I wasn’t sure how to respond after learning that our law firm was just another shell corporation of a wealthy billionaire with a questionable legal standing. Physically, Lenny didn’t seem to fit my profile of a gangster. I always pictured mob guys to be fat Italian men with balding heads that talked with a Brooklyn accent.

 Lenny was none of those things. He somewhat resembled a middle-aged Paul Newman: confident, if not cocky in his appearance and mannerisms. I tried to show no reaction in hearing what they were telling me.

“So, Jack, what are your thoughts?” Lenny asked. “It makes me nervous when I can’t read a person, and your expression doesn’t reveal much.”

“I’m trying to process all of this. This has been a lot to take in all at once. I really don’t have enough information yet to render an opinion one way or another. I’m still trying to figure out how I fit in with your plans. I am fully aware that knowing more than I need to can be a liability for me.”

“Damn, you’re a lawyer for sure… Cold, calculating, and direct. After you sign the contract you can ask me anything. After all, as my attorney aren’t our conversations privileged?”

“To an extent. It doesn’t protect you from a Federal subpoena. What exactly do you expect of me? I won’t do anything illegal or even bordering on illegal. A big salary doesn’t do me any good if I’m in federal prison. I ask again, what exactly is it you expect of me?”

“I expect you to do what you do best and represent me in my legal matters. There is nothing I do that is outside the law. With you representing me, I’m confident it will remain that way. If you think some of this is drug money, you’re correct.” He paused before adding, “I invest heavily in several pharmaceutical corporations.”

“I’m not as well-versed in corporate law. I’m a defense attorney, but you already know that. So, I ask again, why me?”

Lenny laughed and said, “Are you trying to talk your way out of a job?”

“No, just trying to understand exactly what the job entails.”

During our conversation, Big Bob nervously clicked his ballpoint pen. For me, the incessant clicking was torture, almost like having someone scratch their nails across a chalkboard.

“Bob, may I borrow your pen?” I asked, holding out my hand.

He hesitated before handing it to me. I glanced at him briefly and then dropped it in the trash. Bob looked at me like he was about to say something, but Lenny laughed and said, “Now that is what I’m talking about! Sign the job proposal and nondisclosure agreement, Jack. We’ll work out the details later.”

I flipped through the lengthy contract quickly and said, “In matters of business, I always talk it over with my wife first. Can you give me the weekend to look over these documents?”

“Of course. I tell you what, I can do better than that. Meet me at Riverwood Country club Saturday morning at eight and we’ll finalize the details. Bring your clubs. T-time is at nine.”

“Riverwood Country Club? That’s an ‘exclusive members’ only club.”

“Of course it is… and as of now, you’re a VIP member.”

“Just like that?” I asked.

“Yep, just like that. I own the club,” Lenny chuckled.

When they left, I called Pennie and told her to finish whatever she was working on and go home early, but she declined, saying that she wanted to finish the day so she could sort through the files that were dropped off earlier. I put Lenny’s employment proposal in my briefcase and headed home.

*****

As I put together the stir fry, I found it difficult to focus. My once routine life was in upheaval between the revelations about my wife and the possibility of working exclusively for a billionaire with questionable business practices. I knew that seemed a harsh judgment, but I was pragmatic to a fault—now more than ever. My father used to say, “No matter how you dress a pig, it’s still a pig.” I wasn’t so naïve to believe that Lenny or any other mega-wealthy person didn’t skirt the law.

Lost in thought, I snapped back into reality when the rice steamer dinged. I always enjoyed cooking; Marika… not so much. She could do a good job of it, but she was always so busy that her menu usually consisted of microwave warm-ups or hotdogs and canned chili.

Needless to say, take-out was frequently on her menu. I had no idea how she maintained that gorgeous figure with the crap she put in her mouth. Suddenly, my thoughts were diverted again by the phone ringing.

Glancing at the caller ID, I picked up and said, “What’s up, babe?”

“I just picked up Timmy from daycare and wondered what you wanted to do about dinner?”

“We’re having chicken stir-fry with rice and kale salad. I came home early and decided to use my culinary skills.”

“Sounds yummy, but are you sure it’s all right to be taking this time off? After all, you just started your new position.”

“We’ll talk about that later. Right now, I need to concentrate on not burning dinner,” I said, ending the call.

I noticed a new notification showing I had a message on our home phone. I dumped the steaming hot food from the wok into the serving dish and opened the oven to check on the rolls.

Nothing like the smell of fresh-baked bread, I thought.

The answering machine beeped again as I pushed the message button.

“You have one new message… Beeeeep… Jack, it’s Marsha. Call me it’s important.”

I immediately called Marika’s mother. She picked up on the first ring.

“Jack?”

“Hey, what’s up? You sounded upset on the phone message.”

“Some strange guy called me saying to check my mailbox. He said he had some things about Marika he wanted me to know about. I found a folded envelope that had a naked picture of her posing on a beach. Do you know anything about this?”

I hesitated to answer. I couldn’t see how explicit the photo was. If I avoided answering or acted ignorant, she’d know I was lying, so I took the diplomatic approach and said, “I’m aware she did some modeling in college, but I think you need to talk with your daughter about this. Was there a note or a list of demands?”

“No, just the photograph. I also called him back, but the number was no longer in service. Jack, what’s going on? What’s this all about?”

“Where did the postmark say it was mailed from? I’m assuming there was no return address.”

“No, nothing. No return address, no postmark or stamp, either.” Marsha paused and then gasped suddenly. “Oh my God! Whoever put this in our mailbox knows where we live and our phone number. Should I call the police?”

“I wouldn’t do that. All that will do is probably draw some form of retribution from whoever this is.  Hold off on informing anyone and keep this between us for now. I’ll look into it right away.”

“Okay. I trust you, Jack. Have Marika call me.”

What my mother-in-law didn’t know was that I knew exactly who it was and that I needed a plan. Andre was obviously letting us know he was serious.

*****

A half-hour later, Marika arrived home with our son. I sent Timmy to wash for supper and pulled my wife aside to tell her what had transpired earlier. She went pale, hearing about the phone call and photo.

“Jack, I told you,” Marika whispered in a strained voice. “I told you Andre wasn’t going to just let me walk away.”

“He didn’t give a list of demands,” I replied.

“He didn’t have to, did he? We already know what he wants. This was a warning—like firing a warning shot across our bow.”

“There has to be another option. I don’t want you making more porn movies for him.”

“I’ve exhausted every option I could think of. If you have an alternative plan, let me know. He holds all the cards. He can destroy our family, your job, and my business. He didn’t make any written demands because he doesn’t leave evidence. He just did enough to let us know he’s serious. Andre is like a slippery snake. If you give him money, he’ll be back for more and more.”

“Hmmm, I think I might have a plan. It’s a long shot but a possibility.”

“Oh, yeah? What is it?”

“Give me a couple of days first and I’ll tell you, okay? In the meantime, talk with your mom. She’s a nervous wreck.”

“I trust you, but what other choice do I have?” Marika sighed before changing the subject. “How’d your first day as partner go?”

“Actually, I won’t know that until tomorrow.”

“You’re working Saturdays?”

“Yeah, but not at the office. We’re meeting on the golf course.”

“That sounds tough, especially since you golf virtually every Saturday. It won’t even dent your schedule.”

“Seriously? This is different. This is business. They’re my bosses, Marika. I can’t play my usual game and hustle these guys like my regular foursome.”

She gave me a mock sympathetic look. “Aww, poor little you… now you’ll have to buy your own beers!”

*****

As a regular golfer, I had played most of the courses within the state, but Riverwood was one of them I hadn’t been on. This club even had gate guards—probably to make sure riffraff like me wouldn’t infect their exclusive snobs' retreat. Maybe I was naïve, but I believed that no matter how much wealth I’d accumulate, I’d never become one of them.

The uniformed security officer examined my identification, checked his clipboard, and instructed me to park in the VIP area. As soon as I popped my trunk open, a middle-aged man dressed in an official course pullover approached me. He said his name was Marvin and would be my caddy for the day. I thanked him and told him I carried my own clubs.

He insisted, saying his services were already paid for. He also explained the rest of our foursome would meet us at the course entrance. I wasn’t about to argue, so I let him take my bag and followed him. When we walked past the sprawling clubhouse, I couldn’t help but notice how the place reeked of wealth.

“Jack! I’m glad you could make it,” Lenny said with a grin as we approached. He offered me a firm handshake and added, “This is John Peterson, our club pro, and of course you already know Bob.”

Peterson tipped his hat at me and I shook hands with Bob. I noticed they had opted to use carts.

Why have caddies if you’re riding? I wondered.

“Gentleman,” I said, “I believe I need the exercise. I think I’ll walk.” I pulled a tee from my bag and Marvin handed me my driver.

“Fine with me, Jack,” Lenny replied. “But I’ll take the cart, unless someone wants to carry the beer cooler,” He chuckled.

It was then that I noticed what appeared to be the butt of a revolver underneath the jacket of Lenny’s caddy. His caddy was the same bodyguard I’d seen at the office. Lenny decided to walk with me as the cart followed close by.

On the First Tee, my first shot was center fairway. John’s drive was just a few feet further than mine. We both looked at each other, knowing where the competition was. I had played golf in high school and college, and I still played weekly, but my regular foursome didn’t provide me much competition. I was familiar with John Peterson, even though he didn’t acknowledge me.

He and I were finalists in the Firecracker 4th of July tournament, about four years ago on the public links. We’d ended up tied for second at eight under. I remembered my putt on the eighteenth was a lip hanger that everyone (including me) thought would fall, but it had stubbornly just hung there, teetering on the edge of the cup.

Today was different, though. I needed to check my naturally competitive juices because this was about business; and rule number one in the business of golf handbook says: the boss always wins. Lenny’s second shot was a surprisingly well-struck five iron that placed him on the green at about twenty feet from the flag. John was next, and he, too, was on in two at around ten feet. Bob was somewhere in the rough, cursing at his poor luck. It seemed it was up to me.

Marvin handed me my five iron and I looked at him, deciding if I was going to check my competitive nature or play it to win. I opted to play it out. My swing was true, putting me around four feet from the hole and setting me up to birdie. Not wanting to outdo Lenny, I deliberately two-putt for par.

As I was waiting my turn to drive on Tee two, Lenny came up and said, “You lay down like that again, you can kiss that job offer goodbye.”

I was about to respond, but he cut me off and added, “I don’t need fucking ass kissers on my payroll. Play your game straight up on the golf course and off. Got it?”

Realizing he was as perceptive as his reputation, I simply replied, “Yes, sir. It won’t happen again.”

“That’s a good man. Now, go show that pompous pro how the game is played.”

“Okay, but how did you know about my game? We’ve never played before, have we?”

“Jack, don’t be so naïve. Do you really think I’d hire you to be my exclusive attorney without checking you out? I know everything there is to know about you.”

“You had me investigated?”

“Yeah, I did—but we’ll discuss that later. Right now, I want you to show me your ‘A’ game.”

The competition was on. John and I quickly pulled away from the rest of them. On the front nine, we were tied and traded the lead all the way to the eighteenth where I tried a difficult drive that hooked into the rough. John decided to lay up center fairway; he held a distinct advantage being the course pro. I had gone for more than I should have, but taking risks was my style. John was two-fifty straight away.

I was one-seventy-five with tall grass and an elm tree to contend with.

Marvin looked at my predicament and said, “I’d go with a four iron and lay up to the right of the green.”

“That’s the safe play for sure, but I’ll go five iron straight through the low hanging limbs. With any luck, I’ll be on the green setup to birdie and be under seventy.”

Marvin smiled and handed me the five iron. When I lined up the shot, I knew the odds were against me. Just as I suspected, my ball plowed through the low-lying branches with leaves flying. I was a bit strong but landed on the green. Everyone applauded and I felt confident, if not cocky as I handed Marvin my club. However, what is it they say about counting your chickens?

John stroked a beautiful shot that landed with a roll, taking him twenty feet from the pin. Not an easy putt, unless you knew the course like he did. I had to congratulate him after he dropped in a birdie. To tie, I needed a very makable fifteen-footer; a putt that wouldn’t happen. I settled for a par and sixty-eight for the round.   

John commended my game and asked me if I was going to the club bar. I looked at Lenny and he nodded no, so I politely declined, saying we had business to discuss. That’s when Lenny summarily dismissed Bob, telling him he’d see him at work. Bob appeared to be unhappy, being tossed aside like yesterday’s trash.

We sat on a fairway bench and drank a beer. Lenny was the first to speak.

“I like your style, Jack. You play to win. However, there is a time in golf, like in business, when the smart play is to lay up.”

“I’m aware that almost every move in business, law, and sports can be judged in hindsight. Your murder case is a good example. If I had taken the ‘smart’ play and settled on the plea bargain the prosecution had offered of forty to life, you wouldn’t be sitting here on this beautiful Saturday afternoon talking to me. I believed I could win when no one else did, just like today on the golf course. What do you think? Should I have ‘laid up’ on your case?”

“Point made.” Lenny grinned. “So, did you look over my proposal?”

“I looked it over with Marika and it seems to be a very generous offer. In all honesty, I have a few reservations.”

“I’m sure you do. What are they?”

“I’ve done some investigating of my own. It is obvious your rapidly growing wealth had some questionable beginnings. One day you appeared to be a struggling small business entrepreneur, and a few years later, you were a diversified conglomerate. The internal revenue has been watching you closely for years, and it seems you are in perpetual audit.”

“Jack, what you’ve just described is a majority of the successful businessmen in this country. When I told you I’m one hundred percent legal, I was honest. Problem is that public perception says otherwise. I already have a team of tax attorneys and investment experts. What I lack is a personal lawyer to deflect everyone and anyone that tries to blindside me with scams and false accusations. That’s where you come in.”

“I’m flattered but if you’re basing this on my defense of your murder case, I just got luc—”

“Lucky? Bullshit! I knew the evidence was overwhelmingly against me, but that didn’t deter you in the least. Just so you know, I really was innocent. It was all an elaborate frame job from my competitors. All that tainted evidence was planted and you convinced the jury of that with a skill that would have made Clarence Darrow jealous.”

“I’m glad you appreciate it,” I said. “But we both know it was a crapshoot at best. Before I agree to be on your team. I have a few more questions to ask.”

“Ask away.”

“Earlier, you said you had me investigated. For what? What did that entail?”

“Well, uh… everything. The position you will hold for me demands total disclosure. Don’t worry, your information will be held in strict confidence.” Lenny looked me in the eyes, unblinking.

I needed to know if he knew about my present dilemma, so I asked, “Did you investigate my wife and family also?”

He didn’t hesitate to answer. “Of course, I did. I told you I knew everything. It’s a matter of self-preservation for me.”

“So, you have leverage on me?”

“Let me explain how this works, Jack. You’re going to be privy to every transaction and deal I have from the past, present, and future. Information is the real wealth. The Feds are snooping about in my personal shit constantly. Did you notice them watching us on the street across from the fifth tee?”

“Really?” I frowned in shock. “I… I wasn’t aware.”

We stood and strolled slowly toward the clubhouse. There was a lot going on here, and this talk didn’t ease my apprehensions.

“Jack, you can understand why I vetted you, can’t you?”

“I guess so. What do you know about my wife’s past?”

“More than you could possibly know.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, puzzled by his reply.

“I’m not sure I should say anything, but in the spirit of full disclosure, I think I should. If I were in your shoes, I would want to know.”

“Know what? What the hell are you talking about? I’m confused,” I said, knowing it was probably something I’d be better off not knowing.

“Several years ago,” Lenny began, “I hosted parties on my yacht for important clients and special functions. I had a service to provide the… uh… entertainment, if you get my drift?”

“You mean you used an escort service?”

“Not exactly. It was a production company that made skin flicks. My friends loved watching the movies while being with the actual actresses.”

It suddenly became obvious where this was leading. I remembered the conversation I’d had with Andre about how much he made having Marika perform on a billionaire’s yacht.

I could hardly speak when I said in a raspy voice, “She told me she made some movies on location.”

“Yeah… right… movies.” Lenny pursed his lips. “Jack, I’m not going to tell you anything but the truth. They only brought cameras aboard under the pretense of shooting a movie, so it appeared legal. Trust me, those girls earned every dime they got paid. The favorite of everyone including me was by far Misty. She was incredible and seemed to enjoy her work—a lot.”

“So, you’re telling me my wife was not only a porn actress but also a whore?”

He paused, averting his gaze before saying, “Don’t be an idiot. You know there is no real difference. Both are sex for money.”

“Let me ask, did you fuck my wife, too?”

My question seemed to catch him off guard, as he replied, “Jack, what difference does it make? That was years ago, long before you met her. From what I see in my report, she has moved on, and you need to do the same. She’s overcome a lot to become a very accomplished woman. Be proud of her.”

“Yeah, I’m trying to do that. It’s not that easy. It seems I’m being surprised around every corner.”

“I will do what I can to help you solve your situation. Don’t be too hard on your wife. She was young, naïve, and desperate. She fell into a trap that thousands of girls do, unfortunately. Now that you have full disclosure, sign the paperwork and we’ll get to work Monday. Want to go have a drink?”

We started walking toward the club bar when I turned and said, “I think I’ll pass on the drink and head home. I’ll see you at the office. Marika and I have a lot to discuss. Plus, we still have to deal with that pornographer Andre. He’s trying to blackmail us into having my wife return to the porn scene. I tried to buy up her contract from him and get him to shut down that website, but he said no deal.”

“Blackmail?” Lenny screwed up his face. “By that fucking weasel Andre? Why didn’t you tell me that earlier?” He suddenly altered his voice to imitate Marlon Brando and said, “I’ll have a couple of my associates make him an offer he can’t refuse.”

“Not funny. I appreciate the offer, but I can’t condone violence. I have a couple of ideas that might solve this mess, which benefits everyone, including you. I’ll share them with you after I work out the details.”

“Bring your lovely wife with you. I can’t move forward unless we straighten this out.”

“I’ll talk to her.”

“You are not understanding me.” Lenny darkened his gaze. “I wasn’t asking, I was telling. Bring her.”

“Yes, sir,” I answered, snapping him a mock salute.

Lenny walked with me to my car. His Ferrari was parked next to my Mercedes. As I put my bag in the trunk, I said, “By the way, if you loosen your grip on your club slightly, you’ll solve that awful slice. See ya Monday, Boss—and thanks for the game.”

*****

When I walked in the front door, I called out that I was home, but there was no reply. It seemed the house was empty. There was a note on the table under Marika’s coffee cup; She and Timmy had gone to the movies to watch Frozen II. They must have left a short time ago, as her cup was still warm. I contemplated going late to join them but decided to use those two hours to sort through things.

How many times does a guy find out his boss fucked his wife?

As far as I knew, Marika hadn’t lied to me, but she had very conveniently left out many details. I couldn’t blame her. I probably would have done the same in her place.

As I flipped through the details of Lenny’s contract, it occurred to me that most of it was a series of non-disclosure agreements; the rest seemed to be a standard employment contract, listing things like compensation, vacation, retirement and severance package. All in all, it seemed like an extremely generous offer, maybe too generous.

*****

When my wife and son returned home, Timmy wanted to tell me all about the movie in a way that only a five-year-old could. Marika signaled to me she was going to the pool. Timmy and I went to change into our suits. However, I stopped by the office to check my emails.

When I finally approached the pool, I found my wife tanning on a lounge chair in her skimpy bikini, and Timmy was swimming in his water wings. I grabbed two beers at our poolside bar and offered Marika one. She didn’t even bother to look at me before saying, “So, how’d it go?”

“It went well. The course was almost immaculate. How was the movie?”

She took the beer and downed a large gulp, burping in satisfaction. “Thanks.” She giggled. “Sorry, you know I do that. The movie was… long. When I asked you about how things went, I wasn’t referring to the golf course. I was asking if you make a decision about the employment contract?” She turned over, squinting at me while blocking the sun with her hand.

I set my beer on the table, took the sun lotion and started rubbing it on her feet and legs.

Timmy suddenly called out, “Daddy, look at me!” He kicked his legs rapidly, splashing the water.

“Use your arms too and see if you can go all the way across,” I said, watching him flail away.

My God, how I loved that kid.

“Well?” Marika asked impatiently. Her top was loosely hanging from her shoulders, not quite covering her milky breasts.

“I’m pretty sure I’ll take the offer,” I replied. “But there are some things we need to discuss first.”

“Like what?”

“Like your history with my boss Lenny, for one…”

She sat up, put on her sunglasses and said, “I don’t know any Lenny.”

“Let me help refresh your memory, darling. Does a yacht called Party Harty ring a bell?”

Marika frowned. “I already told you about that part of my life. That’s all ancient history—and I still don’t know any Lenny.”

I took out my iPhone and searched through my pictures, looking for the one I had my caddy take of our foursome today. When I found it, I held it up for her to see.

“He’s second from left.”

She lowered her sunglasses, took the phone from me, and cupped her hand around it to shield the screen from the noonday sun. After a careful examination she said, “Nope, I don’t recognize him.”

“That’s strange. He seems to remember you vividly. In fact, it was his yacht you were on.”

Marika appeared to be lost in thought before saying, “There could be a good reason for that. All the guests on the boat wore masks. They were all paranoid about being photographed.”

“That makes sense. It seems you left a lasting impression.”

“You say he remembers me after all these years? What did he say?”

“He said you were very beautiful and extremely… enthusiastic.”

“Oh yeah? What else?”

“Well, he’s offered to help solve our Andre problem, but you need to go with me to work Monday. Can you do that?”

“Of course,” said Marika. “I’ll do whatever it takes. Why don’t you come to join us and relax?”

“After seeing you in that bikini, I want something else that will help me relax.” I winked.  

When we put Timmy down for his nap, it was finally adult playtime. I had Marika stripped before we even entered the bedroom. I felt an urgency to take her. I knew there was no way to make love with her without thinking of the many that were with her before me, apparently now including my boss. I was puzzled why those thoughts invigorated me so much.

I bet my life on the fact that despite her past, her love for me was exclusive. However, my vision of her in those videos created a fire within me that only she could extinguish. I loved how her body withered beneath me as I drove into her depths. She seemed insatiable. I knew for most wives that were married for as long as us, sex was done out of duty, but I genuinely believed Marika needed me as much as I needed her. I wasn’t sure how much was love or just plane fucking anymore. Did it really matter?

I could feel her engorged nipples rub against my chest as our lovemaking shifted to a new level. She locked her legs around me, squeezing me tight. Then, she moaned so loudly I thought she’d wake Timmy. Her body stiffened as she grunted unrecognizably. All this time, I kept thinking about Lenny’s cock buried in my wife. I became insane with passion as I plunged deeper, finally releasing a flood of passion. I immediately felt guilty as I thought, what the fuck is wrong with me?

*****

Monday morning, I awoke almost incoherent after a sleepless night. When I finally dragged myself out of bed, I staggered around like a zombie. I even tried Marika’s trick of submerging my face in ice-cold water to improve my alertness, but all I really accomplish was giving myself a severe case of brain-freeze. To rub salt in the wound, Marika was up and flittering around like a butterfly. All my brain was focused on was coffee, as I stumbled into the kitchen. Timmy was gobbling his waffle like a vulture. I thought about correcting him, but I was still too numb to care.

“Here,” Marika said, pushing a steaming mug at me. “How long do you anticipate this meeting to last? I’ve got a full agenda today.”

I gulped some coffee and answered, “Actually, you might want to clear your calendar for the rest of the day.”

“I can’t promise the whole day, but I’ll tell Janice to reschedule my morning appointments.”

I still couldn’t reason why Lenny wanted her at the meeting, but I was quickly realizing he seemed to have a plan for every contingency. From the moment that Marika filed for divorce, my life had been in free fall. Not only had I discovered a whole hidden complex world about my wife, but I also discovered a lot about myself.