What to Do About David

This is just a corrected version of an earlier story. The story is unchanged. Only the homophone error was fixed.

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I know so many people who complain about their jobs, what they do, and who they work with. I hear endless stories of men who chase married women around the office and married women who cheat on their husbands along with the usual garden variety liars, game players, and ladder climbers. The stories always include unreasonable bosses, unpaid overtime, and so many adolescent coworkers than I can't keep them straight. For a long time I found those stories somehow entertaining. It was like hearing a scary story told around the campfire; it wasn't real. It was just a bit of otherworldly nonsense designed to frighten and amuse. That is, until it became very real and the pain struck close to home.

My name is Ben Gregory. I'm 29 and I'm a civil engineer by trade. I do the engineering work on bridges, roadbeds, and such. My wife is Alexandria and goes by Alex. She's a year younger than me, is the office manager at a small law firm, and I adore her. I've never cheated on Alex, I would never cheat on her, and I trust her completely. Our lives aren't terribly exciting, but they're everything we want. I wake in the morning to see her sleeping peacefully beside me and a couple of days each week we manage to get to bed early to talk, snuggle, and make love. If there is a better life, I don't know it.

Here is what might be the best part of my story: somehow, and I honestly don't know how, my wife and I managed to find jobs where we avoid all of that office drama. We both found jobs in great offices with wonderful people who became solid friends. So, our lives are pretty boring, right? How do I know about all that adolescent office insanity? Well, no job is perfect and there are a few rotten apples in every barrel. On top of that, we have neighbors and our neighbors have friends. We also belong to a couple of clubs (gardening, bicycling, etc.) and a gym. It's inevitable that from time to time we cross paths with someone who can't behave themselves.

I honestly believe that most people are good, but it seems that at every party or cookout there is always that one ass that you watch whenever he's talking with your wife. For instance, she has told me never to allow one particular neighbor to get her alone. He backed her into a corner in the kitchen once and she doesn't trust him. So long as she has him under control, and he behaves, then he gets to keep his teeth. Someday, if he goes too far, he loses them. I've made that promise to myself. So you see, I trust my wife, but I take these assholes seriously.

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It was a Friday night. Alex and I were out for an evening of dinner and dancing with friends at one of the better hotels in a neighboring city. We try to go out for a simple dinner every other week and dancing once a month, and sometimes it's just fun to get out of town. I'm an awful dancer, but I do love holding my wife in my arms, moving to the music, and trying with all my concentration not to step on her feet. When we're out with good friends, the type that share our values, it's not uncommon for us to switch partners for a dance or two. I'll dance with a friend's wife and my friend will dance with Alex. It's all perfectly proper.

We were out with two couples: Sean and Debbie O'Malley, and Ned and Janet Davis. Sean is another engineer where I work and Janet handles billing and payroll. I was dancing with Debbie when she nudged me saying, "Don't look, but isn't that Barbara Perkins walking in? And isn't that not her husband David she's with?" How do you not look when someone says, "Don't look..."?

We slowly turned on the dance floor until I could see the object of Debbie's interest and, yes, it was Barbara and that was not her husband. Ordinarily, that wouldn't mean a lot. David could be parking the car. The guy could be her brother or her cousin. Except, I knew from the office that David was out of town on company business; and the way she was looking into his eyes and holding his arm tight to her breast, we quickly ruled out brother or cousin.

We decided to be invisible for now, keep to ourselves, and see what happened. Over the next half hour, what happened was a lot of face sucking at the table with groping and grinding on the dance floor. The mystery man had a boner all night long and Barbara was by no means unaware of his condition. Perhaps the way she kept stroking her hand along his swollen member had something to do with it.

It wasn't long before all six of us had seen enough. We tried to ignore it; but it was literally the elephant in the room, or at least the elephant's trunk. David was our friend and we didn't like what we were seeing. We didn't like it one little bit. After a time, we retreated to a quiet corner of the bar just down the hall from the music where we could talk; and we began to debate what we should or should not do about Barbara and her very friendly companion.

As luck would have it, the bar offered a perfect view of the elevators that led up to the hotel rooms on the upper floors. I honestly don't know what we would have decided if it had ended there, but about an hour after we retreated to the bar we saw Barbara and her very good friend enter the elevator and go up to the seventh floor. The only thing up there were hotel rooms -- make that bed rooms. We all looked at each other. Not a word was said. There was no doubt in anybody's mind. Barbara was cheating on our good friend and we were in the unpleasant position of knowing it.

What do you do at a time like that? If I were David, I would damn sure want to know, but would he? We briefly toyed with the idea that he already knew, but David is no swinger. Opinions at the table were divided. The men wanted to tell David. The wives said, "Stay out of it. It's none of our business."

Husbands do have a knack for saying the wrong thing at the most unfortunate times and I am no exception. I said to my wife, "So, if I were stepping out on you with some bimbo, you wouldn't want your friends to tell you?" All I did was ask the question, but it was a frosty drive home that night.

I'm guessing that I wasn't the only husband who had a discussion with his loving wife that night. In the interest of self-preservation, I avoided the subject Saturday. Sunday afternoon I got together with Sean and Ned and by then there was only one topic of conversation: What to do about David? The thing is we all like David. He's a great guy. He's the sort of guy who will drop what he's doing to lend you a hand, listen when you're thinking through a technical problem, and give you the shirt off your back if you need it. We thought we liked Barbara, too, but that was changing fast.

There is always somebody who thinks faster than me, or maybe a lot of people think faster than me; but I was still surprised when Sean brought out his cell phone and showed us a series of photographs and videos that he'd taken without any of us noticing. They started with Barbara sucking face at the table and then dancing with her good friend and his prominent erection. Sean then showed us a video of Barbara making nice with the guy's boner under the table and the last had the two lovers walking arm-in-arm into the elevator.

Ned got right to the point. "Sean, that's a divorce you're holding there. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, so what do I do with it?"

"Ben said it Friday night. If you were David, would you want to know?"

"Damn right I would! First, I'd want you to get my guns out of the house; but after that I'd want to know."

I looked at both my friends and we were all thinking the same thing: we cannot stand by and watch her cuckold our good friend. We had to know, and we would figure out how to bring our wives into it once we were sure. Sean, Ned and I decided that this was a job best left to professionals. I told you I have great friends and we were willing to spend some money to help one of our own.

I contacted a private investigator named Harvey Mattison and we met with him Monday afternoon. Harvey was all business. He listened to our story, watched the videos, asked pointed questions, and thought before he offered any opinions. The first opinion was expected: "This is going to cost you." We knew. "This David must be a good friend, or do you have other reasons for doing this?" We assured him this was only friendship and we would be happy to be proven wrong. In fact, we wanted to be wrong. Hell, we weren't wrong, and we knew it. Harvey knew it, too.

"There are two ways of doing this. The first is totally legal and will probably cost you the most. The second is faster and may produce evidence you can't use in a divorce case, but if we get lucky it may not cost you as much. Plus, it's more reliable. Either way, I may get you unambiguous evidence of adultery, but it's doubtful you can use any of it in court. This is a no-fault state, anyway, and I'll be bending the law a little."

Well, we liked the guy, but we weren't rich! "Let's hear the second option first."

"I'll give you a GPS tracking device that you put under the bumper of her car. Can you do that?"

We all nodded. It was easy enough. She kept her car in their garage, but one of us could go over to borrow something and tag it easily enough.

"Tagging her car isn't exactly legal, but it means we won't have to spend as many hours watching and following her. We'll know when she's on the move and follow her more easily."

We were all nodding like fools, looking at each other, and writing mental checks from our accounts.

"Do you have any idea when she'll try this again?"

We did. David was in a rough phase of his latest project. The build was behind schedule, so he met with the management of the build and did his own inspections over the weekends while the construction crew worked all out during the week. He was due to leave town again this coming Friday morning and he wouldn't be home until Sunday.

"I'll tell two of my team members to be ready for Friday night. You get this device firmly attached to the chassis of her car. Then we'll plan on following her wherever she goes." Harvey chose to use a team that could pose as a couple so they could move about the hotel freely without drawing attention. Clearly, he had done this before.

"What happens if the asshole drives?"

"He probably will, but she'll meet him someplace first. My people are good. They won't lose them. And if there's a chance to tag his car in the process, I'll just charge you for another tracker. With any luck, it's one night's work. If we need a second night, then tagging his car will make it easier and cheaper the second time. We probably won't get anything too intimate, but we can at least get them coming and going from the hotel room. If they behave the way you describe, her actions won't pass the husband test and we can get that much."

"What's the husband test?"

"Would her husband approve of what she's doing?"

"No, she won't pass the husband test. We could live with that."

"You want to know the asshole's name?"

We hadn't recognized the guy, but we suggested that Harvey hold that information in case David wanted it. We were already deeper into this than we anticipated.

The rest of the week passed uneventfully. The hardest part was not saying anything to David. I felt like we were just watching him walk off a cliff and doing nothing, but we knew that it would be worse if we alarmed him and we were wrong.

I went over to David's house unannounced Wednesday after dinner and borrowed his edger. Barbara gave me a kiss on the cheek when she greeted me, and I felt like I'd been bit by a serpent. David took me into the garage; and as I commented on what looked like some rust developing on Barbara's car, I ran my hand under the fender and secured the tracking hardware without David noticing anything.

Friday came and went, then Saturday, and Sunday. I took Alex out to dinner locally and hoped we would not cross paths with Barbara and her boner buddy.

Sean, Ned and I got a text message Monday morning to meet Harvey later that day. We weren't surprised by the outcome. Barbara and her good friend had spent Friday night in room 623 at the same hotel and hadn't left until late morning Saturday. Harvey's team got lucky. They managed to rent room 621 and had what they needed to make some very clear audio recordings through the wall between the rooms. They also had a small digital camera with a lens that would reverse the fisheye on the hotel room door, so they got a pretty nasty video of what was going on inside. The loving couple was slow to turn off the lights.

Now we had a decision to make; and before we did that, we needed to bring the wives in on it.

"You did what?!"

"Honey, I..."

"Don't honey me. You hired a P.I. without discussing it with me? And you spied on Barbara?"

"Yes, but..."

"What if you're wrong? How am I going to face her after you had her followed and intruded into her personal life?"

"Honey, I was worried for David. I did it for him!"

"And if she finds out? What then?"

"Okay, enough! Now you listen to me! When you and I got married, we talked about the importance of fidelity. That doesn't just apply to us; it extends to our friends and family as well. That lying bitch is cheating on David and David is my friend. I will move mountains to protect him and I'll be damned if I let that sleezy bitch cuckold him while I sit back and do nothing. Do you understand me?" This was shaping up to be the biggest fight of our marriage. "Damn it, I am more than happy to lose Barbara as a friend. I don't want a friend who would do that to her husband; and when the shit hits the fan, I will tell her to her face that she is no longer welcome in this house. Now, are you going to tell me you expect us to sit back and do nothing while she destroys a good man, or are you going to help me do what has to be done?" Oh, brother, I was drawing a great big line in the sand, and I was hoping I wasn't sleeping on the couch that night!

Alex was quiet for a long time. When she finally blinked she said, "No, I'll help. That bitch is cheating and David deserves to know." She was quiet for a bit and then she added, "And if you ever do what she's doing, I won't hire a P.I. I'll just get a knife from the kitchen and kill you in your sleep."

You need understand what it means to me to have a wife I can trust. Knowing that she would never tolerate any infidelity any more than she would commit it is music to my ears. I just smiled and said, "Baby, I'd be disappointed in you if you didn't." I slept in our bed that night, although there was less sleeping than I expected. Sometimes you just need to count your blessings and it's best when you count them together. I learned the next day at work that Sean and Ned had similar experiences that night.

The three couples got together at Ned and Janet's house Tuesday after dinner and we talked it out. Sean, Ned and I would invite David out for a beer after work on Wednesday. Once away from work, we would make up an excuse and take him to our house, instead, where Alex, Debbie and Janet would be waiting. We'd sit him down with the wives sitting next to him, hand him a beer, and tell him what we knew. What could go wrong? Hell, we knew what could go wrong. We were going to rip a friend's heart right out of his chest and try to keep him alive when we did it. Everything could go wrong.

Wednesday was a painfully slow day. I tried to keep busy, but I got nothing done. Sean, Ned and I stayed on script. We invited David out for a beer after work and he happily accepted. Heading for the car, Ned said, "I just need to swing past the house for a minute. It won't take long." When we got to the house he invited us in. Alex, Debbie, and Janet were waiting in the living room. They were smiling, but they weren't hiding their thoughts very well. Ned said, "I'll get some beers."

The wives invited David to sit on the sofa while Alex and Debbie sat on either side. Janet sat on the arm of the sofa while Sean and I pulled up a couple of dining room chairs. Ned joined us, set the beers on the coffee table, and the room took on the unmistakable feel of am intervention. David was looking around the room and asked, "What's going on? Why is everyone acting so strange?"

Sean started. "David, you know we love you, guy. We really do. We'd never want to hurt you like this. Oh, hell, this is hard..."

The wives reinforced Sean's struggle. They held David's arms tight, put their heads on his shoulders, and echoed Sean's words.

Ned picked it up. "David, we were out for dinner and a little dancing two Friday nights ago. You were on the road, remember?"

Taking turns, we laid it out for him. He refused to see. We took our time. He got mad. We had our photographs and video. Then we showed him Harvey's report, played the audio recording and the brief video that was shot through the peep hole. We walked him through the evidence and explained it all to him. Piece by piece, we destroyed our friend.

There was a lot of crying that night and it wasn't just David. Nobody felt good about what we had done. We kept telling ourselves that if it were us, we would want to know. Even the wives had agreed with that eventually. Still, we had inflicted a terrible pain and suffering upon our friend and we felt for him.

David stayed at Ned and Janet's house that night. Janet called Barbara and told her that we all had too much to drink and she accepted the excuse. In the morning, Alex and I returned to the house and we all had breakfast together. Whether David slept that night or not, he was a new man Thursday morning. He knew the truth. He knew his mind. There was no forgiveness in him. First thing after breakfast, he called a lawyer he knew and got the name of a good divorce lawyer. The second call got him an appointment just before lunch. The third call got him the day off. When David made up his mind, he took action!

We offered that any of us would go with him, but he said he could handle it himself. We put all the photographs, videos, and files on a thumb drive and David prepared for war. By the afternoon he had cancelled their joint credit cards and divided their savings. He went into work long enough that afternoon to remove her from his retirement account, but kept her on his insurance for the time being under advice from his lawyer. At 5:30 PM he headed home to confront his wife.

None of us were there to witness the confrontation, but we knew the neighbors and we got a briefing. They heard no shouting. There were no crashes of lamps or glasses hitting walls. David walked into his house and about an hour later Barbara rushed out the front door with a suitcase, bawling her eyes out, barely able to stand. She collapsed into her car, cried for a time, and eventually left the property. From the moment she left the house until she left the property, David stood on the porch and watched his soon-to-be ex-wife make her exit from their marriage.

I want to say it was all over but the lawyering, but I'd be lying. You don't end a seven-year relationship and five-year marriage without pain. For the next few months, David was an unofficial member of three families. More often than not, he joined one household or the other for dinner. We went to ball games, hit the bar after work, and played a lot of golf on the weekends. He even joined us for a few nights out when the wives never let him leave the dance floor.

The day his divorce was final was a rough day for David. We drank way too much and had some horrendous hangovers the next day. David was surviving his divorce, but it was killing us!

Wives are sneaky little dears. Where we had to negotiate our intention to tell David what we knew about Barbara, they never told us about their plans to introduce David to every single female they knew. After a string of nights when different women just happened to show up wherever we were, it became a running joke between the guys, "I wonder who they've lined up tonight? Will she be blond, brunette, or redhead?" We let the wives hear us speculate on that. We started placing bets on their breast size, too. Okay, that part we kept to ourselves.