As I approached the door, I could hear the faint sound of blues music filtering out from the jukebox along with the garbled sound of mingled voices. Pushing the door open, I stepped inside and instantly the voices stopped. I stood in the doorway for a second, feeling the burn of dozens of eyes on me.

"Well, if it isn't Mr. Fancy Breeches Matthew Banks," laughed the barmaid.

I was surprised to see the same old girl who'd served my beers years ago. Time hadn't been kind to her, and her face had developed thick lines and a leathery texture. She smiled, revealing yellowing teeth inside lips painted firetruck red. Gradually, people turned back around and resumed their drinking, and I approached the bar.

"What'll it be?" the barmaid asked. "Couple of beers."

She grabbed two Budweisers out of the fridge and slid them down toward me.

"Never thought I'd see you in here again," she said with a flirtatious smile and a lick of her lips. "I see your commercials on TV all the time, you know. I'd join one of your gyms myself if I won the lottery."

"Yeah, you keep dreamin', Nancy," Bob laughed as he took the beers and walked over to a nearby table. Behind it, a baseball game was playing, but no one was watching.

I followed him and sat across from him, reaching for my beer and taking a sip.

"Think she's got the hots for you," Bob commented as he sipped his beer.

"I think I'll pass."

"What? You don't like the old hag look?" he scoffed sarcastically. "You're such a snob these days."

"Ha!"

"Anyway, she'd be a damn lot nicer to be with than Olivia, even if she ain't perfect in the looks department."

"That's true." I took a sip of my beer despite the fact it was slightly warm.

"What's that old witch up to these days?" Bob asked. "What the fuck do I care what she's up to? The bitch

cheated on me. I don't give a flying fuck what she gets up to anymore."

"Fucking idiot," Bob sighed as he looked up at the TV. "I can't believe she did that. I mean, did she not realize how good she had it? And with that little runt Simon?"

"Whatever. I don't wanna think about her anymore. We're done. And as soon as she signs the divorce papers, I won't have to think about her ever again."

"Wait, she hasn't signed the divorce papers yet?"

"Nah. She's giving me a real run around. Just playing games."

"She's pure drama. Don't know what you ever saw in her.

I mean, apart from the obvious."

As I thought about it, I tried to remember what I'd found attractive in her in the first place. If I was being honest, I'd have to admit her looks had drawn me in. She was beautiful, all right, but what really hooked me in was her kindness and her compassion toward people. Of course, the second we were married, she dropped the façade, and with each passing year she grew colder and more hardened.

It took a long time for me to realize who the real Olivia was, and when I did it was too late. She had her paws in my bank account and her claws deep into my heart. But I really thought things could work out between us. I longed to have children, and I thought she wanted them too. And I always thought if I just work harder, she'll be happy and everything will be okay between us.

But nothing would ever make Olivia happy, not even my vows to love her for all eternity or my never-ending devotion, support, and money. I'd never forget the day I knew it had ended for good.

I'd been on a business trip to LA when I decided to return home a day early to surprise her with VIP tickets to a concert she wanted to go to. When I pulled up outside the house, I noticed a Mercedes in the driveway that wasn't mine. But thinking it was just a friend's car, I'd happily entered the house expecting to see Olivia where she always was, the sunbed. Or as I called it, the second love of her life.

But as I walked down the hall, I was aware of her giggling coming from upstairs. Slowly, I'd made my way up, listening to her voice as it echoed down the spiral staircase. Call me naive, but it still didn't click that anything was wrong, so I'd lingered outside the door for a second listening.

"Ooooh, Simon," I'd heard her say sensually.

Then a second later I heard a long sigh and a groan. "Olivia!" I'd raged and burst through the door. I saw the

one thing that would cling to my mind like a virus. The one image I would never forget as long as I lived. Lying in the center of our bed was a tiny guy wearing nothing but his socks, his brown suit crumpled on the floor beside an opened condom wrapper. Straddling his hips was Olivia, buck naked and staring at me like a rabbit caught in headlights.

"Matthew!" she'd screamed, scrambling off him. "It's not what it looks like!"

"So you're not fucking him in our bed?" I'd instantly seen red and reached for the little prick on the bed. "Who the fuck are you?"

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But he was too shocked to answer. The little bastard was half my size, above and below the belt. He cowered beneath me, ready to pass out. Grabbing him by the ankles, I yanked him off the bed and punched him hard in the face. He yelped like a puppy as he hit the floor. Then he fumbled for his clothes and ran full speed out the door Scooby Doo style. I was ready to go after him, but Olivia stood in my way.

"What did you do?" she cried. "You hurt him!" "What did I do? What the fuck were you doing?"

Her eyes filled with tears and her bottom lip started to quiver. "I'm so sorry. I never thought you'd replace out. Can we just forget about it and start again?"

"You've got two hours," I replied. She stared at me, puzzled. "Two hours to pack your shit and get the fuck out of here."

At first, she thought I was joking. She was actually so stupid she believed I would just forgive her and everything would return to normal.

"You don't mean that, do you?"

I glared at her. "Two hours," I repeated. "You're fucking dead to me."

After that, I'd never laid eyes on her again, and the only contact we'd had was through our lawyers. That suited me fine.

"Forget about her," Bob said, returning me to the present. "I pretty much already have. Anyway, I'm sick of talking about her."

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