Page 85 of Marriage and the Midlife Crisis

“It’s freezing out here, dude, and I think you’re gonna want to hear what I have to say. Your marriage might depend on it.”

I took in a deep, shuddery breath as Ryan asked what the fuck he was talking about.

“I’m not gonna stand out here freezing my balls off. Let me in and we’ll talk.”

I heard the shuffling of feet, and then Mitch stomping the snow of his boots – all over the entryway floor, the shithead.

“You’re in, now talk.”

“Wow, right to the point, huh? Fine, asshole. I need thirty thousand dollars, and you’re gonna give it to me or I’ll tell that fucking wife of yours exactly what happened in Vegas. You kept whining about how you betrayed her by going to a strip club, and that she would be so upset that you broke your promise. Well, how upset do you think she’ll be when I tell her how you brought that stripper back to our hotel suite and spent the night fucking her brains out?”

My heart skipped a beat, then another, and I gripped the doorframe hard, my fingertips digging into the wood as my knees threatened to give out. “No”, I whispered brokenly. “He wouldn’t. He couldn’t have…”

Ryan didn’t say anything for a few seconds, and I tried to brace myself for his response.

“You lying motherfucker,” Ryan roared. “I never touched her.”

Relief flooded through me, along with a wave of shame for doubting him even for a second. I crept down the stairs, not wanting Mitch to realize I was here just yet. I wanted to see the look on the bastard’s face when he realized his sleazy little scheme wouldn’t work.

“Oh, that’s not what Tangie will say. I talked to her yesterday, and with the right…incentive, she’ll give Melanie all the nasty details, especially how you titty-fucked her before you railed her ass.”

I rounded the corner into the living room just in time to see Ryan pull back his fist. I screamed his name and both men whirled around to face me as I ran over and grabbed his arm.

I scarcely registered the utter shock on Mitch’s face when he saw me, as I begged Ryan not to hit him.

“He deserves it,” Ryan swore hoarsely, his eyes wild and filled with panic. “You don’t know what –“

“Yes, I do,” I interrupted, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. “I heard every last, disgusting word that Mitch the Bitch had to say.”

“Fuck,” Mitch muttered, then glared at me. “The strip club was his idea,” he sneered. “He told me he wanted to see some real women, not the flat-chested bitch he was stuck with.”

Ryan lunged for him, and I grabbed his arm again, clinging to him with all my might as I tried not to let Mitch’s hateful insults get to me. Mitch wisely took a step back, then laughed, the sound filled with bitterness.

“Where do you think we went every time he told you he was going to the gym? He has a thing for Scarlett, one of the strippers at Fallen Angels. He’s spent a fortune on lap dances in one of their private rooms. He’s always smiling and buckling his belt when he comes back out, too. She’s got nice big tits, too, just like he likes ‘em.”

Ryan made a sound low in his throat, almost growling, like a rabid animal.

“Motherfucker,” he raged. “Get the hell out and don’t let me ever see your lying ass again.”

“Oh, don’t you want Melanie to know the truth? You were so worried about it at the hotel, remember? I have to tell her. I can’t look her in the eye and lie to her,” he taunted. “Jesus, you’re pathetic. She’s got you by the balls, man.

“If you’re going to try to blackmail someone, you should really learn to keep your stories straight, Mitch. I mean, you just tried to convince me that Ryan’s fucking strippers every night of the week, then you admit that he was upset at the hotel and wanted to confess. Until you convinced him otherwise, anyway. You have quite the talent for manipulation. It’s too bad that’s the only talent you have.” I stepped closer to him so that I could reach around and open the front door. “Now, I believe my husband told you to get out. You’re not welcome in our home.”

Ryan’s eyes were wide as he stared at me, then a smile spread across his face. Before he could say anything, Mitch the fucking Bitch opened his mouth again, ready to spew even more venom.

“You goddamned cunt,” he seethed, “if you hadn’t yanked the purse strings closed last year, I wouldn’t –“

Before he could say another word, I took a step back so I could face him directly, then lifted my knee and kicked out and upward, catching him right in the balls with my shin, just like I’d learned in the self-defense classes that Jen and I had taken several years ago after a series of muggings near our office building.

I snapped my leg back and centered myself so I wouldn’t be off-balance, then watched as Mitch curled in on himself and collapsed to the floor, landing in a fetal position. His face was contorted with pain, and he opened his mouth – presumably to groan – but no sound came out. I was pretty damned proud of myself when I realized it was because he couldn’t even take in a breath.

“Melanie!” Ryan shouted, pulling me away from Mitch’s prone body to inspect me from head to toe. “Are you OK? Did you hurt yourself?”

I grinned up at him. “No. I remembered to use my shin, not my foot.” Our instructor had drilled it into our heads that there were too many small bones in the foot that could be broken, resulting in you not being able to run to safety if the blow didn’t take your attacker down.” “Use your shins, ladies, and kick out and up as hard as you can, like you’re trying to make his balls shoot out the top of his skull.” I’d remembered that, and I’d done it, and it had been glorious.

He pulled me into his arms, curving his body around mine protectively. Without even looking at Mitch, he told him he had five seconds to get out.

“I don’t care if you have to crawl, you fucking bastard.”