The Nice Guy

By Dennis Renner

Austin Ballantine was the epitome of bad luck – bullied in school, divorced, job after unsuccessful job. He hated his life.
And now his second wife has left him and two near death experiences left him shaken and afraid.
Once again he wanted to withdraw from everything but the consistent support of his psychiatrist reinforced the need to keep trying and not give. The medications helped, soothing his anxiety but there was no medicine, that could alter the lifelong persistence of bad luck and misfortune.

Then along came Annie. Young, beautiful......and rich.
She was the answer to everything he never thought possible.
She approached him.
He resisted, she persisted. He knew he was not good enough for her.
But he succumbed to her perseverance and let his guard down.
Was it a mistake or the answer to all he had been searching for?
Or once again, will it all come crashing down?

Austin Ballantine was the epitome of bad luck.
He hated his life.
Then along came Annie.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dennis Renner
• Release date: May 14, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463240311

Dennis Renner

Dennis E. Renner is an author currently residing in Fenton, Missouri, a suburb of St. Louis with his Wife Cassandra. Dennis is also a performing musician and an advocate of all in nature. His hobbies include hiking in Colorado, Missouri and anywhere else he can find an interesting trail. He is a musician of over 50 years and performs regularly in the St. Louis area. He is unique storyteller, most of which are based on personal experiences.

Book preview

The room seemed to be spinning as Austin Ballantine clung to both arms of the chair, afraid he would be flung into the air by some mysterious unseen force. His anxiety intensified. Feverishly scratching at his left forearm, he struggled to collect himself. It was going to be bad, the feeling resting on his shoulders pressing him deeper into the chair. How could it be anything but bad? Glancing at the clock, it revealed it had been fifteen minutes since he was notified through the intercom to come to Mr. Torel’s office. Nervously he watched the closed door as he continued to nervously scratch his left forearm. The door opened with a nearly inaudible squeak. Bob Skyler emerged, a look of shock on his face. I knew it, Austin thought, I just knew it. Then he heard his name.

Mr. Ballantine, you may go in now, the secretary said.

Reluctantly, he stood and entered the office.

Please don’t fire me Mr. Toral, I really need this job, he begged.

Austin, you’re not being fired, it’s a cut back, other people are being let go also.

Cut back, let go, fired...it’s all the same…I won’t have a job. What did I do wrong?

Austin, calm down. You didn’t do anything wrong, hell, you’re a real nice guy, a hard worker, but it has to do with seniority, you’ve only been here two years. I don’t have a choice.

But..... Austin began to reply.

You’ll get two months’ severance to hold you over ‘til you find another job. We’ll give you a good letter of recommendation. Austin, you’re a good worker, you’ll be able to find another job, Mr. Toral said, with an obligatory smile. In truth he really did feel bad for Austin.

Austin looked up, still tightly gripping the left arm of the chair while continuing to scratch his left forearm.

Hire me? Recommendation? Who’ll hire me? I don’t have any solid experience in anything, every time I get somewhere, with a company that I finally think I can have a future with, something always happens. Cut backs, back stabbing, there’s always something and it always boils down to the same thing, I’m outta work again.

I’m sorry Austin, there’s nothing I can do. The two months’ severance pay will help, you should be able to find work during that time.

Austin Ballantine stood, lifting himself from the chair on quivering legs. He turned and started toward the door, the room spinning. As he closed the door the only sound that lingered was a faint, I’m sorry, Austin.

The elevator was down the hall on his right, robotically he approached it, his mind racing. ‘What will I do, where can I go?’ Pressing the button with the arrow that pointed down, he became flushed with anxiety. The tingling inside was starting again.

The elevator doors opened. He stepped inside, pressed the bottom button edged in red that indicated ‘Main Level’ and watched the doors silently close. For the moment he was alone accompanied only by the music floating from the speaker above his head. The fear of the unknown returning, he felt dizzy, unable to focus. His stomach fluttered as the floor seemed to drop from under him as the car hurried to the first floor. The elevator eased to a halt, and the doors hissed opened. People rushed the elevator in too much of a hurry to get somewhere as he wrestled his way through faceless bodies. The lobby was boisterous, hectic, as people went about their daily affairs. Step by mechanical step he made his way to the exit doors, not seeing anything around him except blurred motion. He pushed the doors open and stepped outside. It was a beautiful, sunny, warm spring day in Houston, Texas. A great day to be alive.

He had no car. It had been repossessed for non-payment. He had made the payments, every month, right on time, he was vigilant, heedful of another needless, unfair predicament. He didn’t have a checking account, so he religiously paid by money order the day before the payment was due but his proof of payment was cast aside. The company had illogically applied his payments to another account. When the computer says you haven’t paid, no amount of human rationality could overcome the tangle of wires and circuitry. If it’s in the computer, it must be right.

So he walked, absentmindedly, down Locust Street, left on Pine, two blocks, then right on Market for four more blocks, a shortcut through the alley then a right turn, another half of a block. Open the door, up the steps, apartment 2D, fumble with the key, open the door………safe.

He closed the apartment door and clicked the lock. Crossing the room to the chair by the phone he sat down and dialed. He knew the number by heart.

Dr. Reynolds please.

Dr. Reynolds is in session, could I take a message?

Tell her Austin Ballantine…have her call me, I’m at home…she knows the number.

Austin put the phone back on its cradle.

He could feel it rising from the depths of his chest as it always did when misfortune intruded, the notorious impact of intense anxiety. Flushed, clammy, his breathing rapid as his eyes darted around the room as if something lying in wait would jump from the shadows. Scratching his left forearm, he rose from the chair and headed to the kitchen. On the counter sat a row of plastic containers, his medications. He reached for the one he takes when this happens, unscrewed the cap and shook three of the little tablets into his hand. No, only one…only take one, he reminded himself. His trembling hand deposited two of the tiny white pills back into the plastic container, his heart pounding wildly, deep in his chest. It was getting worse, that feeling, that damned feeling. I’ve gotta get outta here, he thought. But where? he said aloud. Please stop, he pleaded in a breathless gasp.

His hand reached for the glass on the counter and clumsily sent it tumbling, scattering sparkling shards as it shattered on the kitchen floor. He stretched to reach the cabinet, using the counter for support, and flung the door open grasping for another glass only to knock it from the shelf, its splinters joining the fragments that littered the floor.

Panic was setting in.

He slapped his hand to his face in a desperate attempt to chuck the tiny pill into his mouth, only to miss and watch it bounce across the counter. His fingers chased miniscule tablet as it skittered along the counter top toward the sink and the drain. Catching it with his thumb and forefinger, he shoved it past his lips. His right hand twisted the water faucet, using both hands he made an impromptu cup that sloshed a single swallow of water to his mouth helping the medicine slide down his throat.

As he swallowed, he turned his back to the sink, leaned against the counter and slowly slid to the floor, closing his eyes waiting for the relief.

He sat staring; at the floor, the broken glass, across the room, into space, staring at nothing.

The sound startled him, jolting him back to his senses but it didn’t register.

Again, his ears heard. His head cocked, listening, searching. He began to rise, the sound once again ringing in his head. Struggling to his feet, disoriented, gripping the kitchen counter for stability, his legs wouldn’t hold him, and his brain would not allow him to remain standing. Again the sound hounded him as he slid to the kitchen floor. Then a voice, Hi, this is the Ballantine’s. Austin and Traci can’t take your call right now. Leave a message and we’ll call you soon.

Austin, this is Dr. Reynolds, are you there? ………Austin, are you there?

͌

Dr. Kathryn Reynolds tentatively hung up the phone. Reaching for the intercom she rang her secretary. Linda, do you have Mr. Ballantine’s number on the caller I.D.?

Yes, I do doctor, 314-878-0385, I believe that’s his home phone, she answered.

Yes, it is. Thanks. That was the number she had just called. Austin only left the message fifteen minutes ago he had to be there. Linda? she pressed the intercom button again. Do you have Mr. Ballantine’s cell number?

Sure, was the reply. There was a brief pause, then, 636-557-8877.

Thanks. Picking up the phone she pressed the numbers and waited, one ring, two, three.

"The cellular number you have called is no longer a working number. If you believe you’ve reached this recording in error, please try the number again."

͌

Austin heard the apartment door open….then close. He waited for the inevitable. Footsteps echoed on the hardwood floor, then stopped….a faintly audible ‘click’ You have one message. ‘Austin, this is Dr. Reynolds, are you there? ………Austin, are you there?’ You have no more messages.

Goddamnit. Austin? Austin! Where are you?

He heard the footsteps again. Closer, closer. He looked up through expressionless eyes.

What the hell happened now? Traci Ballantine’s 5’ 2 frame towered in the doorway, hands on hips, waiting. Well?"

Traci, not now…please.

Not now, not now? When? What in the hell did you screw up this time? The only time the fucking doctor calls, is when you fucked something up again. Jesus Christ, when I married you I said for life…but I didn’t know it was going to be so fucking long. She turned and stormed away mumbling something that Austin couldn’t understand, something he probably didn’t want to hear anyway.

There was no energy, physical or mental, no motivation, no desire. Austin remained, back against the cabinets, sitting on the floor, eyes closed as snippets of his wife’s phone conversation hung in the air.

I’ve had it…I don’t know…he don’t fuckin’ know……when? Sure, I’ll be there.

Silence.

He heard her slam the phone as faint cigarette smoke touched his nostrils. She never used to smoke, he thought. He listened as she stomped through the house, slammed the closet door, then her feet crossing the living room hardwood floor.

Fuck you Austin! Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.

The door thudded. Cigarette smoke, perfume and quiet hung in the air.

He unconsciously continued to scratch his left forearm.

It was dark when he finally opened his eyes again.

͌

The dark cloud had ominously shadowed Austin Ballantine all of his life. From childhood, his teen years, through his first marriage, job after job, his kids, and now the darkness once again engulfed him.

He truly loved Traci. After a brief romance, when the sun shone through parted clouds and life had been unusually good to Austin, they married. Not long after however, the dream of a normal life steadily vanished, and the familiar grip of a merciless, nameless hand had him in its clutches again. Lost jobs, nagging creditors and a gold-digging ex-wife kept knocking him backward. Once again, the persistent evil hand was holding him down, shoving him back, smothering everything he tried. All of his life it had been there, pulling, tugging pushing…always there. Now here it was again. It never stayed away long, sometimes just long enough for Austin to think he had escaped its cold, unrelenting grasp. But here it was again, the grip as constricted as ever, driving Traci away.

He knew how fortunate he was to have wife like Traci, far too good for him. Years of bad decisions, bad breaks and endless bad luck had shaken his world destroying his self-confidence and self-esteem. Traci was smart, cute, way too cute and Austin felt stupid, undeserving and unworthy.

All of his life Austin strived so hard to do what was right, to be honest, trustworthy, thoughtful of others, but time after time it seemed to backfire on him. As a kid, all through grade school, he was the one the kids made fun of, Teachers’ pet, Austin is the teachers’ pet, they would chant relentlessly. But he liked his teachers, all of them, and they liked him. That was just the way he was, helpful, considerate, it was those qualities that made him the butt of the jokes and ridicule.

He studied hard, achieved respectable marks, trying to be what he believed was proper and moral. It merely gave his classmates something else to make fun of. Even the teachers seemed to take advantage of his good nature, ‘Austin…do this…Austin do that…’, they always had a favor to ask of the nice kid.

But that was fine, Austin was content being the way he was, in spite of the mocking and manipulation, he enjoyed being polite, helpful and honest.

There was one time, many years ago when he was in seventh grade, while walking home from school on a blustery fall day, the cutest girl in his class was walking unaccompanied in front of him. Beth Jamenson’s long blond hair fluttered in the wind while she was clutching her books and struggling to keep her windblown dress from exposing her modesty. An exceptionally fierce gust of wind caught her by surprise causing her to lose grip of her books while grappling with her skirt. The books hit the ground with pages flapping and loose papers blowing. Austin hurried to help her.

Just as he was handing Beth her last book, Bud McKinsey, the class bully and Beth’s self-proclaimed boyfriend, appeared from nowhere and knocked Austin to the ground shouting that he should stay away from his girl. Embarrassed and demoralized Austin sat in the cold, muddy puddle watching as they walked away laughing.

Then there was the time when he joined a little league baseball team. He was so excited, thrilled to be accepted. He would finally be a part of something, a team, he would meet new friends, he would have fun. The downside was that Austin had never been athletic, so consequently he was not adept at catching or hitting the ball. The other kids were much better than he was, actually all of kids were better, but Austin worked hard at improving his baseball skills. He rarely got to play in any of the games, the coach was more focused on winning than allowing the less talented children to have fun.

There was one day when Austin’s grandmother came to watch him play. Austin was excited, his grandmother was excited, but the coach refused to put him in saying this was one game they ‘had to win’ and could only use the best players. Austin sat on the bench, dejected and disappointed despite his grandmother’s love, support and consolation.

The final straw for Austin involved the team’s pitcher who was, of course, the coach’s son. This kid didn’t like Austin, for whatever reason, and every time Austin stepped up to bat during practice, the kid continually directed the ball into Austin’s side. After this happening more than a few times it became apparent to Austin it was intentional. Austin became afraid of getting hit and the kid appeared to get more and more enjoyment from hitting Austin with the ball. It wasn’t very long until Austin quit the team. Austin hated baseball ever since.

Then high school came along. Austin liked high school. The classes were interesting, the teachers would actually talk with you and not just tell you what to do all the time. Austin also had a pretty good job as one of the high school janitors. His friend Eric helped get him the job. Eric’s mother worked in the kitchen at the high school and got Eric a job as the high school’s evening janitor, Eric wanted to work with a friend, so he brought Austin on as his helper. They were responsible for cleaning the first two floors of the high school each evening. Since Austin worked five nights a week, when the weekends came, he always had money, which made him attractive to many of the girls at Austin’s school.

When he was a sophomore, Austin had accumulated enough money to purchase a car. He found a 1961 Chevrolet Bel Air four door that was mechanically sound but in terrible need of a good cleaning and some cosmetic repair. The car had spent its life outside, parked under a big oak tree, which was where it sat when he went to buy it. It looked like it hadn’t been moved from under the tree for years. Dirt, bird droppings and sap nearly hid the medium blue paint and the white roof looked a muddy tan. The grill was caved in and both headlamps were broken but there was no extensive body damage. It looked like all the broken parts could be bought and replaced without having to do any bodywork.

Austin took the car home and immediately began working on it. In just a few short weeks he had replaced the damaged grill and both head lights, thoroughly cleaned the car from top to bottom and rejuvenated the paint with rubbing compound, wax and a lot of sweat. The car looked nearly new when he was finished.

In addition to having more money than most of the other boys in school, owning a car made him very popular with the girls in his class. However, it soon became painfully clear that the transportation and money were the only things that kept the girls interested. But Austin was so proud of his car. It was always clean, shiny and well maintained. During the latter part of his junior year of high school, Ricky Saldino, one of the most popular kids in school, asked Austin if he could borrow his car. His was wrecked and in the repair shop, of course the accident wasn’t his fault, and he had a date that was ‘too hot to miss.’

Austin was hesitant to lend out his recently acquired car, but he wanted to be a nice guy, so he agreed. Ricky dropped the car off to Austin that night after his date and dropped the car keys through the mail slot in Austin’s front door as they had agreed. When Austin went out to his car the next morning he nearly fell over. The whole driver’s side of the Bel Air was dented and scraped, the door handle was gone as was the outside rearview mirror. With the door handle gone Austin had to open the passenger door and slide across the seat to get in to drive. When he got to school, the first thing he did was to track down Ricky Saldino to find out what happened. Of course Ricky didn’t know anything about it, the car was fine when he parked it. Once again, being a nice guy cost him.

And so it continued.

When Austin started college, he pretty much kept to himself, immersing himself in his studies and after only three years earned enough to graduate with his business degree.

It all went down hill from there.

The Nice Guy

Chapter Two

Struggling to stand, using the counter as support, Austin shakily scanned the shadowy room lit only by the streetlight outside the window. But the energy wasn’t there, once again he descended back to the floor. His palms were sweaty, his mind a jumble of emotions, his body quaked, and Austin Ballantine could feel the clamminess upon his brow. It always struck him this way; drained, confused, a bundle of nerves. It compelled him to want to run…away, far away, somewhere, anywhere, nowhere…just away. Everything closed in on him; the air around him suspending its movement, the heat oppressive, the room became his hell.

He hadn’t always been like this, suffering the tension, anxiety and trepidation. It started when he and Lena, Austin’s first wife, began having problems. Since then, over twelve years ago, it had persisted, becoming more and more severe as his life progressed. At times it would creep up on him like flood waters inching up a river bank, other times it would descend and pin him to the ground like an eagle on a rabbit. It was the monkey on is back, sometimes just along for the ride, barely noticeable, but other times it had a strangle hold leaving him pitiful, sweaty and gasping for air.

It was well after 1:00 a.m. before he was able to stand, wobbly and precarious. Feeling his way through the dark apartment, the bed was waiting, as was typical when the attacks occurred, ready to caress and protect him until the medication took effect. Tracy didn’t return home. He lay in bed, the covers over his head so nothing could get him, his mind stalled, until the sunlight filtered through half closed blinds and patterned across his sheets.

Now he sat in a sparsely cushioned, stiff backed chair. The unread magazine on his lap was only there for appearance, he couldn’t focus on it with an avalanche of thoughts spiraling in his head. But when you’re in a waiting room at a doctor’s office that’s what you do, read a magazine.

Dr. Reynolds should be out to see him soon, she never ran late. He looked at his wristwatch, he was ten minutes early. Meanwhile his mind continued to race.

The loss of his job yesterday then the hateful reaction by Traci, even though she was not aware of what happened, nearly put him over the edge. He tried to be nice, he was always nice but for what? He constantly seemed to get the short straw every time. From grade school, to high school, college, jobs, friends, girlfriends, wives, it always ended up the same, Austin got screwed.

Now another job was gone, Traci was angry, again, and like so many times before, everything appeared to be playing over again. Time after time his short history kept repeating itself.

Nice guys always finish last, kept running through his mind. But that’s what he was, a nice guy, it was his nature. All his life he had been the nice guy, no matter the cost. Treat people fair, treat them with respect, go out of your way for others and it would always come back to you in time.

Bullshit!

He was approaching the point of getting angry, lashing out, to finally, after all this time, stand up for himself and stand up to those that took advantage of him. But he couldn’t. Wimpy, little Austin Ballantine, he thought, wimpy, sissy, spineless, coward, useless, yep that was Austin, put on this earth to be walked on.

Hello Austin.

He literally jumped at the sound.

I’m sorry, Austin, I didn’t mean to startle you, Dr. Kathryn Reynolds said with a smile.

As he hurriedly stood, the magazine slid from his lap falling to the floor at his feet, immediately he picked it up then dropped it once again as he tried to lay it on the table.

Dammit, he mumbled. Clumsy, klutzy dumb ass, he thought to himself. Hi Doctor….

She smiled at his awkwardness. Come in to my office Austin, it’s nice to see you again, Dr. Reynolds said as she led the way from the lobby, through the corridor to her office.

Austin didn’t think she really meant the, ‘nice to see me’ part, after all, the only time she saw him was when the proverbial shit hit the fan and once again the shit was flying freely. Austin took his customary place in the wing backed chair that had become his traditional seat during their sessions. Dr. Kathryn Reynolds immediately noticed his nervous habit of him scratching his left forearm.

She took a seat in her wheeled office chair and rolled closer to Austin.

That was one thing he always liked about her, no notes, not even on his first visit years ago, when he was a total wreck on the threshold of something extreme. She seemed to have a true interest and genuine concern for her patients, unlike other shrinks that viewed their patients only as customers through a revolving door. She faithfully listened and didn’t need notes to recall what he had said. Sure, she undoubtedly documented the conversations after their session, but that was to be expected because of her many patients. He was comfortable with her after the initial visit, becoming trusting and confident in her in the subsequent years.

This session began exactly the same as all of their previous sessions, she didn’t initiate the exchange, always waiting for Austin to begin. Sometimes ten, fifteen, even twenty minutes would elapse before Austin mustered the courage to speak. Even then it was a fleeting comment such as ‘Well, here we are again’ or ‘Doctor, I just don’t know what to do’ or one time he just said, ‘Help me’

Dr. Reynolds response was always short and concise as well, guiding the session right back in his lap, pressing him to do the talking. She’d say ‘Really’ or ‘What do you mean?’ or simply ‘And…….’

And so, this session started. Austin sat, inadvertently still scratching his left forearm, Dr. Reynolds was quite aware of his unconscious nervous habit, observing his physical mannerisms as she waited for him to speak.

I think I’ve just about had it Doctor.

Really?

Yeah, really.

In what way?

In every way.

Austin’s tone was subdued and composed. He realized he needed to express something, to get his emotions out, whatever they were. Austin slowly and deliberately lifted his head, staring directly into the doctor’s eyes. She returned the gaze anticipating what he had to say next.

I want this to stop, he said, his voicing intensifying. Right now…today…. Austin’s voice grew louder, shaded with a tinge of anger. All of it…I’m done with it…I can’t keep being treated this way….I want to fight back…I’m tired of people screwing me…all my life people screwed with me…. Austin’s lips quivered, his jaw set, eyes growing wider, his voice becoming more penetrating and forceful.

Dr. Reynolds saw all of this as well as Austin’s tightened fists.

Easy Austin, she said softly. Tell me what happened.

It doesn’t matter what happened. He was now virtually shouting. Something always happens…it doesn’t matter…it doesn’t matter…it doesn’t matter…. and with that his voice trailed off.

Austin we need to talk about this, you…

Fired! Fired again, he said through clenched teeth. Now Traci’s mad, again, and she don’t even know why. She just knows I screwed up again. Then, in a deep hateful cold voice, She’s fucking somebody, he scowled, anger materializing in his eyes. And I’m getting fucked…fucked by my job, fucked by my wife, fucked in every direction….

Kathryn Reynolds had never witnessed behavior like this in the twelve years that she had been counseling him. But she had seen the warnings signs before, the indicators of someone ready to break.

Austin, try to calm down. I understand that you feel used, cheated…and it’s ok to get mad but we need to focus the anger in the right direction. We need to focus it on giving you courage and confidence, we can’t let it control you, you must control the anger.

Austin did not say a word.

Austin………Austin, talk to me.

Austin looked up, drained, pale. I can’t…., he began, then stopped, tears beginning to fill his eyes.

You can’t what? the doctor said in a soft soothing voice.

Anything, he replied.

Anything? She did not want to say something that could elicit any thoughts in his mind, she wanted him to say only what he could. He had to figure it out; she couldn’t give him the answers.

He stared at her through tear filled eyes.

Talk to me Austin.

Nothing…..anything…..can’t feel nothing anymore…can’t think about anything anymore……it’s hopeless… His voice trailed off.

Austin, nothing is hopeless unless you allow it to be, it’s…

It’s hopeless, hopeless. His voice now seething with anger. Nothing will change unless I make it change….

That’s right Austin, you….

He interrupted, his voice increasing in volume. It won’t change unless I make it change, he repeated, Unless I make people treat me different. I’m tired Doctor… I’m at the end of my rope and I’m tired, tired of being walked on, tired of being taken advantage…. A tear rolled from the corner of his left eye, his jaw began to tighten, his eyes opened wide, not blinking, then slowly narrowed to slits as he glared with an internal vehemence. Then, in an incredibly tranquil, measured voice he said, I’m tired of being a nice guy.

͌

Dr. Reynolds steadily pacified him and after he departed, she believed that they had had a good session. They made some headway and it appeared as if Austin was finally in a position to turn his life around. She needed to keep close contact with him however, many times when a patient was this close to a breakthrough, it was just as easy for them to break and do something drastic. She didn’t feel this would be an issue with Austin, but she would take no chances, she liked him and truly wanted him to be able to get his life straightened out.

Somehow, Austin found his way from Dr. Reynolds office to the bus stop and was now sitting on the bus, his mind a conglomeration of thoughts. The scenery crept past the windows of the bus as it snaked its way through the city but his mind raced. He had to be strong. It was crucial for him to push the problems of the past back into the past and tackle his life with courage and determination. That sounded easier than it was, hell, it didn’t even sound easy! The angry outbursts and the sinister tone that surrounded some of his thoughts and comments surprised him, probably even more than they surprised Dr. Reynolds. He could still feel the anger rumbling deep within.

If he could simply make it through a few months without some kind of shit smacking him in the face, hell even if it would be a few weeks, he believed that maybe he could develop sufficient strength and fortitude to eventually make a decent existence for himself. He had to find a way to break the chaos and confusion that had haunted him all his life.

He was also desperate to make it work with Traci. He could excuse her anger, he could undeniably understand it. If he was able to get her off the roller coaster ride he created, she would calm down and their relationship would return to the joy and passion it had when it began. He knew she loved him. Why else would she still be with him after all of his fuck ups and perpetual turmoil? Sure, she loved him, he knew it, he felt it. His remark to Dr. Reynolds about her fucking somebody was just his insecurity soaring to the surface, plus it afforded the opportunity to put the blame somewhere other than on himself if she were. He knew she was faithful, he knew she loved him.

Austin was feeling better already.

The moment Austin opened the door to his apartment he heard music. He was certain Traci wasn’t home. She worked until 5:00 pm and by the time she drove home from work it would be at least 5:30, looking at his watch it was only a little after three. Plus, he told her that he was going job hunting after he finished his session with Dr. Reynolds and wouldn’t be