follow the husbandMature

God, how awful, he thought, as he started his mercedes and drove off. This plan had been in the works for months, and still she stood by him. She'd been through guilt and depression, still trying to please him. But why? He was horrible to her.

He watched the raindrops as they left tiny reflections of white-picket fences for the neon of the city. It was about six months ago when he finally admitted the truth to himself. The truths, as it were. He hated his life. He and his wife were on such divergent paths, it was hopeless to try to stay together. And, most important, he was a pussy.

Rich parked in an alley and entered through the back door of Azure. He smiled, instantly at peace with the lilting sounds of the saxophone and the soothing smells of the bistro kitchen. In truth, he owned the place, though he could never tell Jenna. It was part of his life rehabilitation plan.

As he approached the bar, Sara greeted him with a warm smile and a cold martini.

"How goes the list?" she asked, as she did every night.

"Not well", he replied, sipping his martini.

Sara was a friend and confidant. That fateful night six months ago with one-too-many of these very martinis, they had each made a list with the help of the other.

Number one had been easy: To buy this very place. Check!

Everything else was a little more complicated.

"She didn't say a word?"

"She got drunk and fucked me. It was terrible. I was terrible."



"Are you about ready to re-think this plan?"

"I can't. If I leave her, she'll be playing the victim forever. She has to leave me. She needs to...for lack of a better term...nut up on this one."

Sara thought for a minute before straightening herself. "The band's really good tonight. You should book them for a regular gig."

The End

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