and almost the entire kitchen staff quit. We can leave as soon as you recover and get back on your feet."
"You mean 'foot' Mary?"
She blushed. "You know what I mean. We should have done this long ago, let's not delay any longer."
"All on my dime Mary? You cheat and get a free trip to Paris, plus Tuition at a world class school? Quite the reward for your adulteress actions."
"No, No Job, not your 401 K money." Mary said standing up. "We'll use proceeds from the sale of the house."
"House isn't worth shit yet. What fool is gonna pay what we own on it, plus enough to turn a profit?"
Mary clapped her hands. "Chef HP Charles said he would buy it. He is even gonna pay more then what the realtor said the house is worth..." she stopped on seeing the look on my face. " ... um ... ah Chef HP Charles really, really liked the renovations you did on the bathroom in master bedroom."
"Tell me Mary, how ole Charley know what the Master bedroom or its bathroom looked like."
I got my answer as her face turned beet red. "Job, it's not what you think. Nothing happened. It was nothing at all, not any sex."
I shook my head. "Mary, your definition of 'nothing' and 'it' and 'sex' bear a remarkable resemblance to the same meaning as used by the former President Bill 'I did not have sex with that women' Clinton."
"Job, you got to believe me!"
"I do not 'got to' do anything but pay taxes and die Mary, I mean T Mary II or is there another name you go by now? You seemed fond when he called you 'Bitch, Slut, Cum Dump' are these your new monikers, or is that just ole Charley's pet name for you?"
"Damn it Job! I told you the reason..."
"Save it Mary, or T Mary, or 2nd hole Mary, or whatever you call yourself now. But just like you can call a turd a rose and it is still turd, a cheating cum dump slut is still a cheating cum dump slut no matter what the title." I held up my pain pump control. "Now if you excuse me I am going to take a couple of shots so I do not die from the pain."
Mary got that pissed off look in her face. "DAMM IT JOB! If you do not stop getting buzzed and talk to me right now! I am leaving."
The meds started to take effect. "You are God damn liar Mary. Because I am buzzed as hell and you are still here."
I think I heard Mary shout "We are DONE! I am not coming back!" as I retreated back in the opiate haze.
Well Mary kept her word and I did not hear from her for several days. However I did meet her process server who gave me divorce papers. It looked like something printed off an anti-man internet website, because she asked for everything except my remaining right foot.
Even though I had been weaning myself off the pain meds, I still got a chuckle out of Mary's demands for what amounted to lifelong servitude in her divorce demands.
"Can't get blood from a turnip" I thought as I tossed the papers toward the trash can. Of course I missed the tiny trash bin and they landed at the feet of someone wearing a pair of Italian loafers.
I looked up from the shoes past the custom suit into the face of none other than Chef H. P. Charles!
"How you doing Pal?" He said walking into the room like he owned the place.
I heard the heart monitor above my bed spike as I fought to control myself. "With all due respect Charley." I saw him wince. "Please just "Piss Off' and get the fuck out of here." I grabbed the nurse call button and pressed it to summon the night nurse on duty.
Chef HP Charles just chuckled "Pretty big talk to make for a man who has to stick his dick into a bottle to pee." He said, pointing at the urine bottle clipped to my bed railing the night nurse had yet to empty.
"Unlike me," he continued "because I like to stick my dick into a warm female form. Pussy, mouth and ass, I always go for the lady trifecta."
"Apparently Charley you have a hearing problem. You have been across the pond, so I am sure you understand what 'Piss Off' means."
"Slow down Job. After all, we have a lot of common interests and share a lot together. You know, love of fine food, good wine, Mary's body ... although I understand I still have you beat when it comes to her former tight virgin ass."
"Your right Charley, I revise my statement. Both you and the slut can 'piss off'."
HP Charles just laughed. "Come on Job, we are both men of the world, spend a lot of time in the kitchen trenches. You know how the ladies can't keep their aprons on. Besides your wife fucks as bad as she cooks. You should be thanking me for taking her off your hands for a while."
He sat down in the chair. "I don't know why, but if you still want her, I'll send her back a little worse for wear, but with some new tricks. Now, how about we close a deal on your house? A win-win for everyone! The dumb cunt learns to fuck and cook, so both you and she benefit, in return I'll buy the house."
He stepped up to the bed railing and pointed at my legs. "It's not like you are going to be able to run around in a house that big anymore. I'll even toss in a few grand for the crappy furniture. I'll need it until my custom made stuff gets here."
He winked at me. "I already like the king size bed you have in the master bedroom."
Now I was the one getting pissed off as I thought "Where the fuck was the night nurse!"
He had a smug look on his face. "Job, face it you got 'defeated'. Get it? Defeeted ... Ha ha. But seriously you also need to call off that wetback pal of yours and his mariachi band."
"What the fuck are you talking about?" I said.
"Your south of border buddy Pablo. He told your old squeeze Mary to stay out of the house. He implied how dangerous it could be for a single female alone. Fucking spic said that break ins and home invasion robberies are tragically common in even the best neighborhood. Look, I don't mind fucking her but this bunking at my place is not my style, I prefer to hump them, pump them and dump them."
I kept pressing the call button for the night nurse.
HP Charles looked back toward the door before speaking in a loud whisper. "Maybe you want to see what the kitchen stud looks like, see what Mary got in her taste test." He unzipped his fly and fished the penis out, shaking his dick around to get it hard before sticking the erect manhood through the bed railing. "Go on touch it pussyboy, you know you want to, just like that bitch slut of a cum dump you call a wife."
I stared at his junk inches from my hand. Fact is Chef HP Charles was right, I did want to touch him in the worst way.