Quest and Tillie

Chapter 1: Two Words

Well, now there were two women in the world who knew what my husband sounded like when he was coming.

Me. 

And Mary-Lou Dawn, the blonde he'd just pulled his dick out of, ripping off the condom as he groaned and pumped himself a few times, shooting his load all over his hand and her ass.

Unable to completely comprehend what I had just witnessed, I looked down at the two extra large iced teas I held in my hands and launched one at my husband, hitting him square on the side of the face. That was the first he realized anyone was there besides him and the slut who'd been after my husband since high school. His head snapped to the side, and he instinctively turned his head toward the source of the assault. When he saw it was me, his eyes registered the holy shitfuckdamn kind of horror as his whole body turned toward me.

Big mistake. I threw the other large drink, hitting him right in the balls.

I need to mention that, as the star pitcher of our high school softball team, I took my team to the state finals for the first time in its history when I was a senior seven years ago. My arm and my aim were that good. Apparently, I still had my mad skills although I never, ever imagined a scenario where I'd be using them on my husband as I just had.

As my husband gasped for breath, clutching his balls, Mary-Lou grinned slyly at me, not in the least bit embarrassed at all, finally triumphant after all these years.

I looked at my husband and told him calmly, "We're done."

Two words to end nine years together.

Two words to end a marriage of three years.

Two words to end a love that had been called epic, destined, forever.

Two words to end all of our dreams, two of which I had been coming to share with him. 

Then on the heels of those two, final words, I left his autobody shop quick as I could. That is to say, running my ass off. I could feel the panic starting to hit me, could feel the shaking begin, little tremors starting from deep inside me that would work their way out to become major earthquakes that would soon wrack my entire body.

Hold on hold on hold on.

Even as I chanted my mantra to myself, I could hear my husband's deep, devastated voice bellowing my name, over and over, begging me to stop, but he had to waste precious seconds pulling up his jeans from around his ankles before he could chase after me. Yanking open the driver's door to my SUV, I leapt up into it, started the engine and threw it into reverse in almost the same motion. I floored it as I saw my husband racing toward his truck, Mary-Lou Dawn following behind him.

Think think think.

"Call mama," I directed my car, declining my husband's incoming call. He hadn't wasted any time. Unless you counted the last nine years of our lives.

She answered on the first ring, and I barked at her in short, staccato sentences. "Mama, open the garage door. I'm coming in hot. Be ready to close it right away. Do not let Quest in. Do not answer his calls. Do not tell him I'm coming there."

Then, unable to prevent it, a little sob escaped my throat and she heard it.

And because she was my mama, she knew something very, very bad had gone down.

She just didn't know exactly how bad, but she could tell from my voice it was bad enough to trigger a panic attack.

"You stay on the line with me, Tillie." She  didn't want me in meltdown mode while I was clearly driving.