The Payback

Abe Winslow wanted to tear his clothes off and run naked through the neighborhood. Once a month his frustration built up and he’d fantasize about doing something outlandish to ease his tension. Maybe if the cops arrested him he wouldn’t have to face his creditors.

He pushed his fingers through his thinning brown hair and refocused on the unpaid bills scattered across the small rosewood kitchen table. Mastercard. Visa. Discover. There was no way his paycheck from Haley’s Hardware would even cover the minimum payments. How had things gotten so out of control?

The phone rang, jangling his already shattered nerves. Becky, his wife, shuffled across the living room rug to answer. They’d been married for eight years. He’d been attracted to her curly blonde hair, ample bosom and muscular legs. Her intelligence had been a bonus. They’d been arguing lately and it was usually over their mounting bills. Becky’s job at the furniture store did little to ease their shortage of cash. They’d talked of having a child, but the biological clock was ticking. How would he be able to pay those bills? Abe was going to have to do something drastic.

Becky cradled the phone against her ear. She remained silent for so long he was convinced something was wrong.

"Why should I believe this story?" she said.

She listened for a few more minutes, her face reddening. Then she slammed down the receiver so hard the plastic cracked.

Abe focused on his wife. "What’s wrong?"

Becky quick-stepped toward him. "That was Candy Kramer."

"Who?"

"Candy Kramer. The woman you’ve been having an affair with for the past year."

Abe’s heart double-thumped. What the hell was going on? "That’s ridiculous, Beck. I don’t even know the woman. It’s some kind of sick joke."

Becky shook her head as if trying to clear it. "She certainly knew you. Told me where you worked, that you graduated from South Boston High, that your favorite actor was Humphrey Bogart and how we argued about money. How would she know that stuff, Abe?"

"I don’t know, but the woman’s lying."

Becky’s eyes misted over. "You bastard. Don’t try and make a fool of me. I’m not stupid. Is that why we’re always short of money and you insist on handling the bills? Are you trying to cover up presents that you buy for your honey?"

He tried to take her in his arms, explain that everything she thought wasn’t true, but she pulled away.

She jabbed a finger at him. "We talked about this before our marriage. Neither one of us would tolerate cheating. And to think I never doubted you for a minute."

Abe felt light-headed, like a diabetic on a sugar low. "Call her back. Ask her some other questions. You’ll see she’s making this up."

"She told me enough. I’ve noticed the change in you, Abe, but I just figured you were worried about the bills. I can’t believe I missed what was really going on in our marriage."

"I’ll get to the bottom of this." He grabbed the phone and punched *69. The number had a block on it and couldn’t be traced.

Becky slumped on the couch. He touched her shoulder. She knocked it off.

"I want you out of this house."

"You can’t throw me out because of one mysterious phone call."

She looked up. "It’s more than that. We fight about everything. Hell, we even argue about what shows to watch on television."

"Okay. Things have been rough lately, but money’s the cause of it, honey. You know that."

"It’s always money with you. Is that why you cheated on me?"

"I didn’t cheat."

"Pack your stuff. I want you out, now. I’ve got a lot of thinking to do. I’ll call you when I’ve sorted things out."

***

It took a few days for Abe to rent and settle into a one-bedroom apartment. He’d called Becky, but each time she’d hung up. He didn’t know whether to cry or break something. The disintegration of his marriage made it difficult to concentrate. He made mistakes at work, but one thing he was sure of. He’d track down Candy Kramer and find out why she lied.

He didn’t realize how easy it would be.

A People Search on the Internet listed four Candy Kramers within a fifteen-mile radius of Boston. He got lucky on the second call.

"Is this the Candy Kramer who knows Abe Winslow?"

After a brief silence she said, "Who is this?"

"Abe Winslow."

"Bullshit. This isn’t Abe."

It took a few minutes to convince her, made easier because Candy had traced him the same way he found her.

"Could you describe the man?" Abe said.

When she did it all clicked into place.

Frank Sparkes had been Abe’s best friend since high school. He was a womanizer who surprised everyone by marrying at twenty-two and fathering two kids, now twelve and nine. Apparently his womanizing days weren’t behind him.

Abe confronted Sparkes at Chadwick and Jones where he worked as an accountant.

"You bastard," Abe said.

Sparkes looked up from his desk, then glanced nervously at his co-workers. "Abe? What’s got you so upset?"

"Candy Kramer."

"Who?"

Abe clenched his fist. "Don’t bullshit me, Frank. I talked to her. She described you right down to that trick knee you got playing football."

Frank motioned toward the back door and led Abe to the rear of the building. He patted his perfectly cut hair, then tugged on the jacket of his suit that probably cost more than Abe made in a week. "I’m not going to deny it. How’d you find out?"

"She called the house and talked to Becky. Becky threw me out."

"Oh, Jeez. I’m sorry. I didn’t want this to happen. I never thought these women would track me down especially if everything I told them was about you and not me. I was just having some fun."

Abe’s eyebrows shot up a notch. "Women? How many others have you screwed and used my name? Hell, used my life."

"A few."

"How many?"

"Okay. Maybe a dozen, but it’s over. I’ll stop. Please don’t tell Judy. Her and the kids are the most important things in my life."

"Sure. Did you think of them while you were screwing these other women?"

"Look, Abe. I can’t help the way I am. I know I can’t make it up to you, but I’ll do whatever it takes. Just don’t tell Judy."

Abe poked a finger in his chest. "I want you to call Becky and confess."

Frank’s face whitened. "She’d tell Judy."

Abe shrugged. "You’re the charmer, lover boy. Convince her not to."

Frank didn’t answer.

"You’ve got no choice. Either you call Becky or I talk to Judy."

***

The sound of piano music filtered through the lounge. Abe Winslow sipped his single-malt scotch. He was back with Becky and although they still had problems, things were working out. And were about to get a lot better.

Frank Sparkes slid into the barstool next to him. They hadn’t seen each other in a year, since the day of their confrontation.

"I was surprised to get your call, Abe. What’s this about?"

"How are things, Jim?"

"Better. Judy let me move back in. The relationship is strained, but we agreed to stay together for the sake of the kids. One more screw up and I’m out for good." He sighed. "In the past few months I’ve realized how important my family is. I won’t make another mistake. But, somehow I don’t think you invited me here to talk about my life."

Abe took a sip of scotch. "You know a woman named Rita LeDuc?"

Sparkes slowly nodded.

"I thought you broke off all of your relationships a year ago. Your family was too important to screw around on, you said. Remember?"

He took a slow, deep breath. "It took longer with Rita. She was a young, rich widow who liked to buy me presents. We parted on the best of terms. I haven’t seen her in nine months. Look, Abe. I told Judy I haven’t cheated on her in a year. This can’t come out."

Abe smiled. "Nine months, huh? That’s kinda funny. Well, her lawyer just contacted me."

Sparkes’ eyes widened. "Oh, no. She’s not going to blame anything on me. I didn’t knock her up. You gotta help me out. This would push Judy over the edge. Think of what it would do to my kids."

"Don’t worry, Frank. I’ll never say a word."

"If you do that for me, buddy, I’ll do anything you ask."

Abe took his last sip of scotch and motioned for another. "No need to thank me. Rita’s not pregnant. Matter of fact she died in a car crash last month. That rich, young widow left me two million dollars."