It's A Wonderful Life?

I made sure that Tom wasn't going to try anything then I backed out after her and told him "I'll pay for the chain at the front desk."

Sophia was both furious and crying when I reached her. "Let's go to my car," I said, "after I stop at the front desk to pay for the chain I broke."

"I can't believe that you humiliated me," she snarled through tears. "You've got no business butting into my personal life."

"We'll talk in the car," I responded with attitude.

We remained silent as we rode down in the elevator. I stopped at the front desk, gave the receptionist (fortunately it was a different one than I gave the flowers to) my card and told her that I had inadvertently broken the security chain for room 600 and to call me and tell me how much it cost and I'd send them a check. The receptionist looked startled but replied "OK," as she perused my card.

Sophia and I were essentially wordless as we walked to my car, me directing her just by pointing. When we got in it she screamed. "How dare you interfere in my life; that was the biggest asshole thing anyone has ever done to me..."

I'm sure that much vitriol would have spewed out when I interrupted her and forcefully replied "Shut the fuck up. I'm not going to stand by while you ruin your life by not only having an affair and cheating on Craig but being a whore. If you need money all you have to do is ask and Mom and I will give it to you."

"I don't want your fucking money; I want my own. And I enjoy getting paid to fuck and Craig doesn't suffer because of it, he gets all the pussy he wants from me," she shot back with her arms crossed.

"You need to stop this now; if Craig finds out you'll destroy him."

"The hell it will; your life was never destroyed by Mom's part-time whoring; it ultimately got you big bucks!" she responded with a snarl on her face.

That was the closest I ever came in my life to hitting one of my children. I somehow was able to get control and then in a low growl I said "How dare you slander your mother. She would never do anything like that..." I was going to go on when she interrupted me.

"Can you possibly be that clueless? Alicia and I both knew what she was doing and she explained it was for our family's well-being and it didn't hurt you in the least. We were sure that you knew and approved it so that eventually you could cash in like you did when the company went public."

Again I came close to hitting one of my children for the first time but by clenching my fists so tight that it hurt I overcame the impulse. "Stop lying about your mother," I growled.

"Just ask her, Daddy-dearest," Sophia laughed through her tears, "I'll bet she thought you knew and were too pussy-whipped and money-grubbing to say anything. And don't you dare tell Craig or I'll never speak to you again," she yelled as she got out of the car and literally ran away.

I was more traumatized than at any other time in my life. I kept telling myself that it couldn't be true -- but I couldn't explain why Sophia would lie about something like that. From all outward appearances Sophia had a very good relationship with Brenda, probably better than her relationship with me. It was too much for my brain to handle to find out within twenty minutes that both my daughter and my wife are or were call girls -- I just couldn't wrap my brain around it.

I just sat in the driver's seat for a long time; I must have really spaced out because when my brain finally started working again the dashboard clock said that it was almost an hour later than I thought that it was.

I know I drove home -- because I pulled into the garage -- but I honestly didn't remember how I got there. I must have been on autopilot because I was thinking only about how I was going to approach Brenda and not concentrating on the road. As it turned out Brenda determined my approach.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$

When I entered the house Brenda was sitting at the kitchen table sipping what looked like Scotch and soda; that was highly unusual. I hadn't seen her drink any alcohol -- let alone hard liquor -- in years. Before I said a word she announced "Sophia called me," then took a sip of her drink.

I just stood there looking at her, saying nothing. She took a couple of more sips before saying something else. "You have nothing to be upset about. The last time I turned a trick was twelve years ago," -- yes she really did say "turned a trick'-- "a month before the company went public, and it was because of my 'bonuses' from turning tricks that we got enough money to invest so that when the company went public we were really rich. Plus you never suffered for it -- I never turned you down for sex; I just did it to secure our future."

I stared at her like she had three heads. There was no apology, no remorse, no consideration for my feelings, just a snide "Get over it asshole" attitude.

I finally spoke. "So you don't care that the example you set turned your youngest daughter -- and maybe your oldest one too for all that I know -- into a whore even though she doesn't need the money?"

"That wasn't my doing," she snapped. "She does it just for fun and for extra spending money. It's her life, not yours."

This really was a day of firsts -- the first time I ever wanted to hit one of my kids -- and the first time I ever wanted to hit my wife. I took ten deep breaths then I left the kitchen and went into my home office.

In my home office I packed up my laptop computer and portable scanner, and put important files in a briefcase. I carried those items out to my car, walking past Brenda without saying anything. "What are you doing?" she snarled. I didn't reply.

After stowing stuff in my car I went to the basement and got our two largest suitcases, and walked up to my bedroom with them. Brenda followed me upstairs. As I laid the open suitcases on our bed and started filling them with clothes she snarled "What the fuck are you doing; are you a little baby? I helped secure our family's financial security and ended things as soon as I did that. Why don't you thank me instead of being an ungrateful pig with a fragile ego?"

I grabbed her as gently as I could, escorted her out of the room, locked the door, and put a security bar under the door knob. I ignored her pounding and swearing and filled up both suitcases; then I opened the bedroom door and walked out. She was backing up, trying to stay in front of me until we reached the stair landing. By then she got the idea that I wasn't stopping and that if she didn't move out of the way that she'd end up falling down the stairs backwards. As she finally moved out of the way she screamed at me. By that time I had tuned her out so I don't know what she said.

As I was backing out of the driveway she came running up to the car and yelled "You better get over your little snit by Saturday and be here for the barbecue." Twice a year we host a big barbecue where we invite almost everyone we know and almost everyone we invite comes for at least a couple of hours. I didn't bother telling her that hosting the barbeque was the last thing on earth that I would be doing.

Fortunately, our company owns a small building with four suites. It is primarily used for employees from the two other, out-of-state, offices who visit the main office. It is rare that all four are used at the same time. I called up Barry's secretary -- who handles scheduling for the suites -- and inquired about availability. There was no problem since only two were scheduled for the next two weeks so I swung by the office, picked up the key, dropped off the engineering drawings that I gotten from the hotel what seemed like days ago, but was likely only two or three hours ago, and went to the condo.

I carefully monitored my cell phone for the rest of the day and night and didn't answer if it showed anything aside from a business contact. I got only two calls from Brenda, one from Sophia, and one from Alicia, all of which I let go to voicemail. I listened only to Sophia's voicemail at that time but didn't erase any of them.

If Sophia had been apologetic, sincerely promised to give up her avocation, and had acted contrite I wouldn't have called Craig. Her voicemail was none of those, however. Rather it was confrontational and although in a more measured tone it said essentially the same thing to me that she said in the car before she stormed off.

I called Craig at his office; it was still only 4:15 so he was there. I asked if I could stop by before he left for home. He said no problem and that he didn't plan to leave until 5:30. I arranged to meet him there at 5:15.

I liked Craig. He was a good guy. I didn't think that he was strong-willed enough for Sophia but I never had any objection to him marrying her. I knew that he'd be a good husband and father. When I closed the door to his office I was dreading what I was about to tell him more than almost any other thing ever that I had to relate to someone.

"You look serious, Ben," he said after we both sat down.

"I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Craig; and I'm not skilled enough to know how to soft pedal what I'm about to say, nor am I practiced at subtlety; therefore I just going to come out and say it. Your wife -- my daughter -- is a part time call girl."

"What!" Craig screamed virtually levitating off his chair.

When he saw the sad expression on my face, he sat back down. I then related to him everything that I witnessed at the hotel and my talk with Sophia. I could tell that he either didn't believe me, or didn't want to believe me, so I asked "Should I play a recording of my discussion with Sophia in my car?"

The dash cam in my car also can record audio if I activate it with a switch on the console, and that recording is accessible on my iPhone. I don't know how that works -- it was set up by one of the electrical engineers at my employer -- I just know that it does.

When an ashen Craig said "Yes; I'd like to hear it," I got out my iPhone, accessed the app, put it on speaker, and placed it on Craig's desk closer to him than me. The part about Brenda having been a part-time call girl caused him to raise his eyebrows and for his eyes to get as big as golf balls. After about four minutes he said "Turn it off Ben, please, I've heard enough," so I did.

I got up to leave. My parting words were "It's your marriage and your life Craig so I'm not giving you any advice. All I can tell you is that I've moved out and I'm consulting an attorney tomorrow and am not going to the barbeque on Saturday."

Craig solemnly nodded his head, but didn't say anything as I left his office, closing the door behind me.

When I got back to my car I had to take ten deep breaths, and wipe away a single tear, before I could drive back to the condo.

$$$$$$$$$$$$

I got a recommendation for a family law attorney from our company's general counsel. He called her while I was in his office and got her to agree to take time to see me that very day -- a Thursday. When I met the family law attorney, named Sylvia Watson, at noon -- she had a lunch brought into her office because she was a busy woman and had the rest of her day scheduled to the hilt -- I set the stage and then played my recording of my talk with Sophia in my car. When it was finished I told her about Brenda's attitude when I went home -- I didn't have a recording of that, but I could recall every word until I went into my office, and was able to almost quote her verbatim while Sylvia recorded my soliloquy. Then Sylvia made some statements and asked some questions.

"You know that your recording isn't useable as evidence because you never informed your daughter that she was being recorded."

"I know," I replied.

"Does the fact that Brenda apparently stopped her activities twelve years ago mean anything to you?"

"It might have if she had been conciliatory. Instead she was nasty, like I was the perpetrator, not the victim. It was a side of her I had never seen before and made me wonder if my entire relationship with her was an illusion. Her disrespect in discussing it is as bad as what she did, and the disrespect is current -- not twelve years ago."

"It would be meaningless to file on the basis of adultery after all of these years," Sylvia continued, "unless there is something current."

"I don't care about the grounds for divorce; make it as simple as possible."

"You definitely want to file right away -- you see no reason to talk to her more and try and sort things out?"

"No, I want the proceedings to start as soon as possible; will you represent me?"

Sylvia smiled. "I will; but I warn you that I'm not cheap."

"Neither am I," I smiled in return, my first smile in 24 hours.

Sylvia had her secretary print out a representation contract while Sylvia got all of the vital information from me, including bank and brokerage statements, which I had brought with me in my briefcase.

After I signed the contract and gave Sylvia a $20,000 retainer she said "I know that you want to proceed quickly. Since you're just asking for a 50-50 split and there are no child custody or care issues, I can probably get the papers filed and ready to serve by Monday or Tuesday. Is that acceptable?"

"It is," I replied, shook her hand, and left.

The rest of the day and Friday my phone was strangely devoid of personal calls except for two voicemails (I wasn't answering personal calls). One voicemail was a screaming vitriol-spilling call from Sophia Thursday night calling me a traitor and asshole (those were the nicest names she called me); the second one was from Brenda on Friday afternoon telling me that I better show up on Saturday. Brenda's tone was slightly better than it was on Wednesday, but not by much.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

When the barbeque was supposed to start on Saturday I went to a local park. I thought that maybe being in the outdoors, and perhaps even seeing kids playing, would improve my mood. Unfortunately, it did not. In fact after walking a couple of miles as I sat on a park bench I started to get more and more angry at how things I had believed in were artifices -- deceptions, not reality. To quell my anger I really wanted to beat the shit out of someone.

As I sat on the bench stewing a cameraman and T V reporter set up only about thirty meters from me. I recognized the reporter. Her name is Julie Benson. I remember that she was an intern at the time of my home invasion and was with one of the reporters who interviewed me then. Since then she has progressed in the ranks and now is the anchor on the five o'clock news and still does special interest reports. I wasn't able to hear what the special interest report was, but did see her interview three people.

While Julie Benson looks really beautiful on TV, in person her features are a little too sharp but they show up really well on a TV screen when she has makeup on. Don't get me wrong, to me she is still a very good-looking woman; and not just her face. Julie's nickname in male dominated venues is "Betty Boobs" because -- well, because she is believed to have E cup boobs, certainly much larger than any other news person in local or national TV that I've ever seen.

I was watching Julie and the cameraman packing up -- trying not to concentrate on her boobs -- when something bizarre happened. Two tough looking guys went up to the cameraman and Julie and were obviously threatening them. The thugs looked like that had something in their hands. They were a lot bigger than the cameraman and pushed him and one grabbed the camera like he was going to walk away with it.

I didn't even hesitate for a second. I really needed to beat the shit out of someone and it was almost like divine intervention that these thugs showed up. I covered the thirty meters to them in record time and didn't bother to talk; this was a time for action, not words.

I hit the guy closest to me on the back of the head with my right elbow; he immediately collapsed to the ground. The second guy was startled but seemed to regain his composure quickly when he saw his buddy fall. I then saw that he was wielding a knife in his right hand.

I side-kicked the second guy in his left shin with my right foot, and as he was wincing in pain he struck out with the knife. It only grazed my left arm but it did draw blood. Before he could strike again I side-kicked his right shin with my left foot. That caused him to double over and cry out in pain so that he was perfectly set up when I smashed his face with my right elbow and his knife when flying from his hand.

After seeing that Betty -- I mean Julie -- and the cameraman were OK I kicked the knives away from both miscreants while the cameraman called 911. The cameraman then went to his van and got a first aid kit and Julie patched up my arm.

Both thugs were moaning but trying to get up when I stomped on their backs, in turn, and told them to stay down or I'd crush their heads. They apparently believed me because they were still lying almost motionless when two squad cars arrived with lights flashing and sirens wailing. During the short wait for the cops Julie and Sam -- the cameraman -- were very appreciative of my efforts. I humbly thanked them -- I didn't bother telling them that this was a dream come true for me since it allowed me to vent my anger before it consumed me.

The cops separately took our three statements after handcuffing the thugs and putting one in each squad car. The cops handled the knives with latex gloves on and put them in evidence bags. After the cops left Julie asked me to go on camera, and I agreed. She then related her tale, interviewed me, thanked me again on air, and when Sam was packing up his camera asked "Are you married? I don't see a ring."

"I stopped wearing my ring three days ago and am filing for divorce Monday or Tuesday," I replied.

"Sorry to hear that," she said, although it was obvious that she wasn't "sorry." "Do you have a card in case I need to get in touch with you about our interview?"

I gave her a business card, wrote my cellphone number on the back of it, and smiled as we waved goodbye.

I did things the rest of the day that I hadn't done in years including horseback riding from stables in the park, roller skating in a rink, bowling, and eating at a rib place that Brenda never wanted to go to because she thought that the food was unhealthy.

As I watched the eleven o'clock news that night I was pleased to see that my interview with Julie made it. Julie really gilded the lily in the studio after the interview was played -- even though she normally doesn't stay around for the eleven o'clock news she did that night.

Before I went to bed I checked my cellphone for the first time that day. I saw a call from Julie and listened to the voicemail. "Thank you again for saving us, Ben. I want you to know that your interview will be on at eleven and that I'll have nice things to say about you. I know that in the future I'll have follow-up questions; and maybe you can tell me when your divorce papers are served. Ta --ta!"

I laughed especially with her closing. It caused me to think of her ta-tas, and my dick suddenly started to salute. I had to temporarily turn the shower water cold to settle my little friend down.

Of course there were voicemails from Brenda, Alicia, and Bradley asking where I was and why I wasn't at the barbeque I was theoretically hosting with Brenda. Alicia's and Bradley's voicemails were pleasant and indicated concern. Brenda's three voicemails got progressively nastier. I kept all of them. There was nothing from Sophia or Craig.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Sylvia was able to file the divorce papers on Monday and even serve Brenda at our house by six p. m. I know the time that she was served even before talking to Sylvia since my phone rang three times within fifteen minutes starting at 6:02. In the first voicemail Brenda simply screamed "Answer the phone your fucking coward." The next two were longer and more unpleasant. I saved them all but of course didn't call her back.