Exhausted, I settled in my pajamas and made a cup of hot tea. My body was a little sore from the fall, and I knew it would be worse in the morning. At almost ten, there was a knock at my door and I had no idea who it could be. I peered into the peephole to find James and opened the door. He scooped me into his arms and gave a relieved sigh as if he hadn’t seen me in months.
“Are you okay?” I asked, his hold as tight as possible.
“Yeah. I’m glad to see you.”
“What happened?” I asked, wondering if it was guilt he was feeling.
“I was in the middle of my appointment when we heard this loud bang coming from the back. I went to investigate and saw that her lattice was broken. I think I got a glimpse of someone running away.”
“Oh, my God,” I said, genuinely looking stunned, but for a different reason.
“We called the police and answered a few questions, but they said there wasn’t much to go on.”
I continued to gape at him. “Someone tried to break in?” I asked.
“Looks that way.”
“I wonder who it was.” My nerves were in overdrive, but I calmed myself down by remembering that I wasn’t in any criminal database.
“Who knows? It shook me up a little, and I wanted to check on you to make sure you were okay.” He hugged me tightly again.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” He pulled back and took my hands, then looked a little closer at my left one.
“What happened?” he asked.
“I, uh, tripped when I was running earlier. Just a scrape. You know me, I’m a klutz.” I smiled innocently and he returned it.
“I can’t stay. I have the children’s hospital in the morning.” He kissed me and told me that we would catch up the next day after he got off work.
That night, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, then at my scraped hand. That had been a close one. Too close. Who knew this venture would be so dangerous? I guess in this game you have to get your hands dirty sometimes . . . and scraped.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The Man Test
The Shanna incident convinced me to take a break from my spying gig. Though I waited patiently for the opportune moment, nothing presented itself. I researched other methods only to discover one dead end after another. Three weeks passed and I was running out of options, forcing me to weigh in on the only two I had left—wait it out or give it up.
One afternoon, I wandered out of my office for a break after completing a session with a violently arguing couple when I ran into a sobbing woman in the hall. She was in her late forties, perhaps an executive in her tailored suit and bobbed haircut. She was alone, and as a therapist I felt compelled to stop.
“Are you alright?” I asked. She glanced at me from behind her tissue.
“Yeah, I’ll be okay.” She waved me on as if I shouldn’t bother with her silly tears, but there was something all too familiar about her cry.
“Is there something I can do? Would you like me to call someone?” She blew her nose into the tissue.
“No, really I’ll be . . .” Then she lunged at me, letting out a resounding cry. I caught her in my arms while she sobbed on my shoulder, and I tried to comfort her as best as I could. Minutes later, she calmed down and pulled herself together.
“I’m so embarrassed. I don’t even know you,” she said sniffling.
“Don’t be. I’m a therapist. I see a lot of crying,” I said with a sympathetic smile. “What happened?”
“I’m getting a divorce.” She struggled to restrain new tears.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah,” she inhaled her sadness. “He had an affair.” Surprise, surprise. “And the worst part is I have a complete written account of what happened.”
“Really?” Go on . . .
“It’s so detailed. I keep reading it over and over again. The things he did with her are unbelievable. I can’t believe I was married to someone like that for sixteen years.”
“How is it that you have a detailed account of this affair?”
“Man Test,” she said with a straight face.
“Man Test? What’s that?”
“It’s a service that sends a woman to seduce your husband. If he falls for it, you get a complete report the next day.” My jaw dropped. What a brilliant idea! How did I not know about this? The wheels in my head were spinning so fast I could no longer focus on her or her situation. “That bastard,” she whispered under her breath.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Connie.”
I handed her my business card. “I’m Marin. I work in this building. If you need someone to talk to, please give me a call.”
“Thank you.” She accepted the card.
“Hang on, I have another one,” I said pulling out Telly’s card. “If you need a divorce attorney, this one is great.”
“I really appreciate this. Thank you, Marin.”
“You’re welcome.” She took the cards and turned to walk away.
“Connie,” I called after her. “You wouldn’t happen to have a business card for that Man Test service would you?” As luck would have it, she did.
I sauntered into a restaurant that evening where I met Telly for dinner. We hadn’t seen much of each other over the past few weeks since she was shacking up more frequently with Will, a man I still couldn’t warm up to.
“What’s going on with you?” she asked as I wiggled into my seat.
“The most amazing thing happened to me today.” I beamed.
“Did you win the lottery?”
“Nope.”
“Did you get a great deal on shoes?”
“Nope.” I shook with anticipation.
“Did you catch James cheating?” A laugh squeezed through my lips.
“No, but I will!” I screeched with the same sorority girl enthusiasm as Rachel. Telly waited for me to finish. I pulled out the business card and gave her a run down on Man Test.
“So, it’s like escorts with ulterior motives,” she said.
“Exactly.”
“Why didn’t I think of this? With all my client’s cheating spouses, probably wouldn’t be admissible in court though. Are you sure it’s legit?”
“Who cares? It is brilliant! They’re very discrete and work only on a referral basis. They don’t want the word to get out or else every husband and boyfriend will think they’re being set up and won’t be themselves and go for it. Which, now that I think about it, could actually be a good thing.”
“Probably not too good for business.” She looked the card over a few times. “So, what are you going to do?”
“Set it up, of course.”
“When?” she asked sipping her drink.
“As soon as possible. I look at it like this, I could play this game with James for who knows how long or I could send in the bait and watch him catch it like a stupid fish. I’m tired. I want this to be over so I can move on with my life.”
“Do you think he’ll go for it?” A dumb question in my opinion.
“Of course he’ll go for it. Cheating is all about opportunity. When a man encounters a discreet, mess-free opportunity to have sex with a woman he won’t say no. It’s in their DNA. There are always opportunities, especially for eligible guys like James. This is the ultimate test, finding out if he can resist opportunity.”
“So, you’re pretty much setting him up to fail?” she asked as if there could be another result.
“Yeah, that’s basically my take on romantic relationships now,” I said like a cynical champ.
“Doesn’t that belief make you less effective at your job?”
“I think it makes me more effective.” She shrugged. “Do you want to set one up for Will?”
“What? No,” she said.
“Oh, I get it, you’re in the bubble.”
“Bubble, what bubble?”
“Telly, I haven’t seen you in weeks. Your life is work and Will, work and Will. You’re trapped in this bubble where it’s all about
you two.”
“Call it what you want, but if I’m in a bubble so are you,” she said. I rolled my eyes scoffing. “Oh, come on. I know you like James.”
“Sure I like him, but I don’t have any real feelings for him that would put us in some kind of a bubble.”
“Well, he’s definitely in your bubble. The way he looks at you. I almost feel bad for the guy.”
“Now you know how I feel about everyone you date.”
She smirked. “Oh, is this what it’s like?”
“Yep,” I smiled.
She shrugged. “I’m just not a relationship person.”
“Neither am I.” I raised my glass and she toasted me in agreement.
The next day I scheduled the Man Test. I was relieved to know that in only two weeks the truth would be out, and I could finally stop pretending. It was the equivalent of quitting a crappy job. Since it was coming to an end, the next couple of weeks would be easy.
That same night, James made a surprise visit to my apartment. When I asked what his visit was for, he handed me a sleeping bag and waltzed in.
“What’s this?” I said, baffled. “Are we having a slumber party?” He took a beer from the refrigerator.
“Better! We’re going camping.” He threw out his hands as if it was the greatest news to have ever come knocking on my door. “Do you mind if I have this?” James pointed to the beer. I nodded, still in shock. Camping! No way, I was a city girl, a city girl who didn’t sleep on the ground.
“Sorry James, I don’t camp.” I handed the sleeping bag back to him.
“What? Why not?”
“Because, I don’t like bugs or roughing it.” I pleaded my case, which really wasn’t up for discussion.
“So you’ve been camping before? That’s how you know you don’t like it.” His attitude stunk of arrogance. I crossed my arms and reluctantly told him that I had never been camping. Once he got over the shock that a thirty-one-year-old had never slept in the woods, he began to explain how great it is. The fishing, the campfires, the scary stories, and let’s not forget the camp coffee.
“David and I always go camping for Labor Day weekend. This time we want you and Rachel to come.” He gave me a sappy face, but I wasn’t falling for it.
“Wait, did you say Labor Day weekend?”
“Yeah, it’s a tradition.” He continued to look hopeful. Labor Day weekend fell after the Man Test weekend. By then we would be broken up. In that moment I didn’t see the harm in saying, “Okay, I’ll go.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, I can see it means a lot to you.”
He grabbed me tightly and lifted me from the ground. I couldn’t help but laugh. His excitement was infectious. Besides, I had my own reasons to be excited.
The night of the Man Test arrived on the twenty-eighth of August. It was a Saturday night and James was going out with David and some other friends for a night on the town. He’d be drinking, of course, so his defenses would be down. The conditions were perfect to be ravaged by a beautiful woman.
I remembered going to the Man Test office a couple weeks prior. They don’t take appointments by phone. For whatever reason it was important for them to meet me and for me to meet the woman. Monica, the woman assigned to my case, had perfectly bronzed skin, long dark hair, and blue eyes that could pierce a man’s soul. Her voluptuous hips were paired with a tiny waist and full, perky breasts. She was a temptress all right, and as far as I could tell it was a foolproof system.
The case manager, Jane, explained the entire process. She told me Monica would locate James and approach him like any lady lusting after a man. Monica would talk to him casually so that he’d feel comfortable, and then crank up the intensity. Eventually, she would flat out ask if he wanted to go “home” with her, giving him all the reasons that he should. That was the test. His only options were to say no and get out of the situation or say yes and go for it.
In either case, Monica would document the entire night in a report, quoting things he said, explaining every detail of their intimate encounter, presenting every truth typed in black and white. When I asked Jane how many men passed the Man Test she said very few.
“There are faithful men, but we don’t usually get wives and girlfriends that are curious. Our clients are already suspicious. We have a saying around here—where there’s smoke, there’s fire.”
It was difficult to imagine any guy passing the Man Test, not James, Chad, Will, or even my brother despite his admitted fidelity. I lay on my bed thinking about how the night would play out. It was a quarter after eight and with any luck James and Monica had already met. I pictured James playing it cool at first, but he wouldn’t be able to resist her when she stared into his eyes with her crystal blue ones, cleavage showing, nipples hard, her hand on his crotch, telling him that no one would ever know. All because he’s a man, a reckless, lying, cheating man.
The next morning felt like Christmas. The day after the Man Test, the day I got my package hand delivered, disclosing all the dirty details of James’ casual encounter. The day wide open with nothing to do but sit tight until the courier delivered the news. I relished the lazy Sunday and avoided the one call I got from James. I previously told him I had a lot to do and wouldn’t have a chance to see him. Hour after hour, I waited. By two o’clock there was no news, and I was a little frustrated. I figured the later the message, the better the news. If there was a lot to tell then the report would be lengthy. Long reports take time to write. The thought of this made me giddy. Then, my palms became clammy as I let it sink in.
Even though I was okay with me being emotionally devoid in our relationship, it made me a queasy to think that James would do something so hurtful after being so loving and faithful. The way he looked at me, the things he said, his seeming sincerity. Was it really all for show? Were we both trying to put one over on each other?
Finally around five, there was a knock at my door. I opened it quickly to find a woman in a trench coat and sunglasses. Seriously . . . a trench coat and sunglasses. She was straight-faced.
“Marin Johns?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“This is for you.” She shoved the package in my hand. By her lack of warmth, I had a feeling the news was as expected.
“Have a good day, Miss,” she said and took off like a secret spy in the night.
I closed the door without taking my eyes off the brown envelope. My heart raced and my hands trembled. There it was, the moment of truth. I tore open the envelope and pulled out the thin report.
Dear Ms. Johns,
We are happy to report that James Young has passed the Man Test. This is an extremely positive indication that James is faithful even in the most tempting situation. Congratulations, we wish you and James all the best.
Sincerely,
Jane McGee
What? This couldn’t be right.
“He passed?”
I started to read the report and skipped down to the end where they explained how he denied Monica. I became furious, irrational, barely understanding the words I was reading. I wanted to faint, yell, and cry all at the same time. I ripped the report in half and let out a frustrated scream.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I stomped into my bedroom and slammed my hands against the wall. “Unfucking believable!” Through the rage, I managed to put on my shorts and running shoes. There was only one way to get out this kind of anger.
My run lasted a good hour that night, and I only stopped because my knee wouldn’t allow me to keep going. The words of the report resounded in my head. Why was this guy not taking the bait? I cursed James, cursed Chad, Man Test, and the last five months I had spent consumed with thoughts and research of infidelity. It wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t I get the one thing I wanted? Just this one little thing to set me free. Didn’t I deserve a break?
After a hot shower, I felt a little more relaxed. The report was torn and scattered on my living room floor. I wanted to read the encounter with an objecti
ve eye, so I pieced it back together with some tape. With a deep breath, I began reading.
It started almost as I imagined. Monica trapped him while he was getting a drink at the bar. Their conversation started casually, and then began to heat up. According to the report, James was very polite, but didn’t seem to respond to her advances. She spent the night talking on and off with James, and by the end of the night she laid down the law. He refused her by saying, “I’m sorry. You’re a beautiful girl and if I were single I would take you home in a second. But I’m not.” And he walked away.
I went over the report in my head again and again and gathered that he was interested, but declined because of me. How was it that of all the men in San Francisco, I had literally found the only ideal faithful one? James wasn’t a cheater, not that I would put it past him forever, but he was loyal. What was even more impressive was the fact that our relationship was still new. We hadn’t committed to each other with I-love-yous or moving in together. In truth, we were at a point where we had the freedom to walk away easily if he wanted. That’s when I realized that this was my karma. I took advantage of someone and this was the universe’s way of throwing it back in my face.
Well-played Universe. You really had me going
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Gone Fishin’
James didn’t buy any of my excuses to not go camping, so at seven on Saturday, I got a knock at my door.
“Good Morning!” Rachel said, beaming when I answered the door. Her chipper attitude was more annoying than usual since I hadn’t yet had my coffee. She strolled behind me as I went back to the bedroom to grab my things for the trip.
“You about ready to go?” she asked. Her eyes pried around my room.
“Just about,” I said, putting my toothbrush into my bag. I looked at my unmade bed, thinking how cozy it would be on that cool September morning. Ah, to be sleeping in. My eyes drooped at the thought.
“What’s this?” she asked with a youthful curiosity. It was my Man Test package. She held the business card in her hand, studying it for clues of its real purpose. The last thing I wanted was Rachel bringing it up in front of the guys, both were waiting safely outside. Just a guess, but that kind of thing could put a damper on the weekend.
The XOXO New Adult Collection: 16 Full Length New Adult Stories Page 217