A few hours later I was sitting in a pub near Dickie's work. I had an empty beer and a basket of fries in front of me. Some people turn to alcohol, I turn to carbohydrates. Aunt Tootsie's clock was on the table in front of me. I stared at it.

My brain wasn't getting much more beyond motherfucker. He'd cheated on me! And with Joyce! I hated Joyce. Now I hated her even more.

I heard footsteps approach me and someone slid into the booth next to me. I smelt the aftershave before I bothered to look. Ranger.

I rolled my eyes.

"Oh now you show up. Where were you earlier when I needed my super hero secret agent friend?"

"Sorry."

"With your head up your ass, that's where you were," I told him. There was a hint of a smile on his face.

"Sorry."

"What was Lester doing there?" I asked.

"Survelliance."

"Of what?" I asked.

"Do you need a lift?" he said, changing the topic. I sighed.

"Yeah I guess so. I left my car at work. And my phone and purse."

"Left in a hurry?"

"I wanted to catch Dickie off guard. It occurred to me that there could be trackers."

This time there was a real grin instead of the ghost of a smile. "I'm proud of you, babe."

"I wish I could say the same. I'm an idiot, and now everyone knows it."

"Your husband is a cheater, babe. That doesn't make you an idiot."

"If I'm not, then why didn't I see it happening? What else don't I know about?" I asked. Ranger shifted slightly. "What? What do you know?" I asked him.

"We can talk later, babe. Where do you want me to drive you?"

"To the office," I said, picking up the clock. Ranger put some money down to cover my fries and beer, and gestured for me to go ahead of him. His Porsche was waiting out the front. Of course Ranger got the perfect park. I climbed into the car, and looked at the clock.

"Nice clock," Ranger said.

"We got this clock for our wedding day. My Aunt Tootsie gave it to us. Dickie had it on his desk. I bet he didn't even remember that it was a wedding present," I said to Ranger. Ranger reached across and squeezed my hand. I was rambling, but couldn't stop.

"He doesn't deserve this clock, anymore. He doesn't deserve anything from me. And it wasn't even just Joyce, Ranger. There were more. I don't know how many more. I don't know what to do."

"I heard you got a few good hits in," Ranger said.

"Yeah. I saw red and before I knew it, I was punching Dickie."

"Stay angry, babe. Anger keeps you strong."

We pulled up outside my office. I pulled my keys from my pocket and got out of the car.

"Thanks for the ride," I told Ranger. I took a deep breath and tried to pull myself together.

"You forgot your clock."

"You can have it."

I got my purse, phone and got into my car and drove home. Dickie wasn't there, and I was relieved to not see him. I wasn't sure that I ever wanted to see Dickie ever again.

My phone rang. It was my mother. I sighed.

"Stephanie! This is your mother!"

"Hi mom."

"Oh Stephanie. The phone has been ringing off the hook. Did you really hit Dickie in the face?"

"Yes."

"Stephanie, why? Why me?"

"Why you? Because he was cheating on me with Joyce. I didn't plan it out."

"But to do it so publicly… you can't just move on from this, Stephanie. Why don't you ever think?"

"I don't want to move on from this! Dickie and I are over!"

"You stay that now, Stephanie, but you might not feel that way tomorrow. Dickie will come home and apologise, and you might want to reconsider."

"I'm not going to reconsider, mother."

"But Stephanie-"

"Mother, are you even on my side? You're not sounding like it."

"Of course I'm on your side, Stephanie. I just want what's best for you."

"What's best for me is to not have a husband who is cheating on me."

"But that's been the case for years," my mother said.

"But – what? You knew?" I yelled. Then I hung up the phone.

It rang almost immediately. Valerie this time.

"Val."

"Oh Stephie. Are you okay?"

"I'm trying to be," I told her.

"I'm so sorry. This is just like Steve. I should have known. I mean, there were signs, but I thought Dickie was different. Are you going to take him back?"

"I don't know, Val. I don't know what I'm doing. I think I need some time," I told her. She said that she would call again the next day, and we hung up.

I was stunned. My mother had known. Valerie had suspected. They'd both assumed that I'd known. They assumed that I'd just put up with his cheating ass?

I took a bottle of Dickie's finest Scotch and went out to the firepit in the backyard. We'd never used it. I'd gotten it installed one year, thinking that Dickie and I would roast marshmallows and make s'mores, but we'd never gotten around to it. I decided to christen it with Dickie's favourite suit and his expensive Scotch. I put the suit in, added the Scotch, and set it on fire.

It wasn't the best fire I'd ever made, and it kind of smelled weird, but I sat beside it anyway and plotted.

After I'd set the second suit on fire, I remembered that there was a camera in the backyard. It was supposed to be watching the backdoor, but I looked up to find that it had changed direction and was pointing towards the fire pit. I waved. I wondered who it was on duty that night. Hal? Lester? Bobby? Vince?

Who exactly was it who was watching me mourn my marriage and burn expensive tailored suits?

My question was answered twenty minutes later when the slide gate opened and a slim figure slid through.

"Estephania."

"Hola Hector."

"Hola."

I looked at the camera. It was pointed back at the door. Not an official visit, then. Hector held out something to me. It was a takeaway cup of hot chocolate. I sighed and tears sprung to my eyes. It wasn't just the stinging from my smoke coming off the burning clothing, it was Hector's small act of kindness.

"Oh Hector," I said. "Why are men such bastards?" He shrugged. He gestured for me to go inside the house and set the alarm. I looked at my phone. It was hours later than I thought and I had thirty missed calls. Ten of them were from Dickie. I sighed and decided to go to bed. I took my pyjamas and pulled out the sofa bed in my office. Tomorrow I would figure out what I was going to do with my life.