American Beauty

Mr. Moffatt looked at him with astonishment. "I never sent you any such text," he said flatly.

"Sure you did," Scott said, activating his phone, "I'll show you." Holding the phone in one hand he used the other to call up the list of his text messages. Then he cursed and began to scroll frantically through the list. Finally he stopped and looked up. "It's been erased!" he said angrily. "Someone must have deliberately erased it."

I thought I spotted a faint smile on Peter's lips, but when Scott turned to confront him, Peter's face was a blank.

But Scott wasn't through. To everyone's astonishment he reached across Mr. Moffatt's desk and boldly snatched up his phone. "Not even password protected!" I heard him mutter as he proceeded to call up Mr. Moffatt's text message function. There was nothing listed. "Where are all your texts?" Scott demanded loudly.

I'd worked with Mr. Moffatt long enough to know that he was growing angrier by the second. "I don't send text messages. If I want to communicate with someone, I call them."

Scott looked around accusingly. "Somebody sent me a text message announcing my promotion, and now they've erased the evidence on my phone and on yours!" He stared at Peter, then turned his head in my direction. I quickly ducked back behind the door.

"Young man," Mr. Moffatt thundered, "none of this is important. We're having this meeting because I want to know what went on in the hospitality suite last night. Would you care to explain?"

"There's really nothing to explain," Scott said hastily. "After somebody misled me into believing I had been promoted, my team and I had a little celebration, that's all. It wouldn't have happened if I hadn't been the victim of a malicious prank."

"I see," Mr. Moffatt said somewhat ominously. Then he looked up. "Ms. Martin, would you come help me, please?"

When I hurried to his side, he pointed at his computer. "Can you set this damned thing up so we can look at some pictures I got by email?"

I quickly went to his keyboard and expanded the window to full-screen mode. "It's all set," I assured him.

"Good," he said. "Now, please check my email for one from Lucas Masterson." As I did so, he looked at Scott and Peter. "Does the name Lucas Masterson mean anything to either of you?"

Scott quickly piped up, "Of course. Lucas Masterson is president of Masterson Industries, our biggest single customer."

"Very good, Scott," Mr. Moffatt said patronizingly. "And would you agree that we would always want to impress Mr. Masterson with our professionalism and competence?"

"Of course," Scott said with a puzzled look on his face.

Now Mr. Moffatt's tone was low and menacing. "Late last night I received a call from Lucas, who's an old friend of mine. He wanted to know if this Expo was typical of the type of behavior we condone at Magnetadyne. When I professed my ignorance, he sent me an email with some photographs he took when he went looking for someone from Magnetadyne who could answer a question. Ms. Martin, would you display those photos for us?"

Hesitantly I clicked to start the slide show in motion. The first picture showed a group of people from our Sales department milling around the bar at the hospitality suite. It appeared that people were helping themselves to the liquor there.

The next slide showed Scott standing on a small stage that had been erected next to the bar. He was drinking from a bottle and leading the people below him in a cheer. I noted that there was a banner with the Magnetadyne name and logo directly behind the stage. The story was that Mr. Moffatt had personally designed the company's logo: an upright hand with the index finger making the number one sign. I knew Mr. Moffatt wouldn't be happy to see that included in the picture.

But the next photo was worse. Now in addition to Scott there were two young women standing on either side of him, and he had his arms around both. I glanced over at Peter and mouthed, "Who are they?" He shrugged his shoulders in ignorance.

The next picture showed Scott dancing with the two women on the stage. Looking at them, my impression was that all three of them were quite drunk. That impression was reinforced by the fact that the two women appeared to be performing a striptease, to Scott's obvious delight.

When the next photograph flashed onscreen, a collective gasp filled the room. One of the nymphets had lost all of her clothes, and Scott was fondling her to the cheers of the audience.

Before I could stop it, the next shot came onscreen revealing Scott using a three-dimensional model of the company logo like a dildo on the complaisant young woman.

"Turn it off!" Mr. Moffatt shouted, and I quickly shut off the monitor to hide the offending image.

"Mr. Benson, not only did you disgrace yourself last night, but you brought disgrace on Magnetadyne Industries as well," he thundered.

Scott's face was red, and he angrily shouted, "Wait a minute, I'm the victim here. None of this would have happened if I hadn't been tricked into believing I'd been promoted."

"Thank God you weren't promoted!" Mr. Moffatt roared. Then he regained his composure somewhat. "It doesn't make the slightest difference to me why you acted the way you did. The fact remains that your behavior was totally outrageous and completely unacceptable. Even if the head of our best customer hadn't walked in and seen the debauchery, you would still have been setting a terrible example for your own people."

He turned abruptly to me. "Ms. Martin, get HR and Security up here right away. Have them escort Mr. Benson back to his office and tell them he has fifteen minutes to remove any personal items from his desk. Effective immediately, Mr. Benson's employment with Magnetadyne is terminated for cause."

"Yessir," I squeaked, and hastened to make the calls.

Behind me, I heard Scott yelling. "This is all your fault, Hammill. You set me up!" But before he could do or say anything more, one of our Security personnel arrived and began to escort Scott away. As they waited for the elevator, Peter came out of Mr. Moffatt's office and walked up beside Scott. I was out in the hallway looking for the HR representative so I was just able to hear what Peter whispered to Scott: "You fucked my wife, now you're the one who's fucked."

Scott snarled like an animal, but the Security man quickly stepped between them. The elevator arrived just then with the head of HR, so the three of them got on and rode down, leaving Peter and me behind. As I turned to go back to the office, Peter said quietly, "When you get a chance, please come see me. I need to talk to you about all this."

I assured him I would and then hastened back to Mr. Moffatt's door. "Is there anything I can do for you, Mr. Moffatt?" I asked.

He looked up at me with weary eyes, and I could tell that all this had taken a toll on him. "Yes, actually there are three things I need, Ms. Martin. First and foremost, please accept my apologies for making you view those lewd photographs. At least I managed to stop them before the shot that showed Scott, um, having sex with that little tramp, but I had forgotten what he'd done in the way of foreplay."

I smiled and nodded my appreciation for his gentlemanly sensitivity.

"The second thing you could do would be to try to get Lucas Masterson on the phone so I can apologize to him again and let him know what steps I've taken this morning to ensure this debacle will not be repeated."

I started to go back to my desk, but he stopped me. "And once you've reached Lucas, could you please get those damned photographs off my computer and phone? I don't ever want to see them again."

I nodded and picked up his phone to take it back at my desk. As I did so he gave me a shrewd look. "I don't know who led Scott to believe he'd been promoted," he said and my heart leapt into my throat. "But I think I owe him - or her - a debt of gratitude for helping reveal Scott's true nature." I couldn't tell for sure, but I think I saw the slightest of grins on his face before he resumed his normal manner. "Now about that phone call to Lucas . . .," he said, and I scurried off to my desk.

By the time lunch rolled around, the news of Scott's dismissal was all over the building, and stories about what had caused it were rampant. I did my best to avoid any conversations about the subject; I figured that I had been way too close for comfort and didn't want any more conjecture about my role than there already might be.

But I did make it a point to go by Peter's office. I wanted to let him know what Mr. Moffatt had said to me because I thought it might reassure Peter that there was no other shoe about to drop.

I expected that he would be greatly relieved, but after I'd finished I still saw the weariness etched on his face and that bothered me. Nevertheless, I asked him the question that had bothered me ever since I saw the incriminating slide show this morning: "Peter, who were those two women with Scott?"

He gave me a little smile. "I don't know for sure, but I suspect they were 'freebirds,'" he said. When he saw my confusion, he went on, "We get them at almost every trade show. They're people who sneak into the show looking for free food, free booze and a free party in the hospitality suites. And if the conditions are just right, they also might be up for a little free sex."

"You've never . . ." I started, but he waved me off immediately. "Never," he said firmly. "In the first place, only a fool would risk exposure to whatever diseases they might have. Second, I'm a faithful husband and . . ." He stopped abruptly and his face grew bitter. My heart went out to him.

"So when do you plan to confront her?" I asked gently.

"When I get home from work today," he said wearily. "I've been working with an attorney and I'm going to give Callie the papers in person tonight."

"I'm so sorry, Peter," I said softly. "I've been so focused on this mess with Scott that I almost forgot about her."

Then a thought came to mind. "Peter, I don't know if it would help, but I haven't yet deleted those photos that Lucas Masterson took. Would you like me to print out a copy for you?"

He thought about it and then nodded. "Yes, please. I'd like to show Callie just what kind of man she chose over me," he said grimly.

When I returned to his office to give him the prints I'd made, he was already preparing to leave. "I want to be waiting for her when she gets home," he told me. "Besides, I might as well get out of here - I won't be worth a damn until I get this over with."

"I understand," I told him. "But if you'd like to talk about it afterwards, I'll be here."

"Thanks," he said, "I'd like that. You're really the only one who knows what's going on."

That evening Marge invited me to go out for a drink but I declined. I was exhausted from the drama that had played out that morning, and now I was concerned about Peter. I couldn't seem to get my mind off the confrontation he was facing, and I knew I would be lousy company for Marge.

For the second night in a row I had trouble sleeping, and once again I wound up going in to the office early in hopes of seeing Peter. I was waiting outside his office when he arrived, and he thanked me for the cup of coffee I'd brought for him.

When we were seated on the sofa and arm chair in his office, I couldn't wait any longer and asked him how things went with Callie. "About like you'd expect," he said, and proceeded to tell me the whole story.

I was waiting at the kitchen table when Callie got home from work. She was startled to see me; usually, I get home much later than her. Anyway, she came over, sat down across from me and asked me what was going on. I knew I couldn't put it off any longer so I handed her an envelope.

"What's this?" she asked, but I just told her to see for herself. She opened the envelope and began to look at the screen-captures I'd taken from your video of Scott's screened-in porch. When she saw the first shot she wasn't sure what she was seeing, but when she turned over the next photo, she gasped in shock. Then she hastily thumbed through the rest of the set before looking up at me. Her face was red, and I wondered whether she was more upset about what she'd done or the fact that she'd been caught doing it.

"Peter, I know what I did was wrong but this was just a one-time mistake I made. You'd been so tied up at work and it had been so long since we made love that when Scott came on to me I just couldn't help myself."

I shook my head in disgust. "That's not true and you know it, Callie. This wasn't a single moment of weakness, it was an ongoing affair."

"No, I swear, this was the only time it happened."

Instead of arguing with her, I held up my cellphone and started to play the video I'd copied from your phone. The expression on her face was priceless as she went from discomfort to defensiveness to outright anger as she was forced to watch her antics on the small screen. But when the soundtrack began to replay her laughter at making me her cuckold, she was embarrassed enough to yell, "Turn it off, dammit!"

I let it play a moment longer, then stopped it.

"Alright, fine, you know about us. And I suppose those are divorce papers in the other envelope?" she asked coolly.

I pushed it across the table and she quickly riffled through the pages. I thought she'd be taken aback, but she seemed pretty nonchalant about being served. "It doesn't really matter," she said. "I was planning to file for divorce myself as soon as Scott gets that big promotion at work."

"So you tossed our marriage away because you wanted the money and prestige of being married to a big executive?" I asked bitterly.

"Look, Peter, let's be realistic about this. You've been working all those long hours - and ignoring me in the process, I might add - but let's face it: you were getting absolutely nowhere."

That really made me angry. "I was working those long hours to make a better life for the two of us!" I said heatedly. "I thought that was what you wanted."

She gave me a patronizing smile. "That's what I thought for a long time, but while I was redecorating Scott's home he gave me the real lowdown on you and your career. You're just spinning your wheels at Magnetadyne while he's about to jump to the next level."

"On that video it looked to me like you were much more interested in his cock than his career path," I said nastily.

She had the decency to blush. "Maybe I like both of them better than what you have to offer," she snapped back at me.

Suddenly I felt old and tired. I rubbed my face. "So you and Scott plan to get married as soon as our divorce is final and he lands that big promotion?" I asked.

"Exactly," she said.

"What if I were to tell you that Scott isn't going to get that big promotion after all?"

She gave me a calculating look. "I'd say you were a pathetic, clumsy liar."

"What if I were to tell you that Scott was fired for cause from Magnetadyne this very morning?" I asked.

I saw fear flit across her eyes, but she recovered quickly. "That's impossible," she said loudly. "He's doing great and his sales team is setting records. There's no way they could do without him."

I guess I have a sadistic streak in me because I found myself enjoying this. I reached in my jacket pocket and pulled out another envelope. "What's that?" she demanded.

"Just some candid shots of your boyfriend taken at Expo in Vegas earlier this week," I said. "You better have a close look because I can assure you that Mr. Moffatt was very interested when he saw them this morning."

I opened the envelope and showed her the first photo. She relaxed a little. "Nobody's going to complain about a sales director blowing off a little steam after a successful trade show," she said.

The second photo also elicited no comment from her, but I could see that she was growing apprehensive. When I turned the next photo over, she gave a little gasp. "Who are those two floozies with Scott?" she asked jealously.

"Beats me," I said. "I've never seen them before in my life. But Scott seems to be on very close terms with them," I added, and flipped the next shot over.

She said nothing, but her face grew dark as she saw the impromptu striptease. And when she saw the photo of Scott diddling one of the women with the company logo, she slammed her fist into the table. When I turned over the last two photos showing him performing various sexual acts on the two drunken women, she broke down and began to cry. "How could he cheat on me that way?" she blubbered. "How could he humiliate me in front of all those people?"

The irony of her reaction left me speechless.

After a while she raised her head and stared at me through reddened eyes. "Is it true?" she asked.

"Is what true?" I snapped.

"Scott told me you were sleeping with your boss's secretary."

"Is that what this is all about?" I asked in astonishment. "You started an affair with Scott to get revenge on me?"

"I've seen her. She's so beautiful I figured you couldn't resist her."

"I hate to break it to you, but not everyone has the same morals as you and Scott. For your information, I have always been 100% faithful to you." I stared at her and shook my head in disgust. "I can't believe you took the word of a . . . a salesman!"

Her head went back down and she began to cry piteously.

I got up from the table, grabbed my keys and went out to get myself some dinner. When I returned, I found that Callie had packed her personal things and left.

I felt so sad listening to him. "That must have been just awful for you, Peter!" I said when he had finished. "How are you doing now?"

"To be honest," he said quietly, "my emotions are all over the place. I feel a lot of bitterness toward Callie for cheating on me, yet I can't help feeling depressed that my marriage is ending. I'm glad that Scott got what he deserved, but I feel wrung out by the whole experience. More than anything else, Jess, I just feel exhausted."

"I know it's bad, Peter, but I promise you that it will get better," I said.

Although the executives tried to keep a lid on the circumstances leading to Scott's ignominious dismissal, there were too many people who knew at least some of the facts, and the story was the number one subject of gossip for the next few weeks. Ironically, it was Scott's old team that was the most eager to dish the dirt, perhaps in revenge for the way he had treated them as their boss. Peter's team members generally kept their confidences, but it was clear they felt like they were delighted by the outcome.

Unfortunately, the back-story about the role Scott had played in Peter and Callie's divorce also became common gossip in the halls. No one asked Peter about it directly, but whenever he left the room, furtive comments and hushed conversations began. I hated that for his sake, but there was nothing I could do to protect him. Knowing as much as I did, I could only keep quiet on the whole matter. I did try to keep in touch with Peter as often as possible to make sure he was doing okay. I found myself looking for excuses to drop by his office during the day or to eat lunch at the table with his team.

Every so often, Marge would come by and take me to her favorite tavern after work. In her position as the CEO's assistant, I expect she probably knew almost as much about what had happened as I did, but she never brought up the subject at our little outings. She did make a point of asking me how Peter was doing, and I tried to keep her posted on what I'd seen and observed. She also kept asking how I was doing, which seemed odd to me because I had been only peripherally involved. But she always asked and I always reassured her that everything was fine.

About four months later, I got a call one afternoon from Debby, the woman who had run the control desk for Peter during Expo. She told me that his team was holding a little surprise celebration for Peter after work and wanted to know if I'd like to join them. When I asked her what the occasion was, she told me that Peter's divorce had just become final. Of course I told her that I'd be there.