I pulled into the garage next to Cassie’s car at about two in the afternoon. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that Wil’s drunken tirade had planted a seed of paranoia in me. Not that she’d been giving me any less attention, but Cassie had also been bending over backward to make sure Jay was happy and well cared for since his arrival. He was my friend, for sure, but I couldn’t help but feel jealous and a little insecure about the idea that they were spending so much time together every day while I was at work. I decided it wouldn’t be a bad idea to make an unannounced trip home in the middle of the day, if only to allay my paranoia. Best-case scenario, I would discover that nothing was going on, and then I would take my wife out shopping, then for a romantic dinner and some alone time in a local hotel.
I placed my hand on the hood of Cassie’s car to check the temperature. It was cold, which meant she hadn’t gone anywhere in the last couple of hours. That concerned me, since she was supposed to be at school.
I entered the kitchen through the garage, calling out her name. There was no response. My mind immediately went to a dark place, filled with thoughts no man should ever have to have about a friend.
Stop it. Stop it, Allen, I kept telling myself, trying to banish the image of Cassie and Jay together from my mind. Jay would never do that to you, and neither would Cassie. You have to trust them.
Of course I knew that was the right thing to do, but I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that Jay was going to try to screw my wife—just like he’d done with my fiancée back in the day. I mean, they do say that history repeats itself.
“Cassie! Jay!” I called out both names this time.
Not getting a response, I headed into the kitchen, which I was shocked to find in total disarray. There was a half-eaten bag of chips, an open box of Entenmann’s doughnuts, an empty milk carton, and a dirty cookie sheet covered in the crumbs of what must have been chocolate chip cookies. The oven door was still wide open, filling the room with heat because it had not been shut off after someone baked the cookies. I closed the door and shut off the oven, then turned around to clean up some of the mess. That was when I heard a rhythmic thumping noise above me. I looked up to the ceiling just as the moaning sounds started. There was no mistaking the sound of sex.
Fuck friendship, I went into straight protective mode, heading for the foyer closet to get the hammer from the small set of tools I kept in there. Then I hustled up the steps two at a time.
At the top of the stairs, I stopped to listen, halfway hoping that I had just hallucinated the sexual noises. Unfortunately, as I stepped closer, the moaning and groaning became even more obvious. I’d be a fool to deny what was going on under my roof. I could try to think good thoughts all I wanted, but the fact remained that my best friend and my wife were getting it on.
“Damn, girl, that shit feels good,” I heard Jay growl.
For a second I thought I might puke right there as I stood outside the bedroom door. I had so many emotions rolling around inside of me at the moment: rage, jealousy, pain, disappointment, and confusion. They took over my being until I became someone I couldn’t even recognize. Part of me wanted to curl up in a corner and die, but first I wanted to take someone out with me. Oh, yes, there might just be a murder-suicide up in this bitch!
Jay was yelling, “Whose pussy is this? I said, whose pussy is this?” The headboard was crashing against the wall like he was trying to drill right through my wife.
I had heard more than enough. I took four steps back, then with all my weight, slammed into the door, almost tearing it off of its hinges.
“It’s my pussy!” I yelled out as I stood in the doorway with my chest heaving up and down.
“What the fuck?” Jay said.
I barely saw Cassie, who went scrambling under the covers. Who could blame her? Who wanted to be caught on all fours with her husband’s best friend’s dick inside of her?
“Al, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Jay shouted.
“What do you think is wrong with me? You’re fucking my wife, and I’m gon’ kill you and her!” I raised the hammer over my head, about to rush at him, until the woman—who I now clearly saw was not my wife—popped her head out from under the sheets. She screamed, and I froze in my tracks.
“You’re not Cassie,” I mumbled, feeling disoriented.
“No, that’s not Cassie,” Jay yelled at me as I backed out of the room. “That’s my friend Tina. Or at least she used to be my friend.” And with that, he got up and slammed the broken door in my face.