Chapter 2

My big brother David has been my idol ever since I was a kid. Not just because he was eight years older, but because he was the golden boy: All-State in lacrosse at our high school in Ohio, girlfriends galore, and top of his class at MIT, double-majoring in electrical engineering and international relations.

I played lacrosse too, but I didn't even crack the starting line-up until senior year. I had only a couple of dates--and one serious girlfriend, Darlene Brouwer, for about two months. And I was an honor student at Ohio State, graduating with a degree in Computer Science. I did fine, in short, but I was no David.

After college I worked in several IT jobs--first in Columbus, Ohio, and later in Indiana, ending up at Minestra. When he graduated David immediately landed a training internship and then a job flying all over the world for IBM.

Except it wasn't really for IBM. David never talked much about his work, but knowing him as well as I did it was clear that he was really doing some kind of undercover stuff--CIA, NSA, some other government agency, I had no idea. I didn't ask, and I didn't really want to know. He always had a vague yet plausible answer when somebody asked him what he did, exactly. All I knew is that he was home in the US no more than a few times every year, and you never knew where an email would reach him.

But all of that was only part of the reason I looked up to him so much. The rest was simple: he had always been a fantastic big brother: an advisor, protector, and friend. We were far enough apart in years that we didn't feel competitive. Quite the contrary, he looked out for me, gave me tips at every stage of my life--about girls, about school, about handling mom and dad--even about marrying Amy, though I wasn't smart enough to listen.

David had met Amy a few times and we'd all hung out together on a couple of his infrequent visits home. He never came out and told me not to marry her, but his lack of enthusiasm came through in a subtle way. I picked up on it--but I ignored it. What the hell, I was only 24 and I was in love.

When I caught her cheating on me and the marriage came apart, David managed to be a terrific friend without ever once saying, or even hinting, "I told you so." He visited several times and just hung around, letting me cry and vent and curse about what an evil bitch she was. He helped me pick myself back up and dust myself off, and then he pretty much went back overseas to do whatever it was he did.

And now I was in love again, five years after the end of my first marriage--and I wanted to marry Tap but I knew that I needed David to meet her first. I trusted his judgment completely.

So I emailed him in August and he managed a quick visit to Indianapolis in late September. Tommie and David and I spent all day Saturday together and went out to dinner, and then the next day we met again for brunch before I had to take him to the airport.

"Wow, little brother, that is one sexy woman," is the first thing he said to me when we were alone in the car.

"I know," I said. "Almost scary sexy. I want her so much it kind of freaks me out--and I know that every other guy within a mile is feeling the same way, which is a little disturbing."

"But," he said, "she is clearly crazy about you. And she's sweet, and thoughtful, and funny--hell, man, she's quite a package!"

"Do you think so? I really need to know, David. I know what you thought about Amy--or at least I know you weren't so high on her, and you were right."

He sighed. "Yeah, I was--sorry about that. There wasn't much I could have done, though. You were going to marry her no matter what I said.

"But Tommie, she's different. I hardly know her, of course--but I get a really different feeling there."

He laughed. "Tell me again: WHY does she love you, exactly?"

"Beats me, but I'm not complaining. I guess she thinks I'm a nice guy. As long as you don't tell her otherwise..."

Because I pretty much begged him to, David managed another visit for Thanksgiving. Our parents were dead so we were the only family we had, aside from a few distant cousins.

Tommie and I made the Thanksgiving dinner at my apartment; she asked Alice and her husband Trevor to come down from Toronto, and the five of us had a wonderful day together.

David was charming and funny, as he always is, and I watched how smoothly he deflected questions about his work without ever letting anyone notice he hadn't given them a straight answer. Alice seemed impressed that I did half the cooking and serving and cleaning-up--it appeared that Trevor was more of an old-fashioned, "that's your job, honey" type of guy, so that earned me points with her.

When I took David to the airport on Saturday, we went early so we had time for a long lunch and a serious talk. I got right to it.

"You've met her twice now, David, and spent more time with us both--you even met her sister. Tell me what you think, honestly."

"I like her a lot, Jack--but I told you that the last time. What else do you want me to say?

"I don't know, to tell the truth. But I want to marry her, and I guess I want your ... it's not 'blessing' exactly, but I want you to tell me you think I'm doing the right thing this time."

My brother is a very shrewd guy. He just looked at me for a long time. "Okay, Jack. Well. Tommie is devoted to you, and the two of you are very good together. I watched you getting Thanksgiving dinner on the table: you shared the jobs, you communicated well, you were sweet and supportive with each other, lots of little compliments and warm looks and little touches.

"I can tell that she's smart, in addition to being such a bombshell. And she has a great sense of humor, except that she seems to think YOU'RE funny, which I'd ordinarily consider a bad sign!"

I punched him lightly in the shoulder. Typical brotherly teasing.

"So here's the real question: what's bothering you?"

"Me?" I was caught by surprise.

"Yeah. You guys love each other, it's clear there's not only a huge sexual attraction but lots of other solid stuff there as well--friendship, mutual respect--so why are you so worried?"

I sat back and just looked at him. "Fuck, I always forget how perceptive you are.

"Okay. I really, REALLY want to marry Tommie. I want to be around her for the rest of my life. But yeah, I am worried.

"First, I think it's just that my marriage to Amy was such a disaster. It would hurt like a son-of-a-bitch to have that happen again."

"Let me set your mind at rest about that one," David said with a smile. "Tommie is not Amy--she's not selfish or shallow, and as far as I can see she really cares about you. What else?"

"Three things," I said. "I've been making a list in my head for weeks, but everything on the list except the top three is trivial stuff, so it's down to three.

"First, I'm afraid that she'll stop wanting sex as much as I do, after a few years. That was one of the problems with Amy, you know. At first we were like bunnies, doing it all the time. But after a couple of years of marriage I was the only one who kept wanting it--she would have been happy with once a week or so.

"I figured okay, she just doesn't have as high a sex drive as I do; and I put up with it, but I didn't like it. Until I found her with dickhead ... Anyway, I would hate to go through that again.

"Second, I'm a little afraid of how suspicious she is--I've told you a bit about how badly men have treated her in the past, but you have no idea how awful it was. We nearly broke up after about two months because of a phone message she heard from an old fuck-buddy of mine. It took an intervention from her friend Katie to even calm her down enough to hear my side of it.

"And I worry a little that something like that might happen again--some innocent thing that could send her off the deep end. So that's two.

"The last one is how sexy she is. Men are universally attracted to her, it's almost unbelievable. I once followed her down the street and was amazed how many guys tried to pick her up.

"It's not that I don't trust her, because I do. I know she loves me, and I know she's not looking around. It's just...

"It's just that, if after a few years she gets a little bored with me, or we fight about something and she gets pissed-off, there's always going to be some really hot-looking guy waiting in the wings to try his luck."

One of the things I love about my brother is that he thinks before he speaks. I watched him take all this in and reflect on it. We ate for several minutes in silence before he replied.

"Well," he said. "About the first one. I'm the last guy in the world who can help you there--I've never had been married, never had a relationship last longer than a few months."

"Really? There's no Natasha tucked away in Smolensk, or Anna in Azerbaijan, or maybe a Luisa in Venice?"

"I'm impressed, Jack--that's more geography than I ever would have expected out of you! But no, no long-term honeys in my life.

"But I guess I think, if two people are married and they love each other, and they communicate well--I guess I figure they ought to be able to work it out. It's just compromising, isn't it? Like, somebody likes to sleep with the window open, the other one likes it shut? I mean, you work out some sort of deal.

"I don't know, sometimes you have to jerk yourself off, or she helps or something. And other times, maybe she has sex with you even though she's tired or doesn't really want to--just because she loves you."

He sat some more. "I guess I don't see the third one as a deal-breaker either. I mean, I admit that Tommie is amazingly sexy."

He looked at me. "There's just something unique about her. If she weren't with you, I could easily imagine going after her myself. So I get what you're talking about.

"But as long she loves you and is happy with you ... well, she's probably already seen every kind of horny guy trick there is, and gotten pretty damn good at fending them off.

"So like you say, unless the marriage goes south or you do some typical 'Jack-the-dickhead' thing to fuck it up"--he grinned at me--"the fact that other guys are turned on by her shouldn't be an issue.

"But her suspicions ... that seems like a harder one. She needs to trust you, Jack, really totally trust you, if the marriage is going to work. That's true for everyone, and probably way more true for Tommie.

"So I'd for sure marry her--my God, don't let her get away. But plan to do a lot of talking, a lot of staying in touch with what's on her mind, and be sure that the two of you never let any problems fester between you. I guess I'd tell that to anybody who's thinking about getting married, but especially to you and her.

"And can you please schedule the wedding for when I'm in town?"

We did, too. We were married at the end of April. Katie and Tap's sister Alice were the two matrons of honor, and I asked Eric to be my co-best man along with David, who flew in from overseas for three days.

Everything about it was wonderful, except that Tommie scowled at the minister when he said, "do you, Thomasina Ann Parker..." She hates her given name, just HATES it, and won't let me ever use it, even to tease her.

My absolute favorite moment of the whole day came late in the evening, at the post-reception party, when just about a dozen of our closest friends were hanging out in our honeymoon suite for a couple more bottles of champagne. Everyone gave a toast, most of them razzing me in one way or another, and then it was my turn.

I stood up, more than a little tipsy, and grinned at everyone. "I know you all know what I'm going to say. I'm going to give you some sappy, mushy words about my new bride--about how gorgeous and lovable and sweet and generous and smart and funny and irresistible she is, and about how I will spend all the rest of my days on this planet trying to make her as happy as she makes me..."

Groans, and "awww"s, and mocking laughter greeted this.

"But before I get to that part I want to raise a glass to Katie and Eric--Tommie's friends and now mine, two people I really admire and whose good sense I will always trust.

"They're kind of an unusual couple, though, very different from one another, so it's hard to imagine how they stay together." I had a grin on my face, and my listeners began to sense that something funny was coming.

"Just in the last two days each of them took me aside to speak to me about Tommie--but Katie's words were so vague, while Eric's were incredibly specific. It was kind of funny, actually.

"Katie said to me--what was it? oh, yes. Katie said I'd better take good care of Tommie or she'd kill me. Awfully general, right? But Eric said, 'Jack, if you ever hurt Tommie I'll cut your balls off with a rusty hunting knife.'"

Roars of laughter from around the room, and I raised my glass over the din to say, "here's to Tommie's two great friends and protectors!"

Were we happily married? Yes and no. Yes we were, for about the first four years. At least I was happy--almost beyond my wildest dreams--but I really believe Tommie was too. But after that, over a period of a year and half or two years, it just seemed to slip away. Gradually, inexorably, and I couldn't make it stop.

Our honeymoon in Cancun was fabulous. Coming home and living together as man and wife was fabulous. Buying a house in the suburbs, just a few blocks from Katie and Eric, and getting settled in it together was fabulous.

I don't know how to say it without invoking all the boring clichés. Tommie made me feel complete. I woke up every day smiling to myself, seeing her head on the pillow next to me, knowing that we'd have breakfast together and drive into work together, eat lunch together many days, and then come home and have the evening together.

She was funny and supportive and surprising and tender. She loved me and she made sure to let me know it all the time. And our sex life was fantastic.

It wasn't that she was some sort of sexual athlete--nor was I--or that everything was dildos and handcuffs and trapezes. Our lovemaking was probably like that of many married couples: fun and energetic sometimes, relaxed and intimate other times.

But Tommie was so sexy, just looking at her standing in the kitchen cooking spaghetti turned me on. Seeing her smile when we clinked beer bottles together and said "cheers" turned me on. Reading the occasional flirty email from her turned me on.

And my fears that our libidos would be badly matched--as mine had been with Amy--turned out to be quite unfounded. I initiated sex more than Tommie, but there were lots of times when she was eager to jump my bones and made that very clear. From time to time when I wanted to play she was tired or distracted, but she never said "no" without a gentle smile and a promise that later, or the next day, she'd be coming after me. And she lived up to it, too.

Even after the first few months, there'd be times on weekends when we'd spend hours in bed, touching and licking and fucking, then napping for a while and starting over. I could never get enough of her, but I never felt deprived either.

A couple of months after our second anniversary Tap turned 30 and the alarm on her biological clock starting ringing, loudly. I was nearly 34 and more than ready myself, so we began the fun process of making a baby.

And it was fun, for a while, with the scheduling and the jokes about when and how often and in what position. But after a year, with no results, it started to be less fun--and more like a duty to have sex at just the right times. Another six months without a pregnancy, and it was time to get tested.

The news was pretty devastating: while I was shooting lots of baby-makers, Tommie had some rare type of uterine malformation that meant she couldn't carry a baby to term--she had perfectly healthy eggs, but her uterus couldn't grow them. Sometimes problems like that can be addressed by surgery, but in her case three different doctors said it couldn't.

I got us a few days off from work and we flew to the Outer Banks of North Carolina for a quiet vacation. We slept a lot--especially Tommie, who was terribly depressed--and walked on the beach, and talked. Sometimes she would just sit and cry, while I held her in my arms.

When she was feeling calmer I raised the possibility of adoption. "I don't know, Jack," she said, after a long silence.

"I've thought of it too--but I just don't know if ... if that's what I want for us. I so much wanted to have your babies..."

She started to cry again, and I rocked her in my arms. I was disappointed too, but nowhere near as upset as Tommie. We talked some more that evening and decided that we'd put off the question of adoption for a few months, and see how we felt after time had passed.

It wouldn't be right to say that "everything changed" after we found out we couldn't have children, but something definitely changed in Tommie. We gradually recovered from the initial sadness, we went back to our great life together--but she was quieter, more thoughtful, and sometimes very distant from me.

We still talked openly, and I knew that there wasn't anything she was hiding; it was just that the sadness sometimes rolled over her like a wave, and I pretty much had to just wait it out. Sometimes for a few hours, sometimes for 3-4 days.

One October day on our ride home from work she said, "Jack, I've been thinking about looking for another job."

"Oh?"

"I like Minestra fine, and it's really great seeing you during the day so much." She smiled and squeezed my hand. "But I'm a little bored, and with the whole baby thing ... I think it would be good for me to have a change. Something new and different, a new set of challenges to focus on."

So Tap spoke to Ben, who told her he'd miss her but he'd give her a terrific recommendation, and she started looking around. She had four or five interviews for Executive Secretary/Personal Assistant type jobs, and got three callbacks. In the end the offer she was leaning towards taking came from a guy named Damon Ebberson, who ran an enormous furniture retail and wholesale business based in Indianapolis called Grand Valley, Limited. He had about a hundred and eighty stores all over the Midwest, as well as a bunch of factories scattered around the country.

As you might expect, interviewing for jobs--for somebody who looked like Tommie--meant trying to judge whether she was getting hired for her looks. Even more, it meant working out whether the guy hiring her was going to be putting the moves on her all the time. Tommie was more experienced in dealing with this crap than anyone should have to be, and she told me a lot of stories.

One guy, the managing partner of a law firm, did everything but drool onto her blouse during the interview. And when she told him straight out that she was happily married and didn't sleep around, he made clear that the interview was over. "Fuckhead" was her concise description of that guy.

"So, tell me about this Ebberson," I said. "You think he'd be a good person to work for?"

"Well, I didn't even meet him in the first round of interviews--that struck me as a good sign, actually. A guy named Don Harrington talked to me, one of his two vice-presidents, and I thought it went okay.

"On the second round I met Damon and had lunch with him. He's a dapper guy, maybe mid-40s, really tan and fit. Like he plays two sets of tennis four times a week. On the short side--several inches shorter than you. And very straightforward--told me right away to call him Damon and that he didn't like a lot of formality.

"We talked about what he needed a Personal Assistant to do and there's nothing there I didn't do for Ben, or couldn't learn to do for him. And they're offering me about 20% more than Minestra's paying me." She grinned. "Enough to spruce up your wardrobe a bit, sweetie."

This was a running joke between us--I didn't care much for clothes shopping, and I wore the same stuff all the time. Tommie was always eager to drag me into a few stores and get some new things.

"So did you say yes to him?"

"Not yet." She looked at me. "There's one thing, Jack--and we need to talk about it. Damon travels a fair amount and he would want me along on some of the trips--mostly to take notes during meetings and make logistical arrangements and stuff. It would mean 2-3 nights away at a time, maybe every other month or so. And I told him I couldn't agree to that without talking to you first."

I was instantly suspicious. Not of Tommie, not in the least--but of this guy I'd never met. I knew how men looked at her, and what they thought about.

"Okay--can you tell me how the conversation went?"

"Well, I'd been watching him closely, of course. There's no doubt that he thinks I'm attractive, but he was perfectly professional--no leering, no flirting or inappropriate jokes.

"When he mentioned the traveling I said, 'Damon, just to be clear--I'm a married woman and I'm totally faithful to my husband.'

"And he looked shocked for a minute, and then he smiled and shook his head and said, 'no no, Tommie, nothing like that. These are business trips only. In fact, your husband would be welcome to come along anytime and stay in the hotel with you, if he's willing to pay his own way. I wouldn't need you most evenings so you and he could enjoy a bit of a vacation.'"

That eased my mind quite a bit. "Wow, that sounds like an okay deal."

"I thought so too." She smiled at me. "I'm inclined to take the job, Jack, unless you think I shouldn't."

We talked about it for a while longer and agreed it sounded like a nice opportunity.

"Can I take you out for a fancy dinner to celebrate? Maybe spend a little of that 20% raise?"

She kissed me and said, "absolutely. But first we're stopping at Richard Avery's and buying you some new clothes!"

Tommie's first several months working for Damon went very well. He treated her with respect, she liked the other people in the office, and the work was interesting and challenging. I met him for the first time at Grand Valley's lavish Christmas party and I liked him.

My mind was also set at ease a little by meeting his wife, Elena. She was at least ten years younger than he was, and a total knockout. She seemed to be of Mexican or Latin American descent, and spoke with a charming accent. As far as I could tell they were devoted to each other.

In early January Tommie made her first business trip with Damon, to Asheville, North Carolina, and I took a couple of days off and went along.

We had a lot of fun. As promised, Damon didn't need her in the evenings except for

one dinner meeting, and the other nights Tommie and I had time on our own. I joined for the next trip as well, to Las Vegas in April, and for two more during the summer.

As for the other trips, when I couldn't go because of work, Tap and I spoke every night on the phone. She seemed happy, and her normally high level of wariness where men were concerned didn't seem to be picking up anything inappropriate.

In November, though, that all changed. I couldn't reach her on Saturday night for our usual evening phone call--she was in Tucson with Damon and several other people from the company--and on Sunday morning Damon called me.

"Jack, I'm sorry to call out of the blue like this. Everything's okay, Tommie's fine, but--well, someone slipped something into her drink last night."

"What?" I was frantic. "Is she okay? Should I fly out there?"

"No no, it's really fine. It was Don Harrington, that son-of-a-bitch! He was trying to hustle her out of the restaurant but I spotted them and stopped it in time. I got a cab and took her to the hospital, she was there all night. Tommie's back at the hotel now getting packed, one of the female staff from the hotel is helping her, and we'll be flying back in an hour. If you want to meet us at the airport we'll be getting in around 5:45."