Chapter 1: Shot

Cindy and I were sweating in the garage over the old 55 Chevy we were trying to restore. It was sort of a labor of love for me since the first car I ever owned was the same ... although when I got the first one it was 17 years old already and was pretty much a piece of junk. This one, however, was going to be in "like new" condition when I finished it. At least I hoped it would be.

Around three in the afternoon I decided we had done enough for one Saturday and went in the house to clean my hands. Cindy was in the shower and I was in front of the kitchen sink soaping up when I heard my wife and some of the ladies cackling in the back yard. That was fine with me as at least she left us alone for around six hours while we were working on the car, instead coming up with ten other things she wanted me before I started on my project. That was her normal way of planning my Saturdays.

I wasn't eaves dropping ... honest I wasn't. But it's hard not to hear when you're standing maybe ten feet away and they are talking loud enough that you can hear them through the wall. So it was that I heard my wife drop the bomb. "Men," she said disgustedly. "You can't live with them and you can't shoot them."

I kind of smiled at that remark as it was good zinger. Her next remark, however, ruffled my feathers. "I guess that was a bit unfair but he's really getting on my nerves. I mean he's always working in that monstrosity in the garage and Cindy has him wrapped around her little finger. Plus, he's turning her into a grease monkey."

Cindy was my fourteen year old daughter. She was my best buddy and friend. She could use a wrench with the best of them and without her help my restoration project wouldn't be as far as long as it is. She says she wants to be a mechanical engineer like I am but who knows what will happen? She has four more years to decide exactly what she wants to do with her life.

As I was drying my hands Cindy walked through in her, very modest, one piece bathing suit. That was because her mother was home. When we went swimming when we were alone, she wore the smallest bikini that you've ever seen. When she did that she was teasing me and she knew it. But it was all in fun and harmless – at least to me. She smiled as she walked through the kitchen, "want to join me?"

"Why not," I said and went up to change into my normal trunks. When she showed up in that bikini I went and bought some speedos. Two can tease you know.

Anyway, we played around in the pool splashing and dunking each other until my wife, Karen, called us in for dinner. Karen wasn't the world's greatest cook but she did make a great pot roast. The meal, however, didn't go as most of them did. Karen, who liked to talk a lot, was strangely quiet throughout it.

She remained that way as we watched some mindless fluff on the TV although she did laugh a bit at the really funny stuff. Around nine, Cindy excused herself and went to bed for the night. After she had long enough to go to sleep, Karen said, "Pete, we really need to talk." (Oh-oh I thought, this can't be good.) Aloud I said, "Okay, what do you want to talk about?"

She got a thoughtful look on her face as if she was trying to poise the question. She sighed, "Pete, are you happy with me?" "What kind of a question is that," I responded. "Of course I'm happy and I love you as much as I did the first day we met."

"I want to believe you but I need to know." She bit her lower lip. "Don't take this wrong but ... but are you sleeping with Cindy?" She just sort of blurted it out.

I exploded. "Are you crazy? She's my daughter for God's sake."

She broke into tears. "That's just it. I've been living a lie and I just can't do it anymore."

I slumped in my chair. What the hell was happening here? I finally found my voice. "What are you talking about?"