Chapter 1

I parked a couple of rows back and about a dozen spaces over from my wife’s car, with an unobstructed view of the front door to the Happy Life Yoga Studio. I watched her enter the building, dressed in a pair of skin-tight, pink Lululemon exercise pants and matching bare-midriff top that looked more like a sports bra than an outer garment. She bounced happily, and empty-handed, as she went inside. She apparently didn’t need the bag of clothes and the water bottle that she’d put in the trunk after all.

I waited.

It didn’t take long.

About five minutes after she when in, Jude, my wife of twenty-two years came walking back out. She wasn’t alone. He was with her.

Marcel Beaufils, self-proclaimed Yogi and head of the Happy Life Yoga Studio walked arm-in-arm with my loving wife. I hated him. I’d hated him from the first moment I’d laid eyes on him. Actually, I probably hated him before that, just from having to listen to Jude ramble on, incessantly, about how great he was.

Jude held Marcel’s arm with both hands and leaned her head on his shoulder. Even from this distance, I could see the smiles on their faces as they reached her car. He got in the passenger side, and Jude got in to drive. I watched her start the car and exit the parking lot, heading in the direction of the freeway. I let them get far enough ahead so that they would not see me following, then headed out after them. I didn’t have to stay in sight. The GPS tracker gave me constant and accurate updates of their location.

I was disappointed, but not completely surprised when Jude pulled into the parking lot of the Marriott Hotel. Well, at least if she was going to cheat on me, she was not doing it in a fleabag motel. They parked and exited the vehicle, then embraced briefly. Marcel went to kiss my wife, but she turned her head, and his lips struck her cheek. Jude looked apprehensive. I’m sure she was blushing.

Marcel had my wife’s hand and was leading her to the main entrance of the hotel, but Jude was not following him. She seemed to be pulling him back, hesitating. Was she having second thoughts?

They stood close together, talking animatedly. Jude used her hands a lot when she was nervous. I hadn’t seen her hands moving that much since she had to give a speech at the monthly PTA meeting last April. She gestured off to her right. Marcel nodded, and the two would-be lovebirds entered the attached restaurant, instead of the hotel proper.

I gave them a few minutes to get settled; then I made my way into the Hotel lobby. I checked the place out, looking for all the entrances and exits, where people were working, and making a mental note of the location of security cameras. I walked down a corridor on the right side of the foyer that led past a convenience store and the business center.

I hesitated when I reached the end of the hallway and the entrance to the restaurant. It stood open, with a small, unattended podium for a hostess station. Given it was three o’clock in the afternoon, the place was pretty empty, so I didn’t expect to see anyone manning the checkpoint. There was a small notice taped to the front of the stand that read “Seat yourself.”

I looked carefully around the doorway for any signage. Nothing stood out. By law, if the establishment made at least 51% of its revenue from the sale of alcohol, they were required to put a sign up at every entrance stating so. There wasn’t one. Out of habit, my hand patted the hard metallic object held under my sports coat.

I scanned the dining room. An older gentleman was sipping on a cup of coffee, reading the sports page. A young Hispanic couple with an infant were eating burgers on the next row over. As I said, the place was pretty empty. When I reached the middle of the room, a server came out from the swinging doors that led to the kitchen, wiped her hands on her apron and approached me.

“Hi, just one?” she asked with a painted-on smile.

“Actually,” I replied, “I’m meeting some friends for drinks.” I gestured to the small lounge area by the bar. The server nodded and went to check on one of the diner’s needs. I drifted towards the bar and saw them huddled close together in a booth, with their backs to me. I walked slowly to their table. As I drew closer, I could start to hear bits of their conversation.

“You know you want to touch it,” Marcel said with his fake French accent. “You know your husband does not have anything like this.”

Jude was sitting close to the wall with Marcel pressed to her side. He had his arm around her shoulder, and she was leaning against him.

“Oh my God,” Jude exclaimed, “I’ve never felt one that big before. I don’t know if I’m ready to...”

“Ready to what?” I asked as I sat down next to Marcel shoving him over to make room for me, and trapping them both inside the booth.

“Hey! What the fuck!” Marcel blurted out as he quickly turned to see who had intruded on his seduction. I found it humorous that in his excitement, he lost his accent. When he saw me, he also lost all the color in his face, and his eyes bugged out. Jude jerked her hand from Marcel’s lap and covered her mouth as she let out a small shriek.