|Cheater (standard:drama, 7894 words)
|Added: Feb 18 2006
|Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
|Frank finds out his wife of 14 years is cheating on him......................
It was the hottest day yet this summer, and it showed. You could feel the sun blazing down on the front door of the house and it was closed. Hot from the other side. It had been hot like this all week, but today it was over 100 degrees. I sat in my living room watching the 12 o'clock news. “It's about time Whitney divorced Bobby, he had her on crack and stuff. That girl couldn't even finish her own song.” As I sat there laughing at the television, my wife came in and say's “How about you take the kids to the beach. Can you call off this afternoon?” I hadn't been to the beach in a long time. As a matter of fact, the last time I was at the beach, I found a twenty dollar bill floating in Lake Erie. “I probably can get today off boo. Let me call real quick and see while you think of what beach we should go to. We are not going to belle isle with all those ghetto people.” She smiled and said “Ok, and I know.” I had a job as an accountant with the biggest tax law firm in the city. I had got this job by luck, they needed someone good with numbers that was black (and of course good looking) and I needed a job. Perfect match, we've been together for a while now. My boss was an 80's diva turned 45 year old divorcee' with two kids. She was kind of a mix between Angela Bassett and Vivica Fox with an ass like J Lo. I can tell she would if she could and I probably would too, but I love my family. If there was an empty closet and enough Egg Nog at the Christmas Party, I might just regret it. I un-assed myself from the couch and headed for the phone. After short negotiations, it was set. “Man it is hot as hell in this house” I said as I looked for my wife to tell her the news. “Daddy I wanna go to Belle Isle, all my friends are going to be there.” “Me too daddy, Stephanie said her family is gonna be there.” My daughter's were always my kryptonite. It was so hard not to give them what they wanted and their mother hated it. Sometimes I think she was jealous of her daughters. I guess no matter what the relationship is females just cannot get along. “Fine my little black princess, we can go to Belle Isle. Go get ready.” As they ran to their room to become socially noticeable, I looked for my wife so we could plan. Our house was about 120yrs old. It only had one owner previously and their family stayed here since they built it. We moved here about 5 years ago. I picked it out because it reminded me of the house I grew up in. It was also the house of domestic violence. It's probably the only difference between the two. My wife and I never argued and we always had fun. Even if it was playing hide and seek with the kids in the house, we always had fun. This house provides some great hiding place for little female monster hiding from their father, and it also came equipped with a great deck in the backyard. Sometimes I stare into space and just think about 14 years ago when I had my first daughter and compare it to now. I'm happy with my family life and my professional life, my life period. “Baby we're going to Belle Isle. I wanna stop at the store right quick and pick up some small things, make sure the girls fix their sandwiches and snacks while I'm gone so we can leave within the next hour. What suit you wearing?” She looked at me and replied “I can't go; I got an important client coming to the office at 2 to close on a deal I've been working on. But we can all meet up for dinner at Chi-Chi's later. I'll pay.” Of course I was disappointed because it's never the same without her. She hasn't been to the beach with us in a long time. Sadly I replied “baby you know I really want you to go, but business is business. What time you wanna meet up for dinner?” She was walking out of the bathroom with her toothbrush in her mouth and said sarcastically “around 8pm. Make sure ya'll are not late Frank, you know how you three are never on time for anything.” Remember when I said I thought she was jealous of her daughters, there she goes again. She used to say that about us. “Whatever Vita, you need to be there at 8pm nigga don't be late” I said as I headed for Vickie. A 1992 pearl white Ford Mustang was the car associated with the name Vickie. She was my third baby. I love this car. Convertible, roll bar, spoiler, gold 100 spoke 18 inch BBS's, and a pair of 15's in the trunk. I took her everywhere I went, unless it was the whole family traveling. I slid inside Vickie and pulled out the driveway. “There goes that damn car again. Who the fuck is that?” I asked to myself as I pulled over to talk to my neighbor. “Man, who is that driving that Ls, he's always creeping around the neighborhood. Do you know?” My neighbor looked at me and said “naw man, I asked that too. I even checked around the hood Click here to read the rest of this story (554 more lines)
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