There was a knock at my door. Who could be knocking? No one knows I live in this little dump. I’ve been here for nearly two months, since my wife announced she was bored and going on a date. More about that later.
She left. I packed and I left. She blamed me! If I weren’t so selfish, I’d let her have a good time now and then. This, after all was just a harmless fling.
I opened the door, a man about my age, mid 40s, nicely dressed, was standing there. “Jim?” he said, holding a business card in his left hand while offering me his right.
I did a shuffling with my hands, trying to decide whether to shake his, take the card, do both, or do neither. I finally laughed, used my left hand to take the card, shook his with my right, and looked at the card. It merely said, Betrayed Husbands Anonymous at the top and centered in larger print, one name, Ralph.
“Yes, uh Ralph, I’m Jim, Jim Anderson. And you are?”
“Just Ralph. You’ll understand why if you allow me to come in and talk to you.”
I laughed. I just couldn’t help it. My dear wife, who only two months ago wanted a one-time date, as a fling, was marrying some guy. She had filed for divorce, citing abandonment as her reason. Now, some guy seeks me out and hands me a business card claiming he is a member of a group of betrayed husbands. “Well, Ralph, why not? Anything you have to say to me must be better than any news I’ve gotten in the last, well, whenever.”
Ralph came in and we went to the kitchen table, the best place to sit and talk in my current shit-hole abode. As he was sitting down, I offered him coffee, he accepted and asked, “Do you have this morning’s newspaper?”
I opened my pantry drawer and got in the recycling bin. Right on top was the paper. “Here, I thought it a slow news day.”
He looked for the local news section and went to the second page, folded it back and pointed to an article. “Did you read this?”
“I hadn’t. It was about some brutal beating outside the hospital a few days ago. Police had determined the man who was beaten, a Dr. Michael Watson, was the victim of a random gang attack. He was seriously injured, though the nature of his injuries was not disclosed.”
“So?” I was confused. This guy surely wasn’t a betrayed husband, why was I reading about him?
“It seems Mr. Watson is living with a Roberta Dunstan. Bobbie, as she is called was married for nearly 20 years to Mr. Dunstan. Dunstan has some middle-management position. He does pretty well. Dr. Watson, however, was a surgeon.”
“Was a surgeon?”
“His unlisted injuries were mainly to his hands and his groin. It is unlikely he will ever operate again, in either an OR or a bedroom, if you get my drift.”
I laughed, nervously, “That’s not hard to follow. Hurts to think about.”
“Continuing with my story. Dr. Watson had a wandering set of eyes, which became fixated on Mrs. Dunstan. He pursued, then caught her. In the end, she decided to trade up. She magnanimously left her former husband with all their assets and their two children. Well, children is not an accurate term. Their daughter is 18 and in college, the son is 17 and a senior in high school.”
“Sounds like Mr. Dunstan got his revenge.”
“That is why I am here, Jim. I can assure you Mr. Dunstan had absolutely nothing to do with Dr. Watson’s beating.”
“Are you saying you did it?”
“Of course not, in fact, until earlier this morning I was unaware of the existence of Watson, the Dunstans, or you, for that matter. This morning, I was given the information I am sharing with you now and told to come here and share that information with you.”
Who is this guy? I scratched my head and looked at him. Clearly, someone was pissed at Doc Watson and it would seem likely it was the ex-husband. If he had nothing to do with the beating, why am I being told? “Okay, I give up. I cannot solve the riddle.”
Ralph smiled, “Very good! You cannot. The point is no one can. As you pointed out, it looks like Dunstan got revenge and yet, Dunstan is not guilty. No one will ever be convicted, or even arrested for this assault. Watson’s income possibilities are now few, and the former Mrs. Dunstan is in a real pickle. Dunstan will sleep well tonight and did nothing wrong.
“If I might ask, how are you sleeping?” Ralph paused and stared right through me.
How am I sleeping? Dunstan is sleeping well because he knows he’s gotten his revenge, seemingly without any personal involvement. Ralph is telling me he can get me revenge. “Ralph, let me ask you this, are you looking for revenge against your wife?”
“Jim, and this too, is important, I am not permitted to give you any detail of my life. Absolutely none.”
“It sounds to me like this organization is one which gets guys like you and me revenge on the cheating skanks and their lovers.”
“Again, I don’t want you to misunderstand. I never said anything like that. I never implied anything like that. If you draw an inference like that from what I have said, my advice would be, keep it to yourself. Say nothing about it ever, to anyone.”
Well, this is starting to make sense. This group is of people who don’t know each other and somehow that leads to “innocent revenge” for me. The ground rules are no one explicitly says that is what they are doing. “Oh, I understand, Ralph. You explain things quite clearly. If I were interested in becoming a member of,” I glanced down at the business card, “Betrayed Husbands Anonymous, what would I do?”
“There is a meeting at this address.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a card with the name of a restaurant and its address.
“That’s nearly 80 miles from here!”
“That is where the meeting will be held, it will begin promptly at 7:00pm, day after tomorrow. Are you interested?”
The group calls itself anonymous, maybe that is one of the ways they stay anonymous. “Sure, I’ll be there.”
“There is a private room in the restaurant. Tell the receptionist, you are part of the Petry party. When you get to the room, show them the card I gave you and present yourself as Ralph.” He stood, obviously to leave.
“Wait! I have about a thousand questions.”
“I have said what I came to say. Thank you and I wish you well.” With that he smiled and left.
I was excited for the first time since living alone. A chance at revenge without risk. This was some sort of a chain letter on steroids. Obviously, if I am ever asked who brought me into the group, all I can say is “Ralph”. Now, since I am Ralph, I don’t even know if that was his first name. It seems apparent that as I go along, I will get more instruction and information, which ultimately will lead to a bon fire with my ex in the middle. Did that mean I would, at some point, need to build and light the bon fire for some one else? Even if there is no chance of getting caught, could I batter the hands of a surgeon I’d never met? Revenge without getting caught is still not without remorse. I had thinking to do.
I needed to know more about my wife’s intended. Judy, my wife, came into the den one Friday night, dressed for an evening out. I had been home only a few minutes and was wondering why I did not smell dinner cooking. She announced she was going on a date. A fight ensued, a horn honked, and she was on her way. I decided I would not be disrespected, packed a bag and left. I found a crappy one-bedroom apartment I could rent month-to-month (bad as it is I bet I could have rented it minute-to-minute). Being honorable, I knew I’d still need to pay on our home expenses.
Knowing how well men do in divorces I was socking away all the cash I could. I searched for a private detective and found several here in town. I called one and described what I needed. My wife is now living in our home with a guy who drives a blue Toyota; find out who he is and what he does. It would cost very little to get that information.
Now, I had a day-and-a-half to think about what kind of revenge I wanted and what I was willing to do to have that revenge. Somehow it was easier when the law prevented me from seeking this revenge. No matter how safe, there is no way I am going to maim someone for life; it just isn’t in me.
++++++++++
I entered the restaurant and asked for the Petry party (I wondered if it was supposed to be reminiscent of pity party). I was led to a room with four tables with six chairs each. The room was half full of people. They looked up, said hi, and looked away. We were not looking to become friends, apparently. A man approached, “Hi! I’m Bill.”
We shook hands, “Hi Bill, I’m Ralph.”
“Oh, Ralph. Let’s see, you sit over at table 3,” he pointed, “on the end. Bob isn’t here yet. He’ll introduce himself when he arrives.”
Bill walked away and I went to my seat. I looked at my watch, it was 6:55. Just then, three waiters came in with trays. They set a variety of sandwiches, salads, and drinks on a table along the wall. Bill said, “Help yourselves.”
I got my food and drink and returned to my seat. By the time I got back to my seat the chair to my right was now occupied. “Hi, I’m Bob.”
“Hi Bob, I’m Ralph.”
“Ralph, my role here this evening is to explain what will go on. The first thing that will happen, after we’ve eaten is one of us will share his story. I want you to pay particular attention to what he says. These presentations take a particular form. One day you will be asked to make a similar presentation.”
“When will I be asked to do this?”
“Ralph, this is all a bit bewildering. Information is doled out to you. It is doled out for a reason and while it is uncomfortable to go through, as you are asked to do various things, I will assure you that you will never be asked to do anything that gives you pause.”
“Bob, I am worried. A man came to my apartment…”
“Ralph, I want you to hold that thought. One of the things which is absolutely necessary in our process is anonymity. You must never share with anyone any part of this process. Let me offer this. You have a concern that you will be asked to do something that is outside of your own moral code. I cannot guarantee you won’t be asked, but I can guarantee you will never have to do anything you are not comfortable doing.
“Oh, here. The presentation is about to start.”
A man stood, walked to the front of the room, and announced, “Hi everyone, my name is Mike.”
Everyone responded, “Hi! Mike.”
“I want to tell you my story. I am 46 years old. I was married for 24 years. Just before our 25th wedding anniversary, I came home and found my wife and my brother in bed together. They had been lovers for years. We had three children, the oldest and youngest were mine, the middle child was my brother’s.
“We had a family business. It is still run by my father. My father always favored my brother. I told the family I would no longer be a part of any business which included my brother. I was basically told not to let the door hit me in the ass as I left.
“I am now trying to build a business struggling against my own family. My brother is sabotaging me for his own entertainment. My former wife and brother are going to marry. My children are being turned against me.”
Mike stopped talking and took a sip from a water bottle. Then, resumed, “What I wish is my father could be persuaded to listen to what is really happening. I wish he could force himself to see my brother’s treachery, bleeding his business.
“I thank you all for listening.”
The whole thing was less than five minutes. As soon as he seated himself, the room was abuzz with people talking in pairs. In my case, Bob talked to me.
“What did you hear, if I might ask?”
“Mike mentioned no names. He spoke of a business, but nothing that would tell me what the business was. He was totally vague.”
“Good. At least partially good.” Bob was looking at me, thinking about his next statement. “Did Mike ask for anything?”
It hit me. “No. He asked for nothing. He did say he wished his father would listen and would find out what is going on.”
“Would you call his wish vague?”
“No, it was quite specific.”
“Do you think it called for any violence or illegal activity?”
I just smiled. An answer was not called for. I decided to offer, “It was also a wish, not a request. Mike has asked no one for anything.”
“There is a meeting in two weeks and another in a month. Could you be ready to present at one of those?”
I thought about the PI and his report. I would get that in a week. Depending on what it contained, I’d need to figure out what I should wish for. “Bob, it would be safer to ask for a month. What if I am not ready in that month?”
“You merely go to the meeting and report when you will be ready to present.”
“So, I show up here in a month?”
Bob smiled. “Hardly.” He gave me the location and time of the next meeting and his card. I was currently about 80 miles east of my home. The next meeting was in a little town about 50 miles northwest. The meeting was in a diner at 2:00pm. I’ll bet we will be the only ones in the place. Our last piece of business was Bob handing me his card. “Introduce yourself as Bob.”
I was driving home trying to figure this all out. It was easy, then it was impossible. Someone of us paired up people at different points of this process. Meetings were held everywhere, apparently. All of us were sent to different cities and used false first names, no one knew anybody, not even where they lived. So, we could all come up with our idea of revenge and tell the group. But what then?
I can do what Bob or Bill did; undoubtedly, I will. But they tell me I’m not going to be asked to do something illegal, so I won’t be asked to maim anyone. It seemed today’s request involved looking at the books of some mystery company. Not illegal, but I couldn’t look at them or know what I saw if I did. There was a big piece missing.
++++++
Life could have been so different. In almost every way Chuck’s life had ended that night. He came home and found his wife in bed with some guy. She should have known better. Chuck’s business was drugs, sex, gambling, and assuring his “company” had no competition.
Mostly, he kept competition from growing by explaining consequences to would-be competitors. Sometimes, they required small demonstrations of his potential sincerity. Of course, other times he had to actually carry out the consequences. The nice part of that, no one needed a second lesson in consequences; the first being terminal.
Chuck could not believe his eyes. His stupid wife knew what he’d do, and now he was forced to do it. He reached for his gun but decided these two needed to be punished, first. He threw the man aside and hit his wife, knocking her unconscious. He turned his attention toward the naked gentleman scrambling to get up. He never made it.
Chuck was in the process of hitting, kicking, stomping, gouging, and otherwise destroying his wife’s lover. He was beyond angry, but “a true professional”; he was taking his time. Like a mouse caught by a cat, the lover was in for a long day — his last.
Chuck heard a gunshot behind him, felt a sharp pain, fell to his knees, and lost consciousness. He awoke in a hospital bed, hand cuffed to the side rail. He found he was charged with one count of murder and another of assault. By the time his wife recovered, shot him, called 911, and got a response, her lover had died from internal injuries.
Chuck was a very wealthy man. He got a great attorney, plead temporary insanity and got 7-10 years for involuntary manslaughter. He was a model prisoner and out in seven years. He was full of fury.
He did have a prenuptial agreement and his divorce cost him nothing but legal fees. He ruined the slut financially, killed her lover, and was very disappointed he’d not done more. He was warned that if anything happened to her, he’d end up in prison for life. He decided he’d forgo any further revenge, until he found an ironclad way to attain it.
Chuck needed revenge. As he thought about it, who he took revenge upon was less important to him than exacting the revenge. One cheating slut was like any other. The men who helped them betray their husbands all deserving of a similar fate. Chuck could keep getting revenge, and as long as it was on other’s, equally deserving, he would never be caught.
Eventually, he came up with Betrayed Husbands Anonymous.
Chuck was a perfect conduit between people wanting revenge and people who could exact revenge. He started developing the means by which the two could be in contact and yet never meet.
++++++
The private eye’s report was revealing. My wife’s one-time fling was with a guy she worked with. Her definition of one-time must have been this was the one-time she’d tell me anything about it.
She and Bozo had fallen in love, and she was planning on dumping me and marrying him. Her plan showed thought, not good thought, and not much thought — but thought, all the same. She told me she was going out to provoke me. She was certain I would leave. Once I left, she could deny having gone out and file for divorce claiming I abandoned her.
The downside of her idea was the fact she and her lover were recognizable to at least three hotel desk people, on sight. Her company enforced no policy regarding married people being involved in the workplace. What form would my revenge take?
I was not tied to the area. My parents had retired to Florida, nearly a thousand miles away. I could just quit my job and disappear. But first, I needed her to be single, without good prospects, and preferably, unemployed.
Her current “love” was a cheater, surely, we could get him to cheat. Maybe, we could find a beautiful woman at the free clinic, who had a few nasty diseases, and entice her to seduce him. I liked that. Simple, yet almost surely would get the two mad at one another. If it became public, or they shared with other co-workers, that could get them fired.
Easy to think of, how on earth could it be done? What was the expression? Go big or go home? Why would I limit what I want? If they can’t do it, they can tell me. I was ready to go tell my story, with two days left.
++++++
I got to the diner. It was an old home, converted. You entered into what had been a dining and family room. There was a counter. One probably local man sat there with a cup of coffee. There was an open double-wide door into another room, possibly a bedroom in the past. Maybe a dozen or so men sat in there.
I entered. A man stood and approached me. “Hi, I’m Bob.” I told him.
He didn’t bother to give me his false name, he just pointed at an empty table and told me to sit there. I did and was joined by, “Hi, I’m Ralph.” Oh swell, I thought, we’ve run through the list of names apparently. “Hi, Ralph, Bob.”
He didn’t have much to say, neither did I. Soon it was my turn to stand and tell my story.
“Hi, I’m Bob.” The group gave me a not-so-warm, Hi Bob. “Let me share with you what happened to me. I was married to slut who was cheating on me. I was just too stupid to know it. She came to me one night and announced she was going on a date, just a one-time fling. She knew I’d leave her. I did and she filed for divorce claiming abandonment on my part. She and her one-time fling had been shacking up in local motels for months.
“I got that resolved. The divorce will be final soon. She and one-time are living in my old home. You know what? Here’s what I wish.
“He is a cheater, he’ll cheat, again. It would be nice if someone approached him, seduced him, and gave him a couple of particularly nasty diseases It would be great if that caused them public embarrassment and that cost them their jobs — they are in the public eye. Then, I could just up and leave. My profession will allow me to find work. I want my hometown in the rear-view mirror and a fresh start.
“Thanks for listening.”
I sat down. Ralph looked at me and smiled. “Believe it or not, as wishes go, I’ve heard more ambitious ones.”
“So, what’s next? Do I try to find some slut to help me with my idea?”
“No, let me be clear, you expressed a wish here this afternoon, I never want you to think of it, again. Never happened, your trip here is a figment of your imagination. If anything happens to your wife and her new lover, it will be a total coincidence. You will be able to look anyone in the eye and tell them you have absolutely no idea how any of it came about.”
“I can do that.”
“Now, let me tell you about membership in this organization. Fees vary. Sometimes people have violent or unseemly wishes, they end up having to participate in some violence. We have no free lunches. In your case, we are going to ask $2,500 for your one-time dues payment.”
He handed me a shoe box. “The next meeting you attend, you will have exactly two thousand five hundred dollars in this box. No one will count it. Can you afford that?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Sure, we are flexible. You have two meetings left in your membership. The next one, you pay your dues. The following meeting, you pick up a box like this one. After you leave the meeting, you open the box. On top you will find detailed instructions on what to do with the box. The rest of the contents of the box are covered. Under no circumstance are you to look and see what is under that covering.”
“So, I never know what request is in the box?”
“Bob, we have all manner of people in this organization. Most are haunted and flaky in their behavior. You, like me, have shown you say nothing to anyone. You can be trusted. There are two types of people in this organization: victims and victors. Depending on the wish being carried out, some of these victors are not nice people.”
“Swell. I will be handing a box of money to a criminal.”
“Bob! Stop it. You will do no such thing. You will hand a shoe box to a stranger.”
“Yeah, yeah. What are my chances of survival?”
“You will wrap the shoe box, in say bright green paper. Your instructions will include sitting in the post office, or a bus stop, when lots of people are around. You will be approached by a man who will ask if that is the package for Aunt Mildred, or something like that. My guess is you’ll survive.”
“Ralph, you said there was some flexibility in what I pay.”
“You pay $2,500 and make on delivery. For every additional delivery you make, knock $500 off.”
“That seems like a lot, for a low-risk delivery.”
“We find that many of our members will have nothing to do with violence. Not even delivering a shoe box which might contain a nonviolent or violent request. They must pay money, to avoid that exchange.”
“Aren’t you afraid someone will get caught and give us up?”
“Give who up, Bob? All you know about me is my name is Ralph.” He laughed at his own misstatement. You don’t know where I live, what I do, and have nothing to use to trace any of us.”
“What if the local sheriff happened into our meeting?”
“So what? What did he see? A couple of guys talking to other guys about marital issues. It might strike him as odd he’s never seen any of us. He might ask the owner who set the meeting up. What would that give him? I’m sure whoever arranged this is not here, now — and won’t ever be back.”
It was as close to iron clad as I could think of. Certainly, I could not tell anyone what my part had been in anything. I would have attended a few meetings in different cities, made a presentation, given a guy a shoe box, received a shoe box, and given that away.
Someone had gone to great care to design a system which enabled people to get revenge without participating in either the planning or the execution of that revenge. But the revenge didn’t fall off a tree and hit someone. No matter who, or whether I knew who, someone had to plan and execute this revenge. How did that get done?
I wrestled with that thought on the drive home. As I parked my car, I decided it was all the same to me to presume the revenge did fall out of a tree. Why would I want to know more than that?
++++++
I gathered the money. I decided to give them the $2,500. I had it in the account and getting the cash out of joint funds was a good thing. The ex could pay her half — which seemed just.
Another meeting on a different day of the week, in a different city, at a different time. I had a new identity and sought a different identity. I saw no one I knew, had no idea what was going on; it was comforting – things were just as they were supposed to be.
I was finishing my sandwich when Jim stood to speak. He said, “hi” we said “hi” and he started into his story. “I am married, my wife has three children, all conceived during our marriage; I fathered the middle one. The only parent my children have in common is their mother, each has a different father.
“Get this, my wife claims she has only had sex with two other men, one-time each, during our marriage. I am pretty sure she would deny that if you could pick up pregnancy off a public toilet seat.
“I am told I cannot be too specific here, but we need to find a tissue match for one of the children. My wife is not a match, and the children have no other blood relatives that we know about. Even though my wife only has had sex with three men in 18 years, she seems to have forgotten the other two’s names.
Jim stiffened. His eyes teared and he paused. “It is likely a beautiful child who has never done anything to anyone is going to die because he or she was born to a mother who didn’t even get the names of potential fathers. What saddens me is the slut is likely to get custody if there is a divorce.
“My wish is conditional. If the child dies, it will have been a painful and horrible life for an innocent. I hope my wife dies an equally horrible death, say chained to a bed in some foreign brothel. If the child lives, I’ll see to it we properly take care of the children, until the last is 18.”
The look in Jim’s eyes made me shiver. They were fixed, determined, and quite dead; devoid of any emotion. If I am any judge of character his wife would be better off in the brothel, than several more years with Jim.
My contact asked me for my shoe box. “How full is it? If I may ask.”
“Completely.”
“That is what we expected.”
“Wait a minute, I have wondered what is going on. It was meeting my needs, so I didn’t ask. ‘What we expected’ says there are some of you who are running this and that scares me.”
“Why? Might I ask?”
“Lots of things go on in my little part of the world, every single day. Way too much of it being things I don’t want to be aware of, let alone a part of. Now, I am not so prudish that because a – pardon me – sociopath like our speaker, has made a wish that is probably going to be carried out, I am not joined to him at the hip. But I am closer to him than I want to be.”
“You are afraid you are an accessory?”
I shook my head, “No, not really. I don’t know if Jim is a plant, actually has a wife, etc. I’ll never know what happens to her, if she really exists. You are a different story.”
“Why worry about me?”
He was starting to piss me off, this coy shit was wearing thin, “It is clear to me that I am at the end of the betrayed husbands route. Now, you need some or all of us to join the support group, or whatever you are called.”
“They were right about you. You have what it takes.”
I scowled at him and said as sarcastically as I could muster, “Just what does it take? That I have and you were all so right about my having?”
He threw his head back and laughed. “That.” He paused for a bit and then continued. “You are smart, quiet, aware, and thoughtful. Those are all necessary traits. You are right, of course, there are two halves to this organization. I’ll call them victims and victors.”
I looked at him, it didn’t sound right. “The opposite of a victim is not really a victor, is it?”
“Winners and losers.” He stopped to assess if I was with him. “Between husband and wife, one is a victim the other the victor. Our group doesn’t involve the betrayed, but we call them victors, anyway. That aside, this is getting to be a large group, there is much involved. We have a group who finds betrayed husbands, a group that arranges meetings, a group that plans, and a group that executes the mostly legal revenge.”
“You suggest more questions than you provide answers. I paid a lot of money, but it is a pittance toward the work you described. Are all these people volunteers?”
“I never thought about that. I can’t tell you much because I don’t know much. Everyone I know is a volunteer. I do know there are some who are not, but who and how many, I have no idea.”
++++++
Chuck’s pre-prison life left him with a personal fortune. He was happy to spend some of that fortune avenging the wrongs of cheating wives. His idea of a support group was great. There were plenty of husbands who wanted revenge but lacked the ability or the balls to carry it out. There was also an endless supply of felons, addicts, and other miscreants to execute the crimes. The tricky part was finding someone to create a plan to be executed — a hungry criminal will do anything for money, just not very well.
Another thing at which Chuck had excelled was planning. He decided the way to enable his support group with an endless supply of thugs and henchmen was to form a legitimate company, which in turn, could carry out various and nefarious tasks. Chuck found a couple of partners and formed Bright Edge Capital, whose purpose was to provide venture capital to new, emerging technology companies.
Chuck’s two partners were brilliant young guys, who needed capital, themselves, to get started. Chuck provided all the money for a 40% ownership, his partners holding 30% each. They thought it a great deal, they were the partners and held 60% of the vote. They had no problem with Chuck operating his small, “skunk works” on the side.
At the weekly partnership meetings Chuck was very helpful to the two entrepreneurs, who could tend to get too excited about some concept, which had no real chance to make money. They were also very “helpful” to Chuck, paying almost no attention to anything his skunk works was doing. It was a match made in heaven, with an unknown to most, dark, dark side.
One legitimate business the skunk works undertook was a multi-city detective agency. The revenge business would need private investigators, who might as well do work for others, as well.
The second business Chuck established was Perfect Project Planning. There were so many small businesses in need of temporary help to: build their new offices; install major office equipment; set up an accounting system; and a variety of similar tasks. Perfect was also a place from which to pay planners of revenge.
Chuck’s partners were close to telling him not to do his current plan, until he assured them, he would still make the weekly partnership meetings. Chuck claimed boredom and wanted to do a “real” job. He wanted to run a local office of Perfect Project. So, in addition to being on the board of Perfect, and its de facto CEO, he was a second-tier executive, working 300 miles from Perfect’s central office.
Chuck found a former BHA member, who was an accountant. The accountant’s wish had been a parking lot mugging gone bad. His ex-wife’s new husband had been fatally shot during the robbery. The thief got away with $47.00. Like Chuck, the accountant had no remorse and a newly found appetite to “help” others. Chuck had an accounting system which would launder his own money, and cash from the support group, to go with regular business payments, so his office turned a small profit each month.
The accountant quickly pointed out to Chuck that Perfect would need to hire women. Failure to do so would bring down the Equal Opportunities people. So, the office where Perfect was headquartered did legitimate work, with a balanced workforce and the BHA work, done only by men, was done from a different, private office. The men who worked there were contractors for, rather than employees of Perfect.
Every presentation by every member of Betrayed Husbands Anonymous was recorded. The recording was given to one of Perfect’s project planners. His role was to make the wish a reality.
Nearly every contract employee of Chuck’s branch of Perfect was a former BHA member. They provided several services: arranging the time and place for meetings; recruiting new members; adding members to Perfect’s consultants; and planning through execution of all wishes.
++++++
There was a knock at my door. A man was standing there holding a card. The card was from Betrayed Husbands and the centered name was Ralph. The man who handed me the card said, “You may call me Chuck. [author’s note, this is the founder, Chuck, though he will lie about it.]”
“That’s a new twist. Usually, a man gives me a card and name which are the same and I know – not representative of anything. Now, you give me a name different from the card, which I believe is yours.”
“They told me you were smart. May I come in?”
“Certainly, Chuck. I have been wondering who would approach me and when.”
“I guess I drew the short straw and they sent me.”
“Might I ask who ‘they'”, I said with air quotes, “is?”
“Well, you might, but I am not at liberty to divulge those for whom I work.”
“Okay, Chuck, let me have it, why are you here?” I gave him my warmest smile; I didn’t want to put him off.
“First, I have some news. The company your wife works for is about to have a major overhaul. They have had no morals clause for some time because the man who runs this part of the organization, has no morals. It turns out, he is about to be taken to the cleaners by an irate wife, who has a number of particularly nasty STDs.”
“I hope he didn’t get them from my soon to be ex.” I laughed.
“You will get a kick out of this. His wife was no longer willing to sit and pretend not to know of his philandering and decided to get a little on the side, herself. Being a neophyte, she contracted the diseases and gave them to her husband.
“Her fuck-buddy, as it turns out was the man your wife is involved with. He was infected by some person who seduced him, oddly just as you wished. From there it is unclear. He, of course fucked your wife and the boss’s wife. Your wife also fucked the boss. So, you would need timing information and who knows what else to actually know who gave what to whom. But, the wife, being no fool, accused her cheating husband, who in turn blames your wife.”
“Oh, that’s sweet.” I could not have been happier. “Sounds like she is the victim in this and ends up wearing the shame of the ‘perp’. I’m sure her boyfriend is not going to volunteer he is fucking the boss’s wife.” I could not contain my glee. “Gee, I feel bad for her.”
Chuck was smiling, too, “Yes, I can see you are heart-broken; maybe in time you will get over it.”
“Well, I hope not, but we will see.”
“Unfortunately, it gets worse for her. The wife is the daughter of a past CEO of the company. She has complained to the company head quarters and all of them are going to lose their jobs. It is going to take corporate a couple of weeks to get replacement personnel, so this mass dismissal is unknown to anyone local. It is a great time for you to quit your job and disappear.”
“Well, I have wanted to go out on my own for a while now. But I can’t see how I could possibly do that. I have to get established in a strange city, that could take years.”
“More good news. I am a mid-level manager in a company, Perfect Project Planning. I have a certain amount of latitude, the owners don’t pay attention to what I do, only how much I make. I can offer you a job. Some of what you do would be for Perfect, some of what you do would be for Betrayed Husbands Anonymous, but paid by Perfect, and some of what you do would be for yourself and paid by Perfect.”
“Chuck, being honest, I don’t want to get involved in criminal activity. The guy I saw the other day wanted his wife to die in a foreign brothel. I can’t say whether she deserves such a fate, but I can’t be the one to condemn her to it.”
“You don’t need to worry about that. Our part of the victors has nothing to do with anything illegal. Well, that’s not 100% true. Your wish was that people got STDs; it turns out they did. If someone did something to cause that, I suspect it is a crime.”
“That I could live with. One way it might happen is to hang out at a free clinic and offer some pretty young thing a wad of cash to payback what her cheating boy friend did to her. Who’s she going to tell and what would she say?”
“Exactly.” Chuck looked like he was going to add his usual, disclaimer, but he let it go. “I have been informed that you are a guy who can put a plan together. If you come and work for Perfect, you will have resources to help you. If you are asked to do something you are not comfortable with, decline. I will be your boss; I guarantee I will support you.”
“How much time can I devote to my new business?”
“At first, for the first three months, 10 hours a week plus anything over 40. Then, a quarter of 20 hours, then 30. I can’t predict, nor can you how successful your new endeavor will be. You may want to break away from Perfect or stay in some sort of profit-sharing arrangement. You and I will work that out.”
“So you will own some part of my business?” I didn’t like that.
“No. Unless, you want to remain a part of Perfect Planning. If you do, we will work something out. If we can’t, you can go your separate way.”
“Why would I stay?”
“Two reasons. First, you might enjoy helping guys like yourself, who have been betrayed but have no way to exact revenge. Second, Perfect provide a wide range of client services. You might prefer doing that work.”
“Several possibilities, I like that.”
“Oh, I almost forgot. I have another story for you.” Chuck sat forward; it was clear he liked the story he was about to tell. “You may remember hearing about a guy who found his brother fucking his wife. He lost his wife, his children were being turned against him, and his father sided with the brother. The poor guy just wanted his dad to see he’d been wronged.”
“Sure, I remember.”
“There little business is pretty nice. Worth about 5 to 6 million. Dad got an offer of $11 million, providing the business stood up to a private audit. Of course, he greedily agreed. The auditor said the business was too risky and pointed out nearly $500,000 in embezzled funds.”
“Let me guess — the brother.”
“Yes, and he’d used the money to do things like seduce our member’s wife, and 6 or 7 others. He also was hiding gambling debts. His father was furious. The brother had sworn he didn’t do any of those things. Dad now knew him to be a liar and a thief. Both are traits he will not abide.”
“Our guy must have been happy with that.”
Chuck shook his head, “I’ll be honest with you, I don’t like the ending here, but our member does, so that is more important. The audit showed our guy was the big reason the company was successful, and his big brother was not only limiting the success, by stealing from his family, but blaming things on our guy. The father fired and disowned his former, favorite son and begged forgiveness of the other.”
“What’s not to like?”
“The brother could no longer support the wife, she wanted to go back to her husband, and he took her and the kids back. Personally, I think he was so pleased to have beaten his brother, finally, he overlooked her past sins.”
“Maybe he did it for the kids and will dump her, later.”
“Could be. But the important thing is he got what he wants. He didn’t get what I would have wanted, but he’s not trying to please me.”
“What about the guy who wants his wife in a brothel?”
“Do you really want to know? I can tell you.”
“No, I don’t think I do.”
“As you wish. So, what do you think?”
Epilog
I had one final meeting. I picked up my box and delivered it. I worried about it, but it turned out to be a total non-event. Oh, I should have said, I attended that last meeting from my new hometown.
I took the job and moved from that crap apartment to a nice home. I had my lawyer settle with my wife. She got half of our current holdings and no on-going support. Neither of us had jobs (if asked my employer was willing to say he’d never heard of me — he was never asked, I suspect she lacked the resources to look for me.)
It has only been a couple of months, but I like everything about my life right now. I am having no problems finding women who are looking for a good man and am certain, if I am patient, I will find the right one before too long.
