Strike Three

Strike Three - okay, back to the stories I prefer writing; humourous, with a twist. Mine is a fairly farcical little yarn, and took me only a couple of hours to write, which probably shows. This one was inspired after reading a really awful novel which the publishers should have rejected after merely sniffing it - it stank. Okay, okay, maybe there was more than a little influence from an author that I know quite well, not a crime is it? ;)


“What an utter, utter bastard. How could he do this to me? Erm, I mean, to us?” She ran her hand frantically through her spiky hair in a fruitless attempt to cover up the faux pas.

“He’s my husband. I think I have the right to be most annoyed.” She dipped her head to sip her tea, at an angle she knew gave her the best profile when she was being observed; she knew that most heterosexual men in the lobby wouldn’t take their eyes off the well-dressed and beautiful lady. Hell, even if they were gay they would be looking.

“Neither of us knew he was married until today, I think the shock for us is probably worse, I mean, a married man having an affair is almost…” the slightly chubby one blushed a little and picked up another biscuit.

“Almost what? Expected?” she was fuming, “I have known this man for ten whole years. You have known him for maybe a couple of months…”

“Three years.” said Spiky Hair.

“Eighteen months.” said the chubby one.

“Well there you go then…..three years? I’ve only been married to him for five! Bastard.”

“Bastard.” they echoed in turn.

The three girls had only met about ten minutes before. They were standing at reception waiting for their room keys, and the spiky-haired one, who announced herself as Tasha Porter, asked if her fiancée had arrived yet, and stated his name, Andrew Butler.

Belinda, the posh one, who was standing just behind her, said “I am also waiting for my husband, Andrew Butler, what a co-incidence!” It might have been left at that, when the chubby one, Lisa, exclaimed, “My boyfriend’s name is Andrew Butler!”

They had stared at each other for a few moments, whilst waiting for their keys, still under the assumption that this was just a crazy co-incidence. After all, there must be hundreds of Andrew Butlers. Tasha broke the ice by asking if they had a photo of Andrew, for comparison purposes. Of course, they all had.

It was the same photograph.

“He must have a job lot of them. I wonder how many more girls have this photograph,” Belinda had removed the photo from her purse and was viewing it with disdain. “I took this photograph. He must have found the negative. Or scanned it into the computer.”

They were sitting around a table on the veranda, drinking Earl Grey tea and eating ginger biscuits. Tasha found the Earl Grey tea as appetising as dishwater and Lisa worried about the number of biscuits she was putting away. Still, it was Belinda’s idea to have a council of war over a cup of tea, so naturally she ordered the refreshments.

None of them had any pretensions that they could be friends under any other circumstances. They had decided early on that they didn’t like each other very much, and each wondered what Andrew saw in either one of the others. Tasha thought that Belinda was a stuck up cow who didn’t deserve the amount of money she was obviously making. Belinda thought that a woman should dress well and look after themselves, and especially not allow their dress size to go beyond a size 8 or so; Lisa appeared to have not so much let herself go, but sent it on a one way trip to Mars. Lisa thought that Tasha was too obtrusive; spiky blonde hair, a multicoloured scarf around her neck and a gregariously patterned dress in crazy colours, that awful, awful current fashion. She also had a habit of speaking rather loudly, in an indeterminate American dialect. She looked, and sounded, like a mangled Scooby Doo cartoon.

“So then.” Tasha shouted, or so it seemed to Lisa. “What do we do now?”

Belinda snapped her purse shut. “We surprise him.”

“Yay, lay in ambush, right? So now, where will we wait?”

“My room, naturally. I don’t suppose he’s booked a junior suite for either of you has he? Thought not.”

Tasha ground her teeth. Lisa wanted to be a hundred miles away.

“So, you wait in my room, I will wait for him here and bring him up to…face the music.”

“When’s he due here?” Tasha was thinking she didn’t want to spend too much time alone with the mousey Lisa. Lisa definitely did not want to spend too much time with the mouthy Tasha.

Belinda consulted her watch, a slim line gold Cartier that Tasha figured was probably worth more than her car brand new. “About half an hour I should think. Why, didn’t he tell you when he was likely to be here?”

“Considering you’re being pretty vague, I don’t think he gave you a specific time either.”

Belinda glared at Lisa, but decided not to start any arguments. She needed both of them when she confronted Andrew, the full evidence and the witnesses. She could sense why Tasha had asked the question though, she wasn’t stupid.

“I’ll take you up to my room and you can take it in turns to freshen up, there’s plenty of towels and there is usually a complimentary bowl of toiletries. There’s a TV, video and computer, and I have a few books with me. I’m sure you can keep yourselves amused for a little while.”

The patronising bitch, thought Tasha. You can bet I’m going to milk this chance of luxury as much as possible, thought Lisa. They all looked round for their luggage, such as it was, they were only booked for one night.

Lisa said: “Don’t you think it’s a bit odd we’re all here at the same time? Why would he take that risk?”

“Who knows what’s going on in that head of his? It could be that he saw it like a gigolo’s pub crawl – hopping from one room to the next.” Belinda had already starting walking towards the lifts.

Lisa was unconvinced, but shrugged and followed Belinda, with Tasha just seconds behind.



“Bel, darling, you got here ahead of me!”

“Don’t call be Bel, Andrew, you know I don’t like it. I don't call you Andy.”

“Aha, well you’re eager enough to be here early, so I guess you can’t mind too much.”

Belinda held her tongue, and Andrew continued to spout small talk and nonsense all the way across the lobby, into the lifts, and along the corridor to the suite. He seemed oblivious that her responses were either monosyllabic, or non existent. Arrogant git. He’s getting his.

They entered the room, where Tasha was lounging on a sofa, idly flicking through the TV channels. She turned and looked at Andrew in triumph. Out from the bathroom came Lisa, who stood just by the doorway and folded her arms. Belinda stood beside him, lightly tapping her foot, waiting for his next move. She was ready to close the door sharpish if he decided to bolt.

Whatever the girls expected, it wasn’t a massive grin, followed by rubbing hands, and a gleeful retort:

“Excellent. You’re all here. That’s saved me some trouble. Coffee all round is it?”

He headed towards the small coffee point just behind one of the sofas, and the silence was such that he could hear all three jaws click open.

Lisa sat down in one of the easy chairs. Belinda sat on the sofa opposite Tasha. All were in too much shock to speak. None of them had really planned what to say when Andrew was finally in front of them, but any rehearsals they may have made were completely redundant.

Andrew handed the coffees out. “So then. Belinda. Black, strong, no sugar. Tasha. Weak and milky, no sugar. Lisa. Fairly strong and white, one sugar. Me. Black, two sugars. Everyone happy?”

Silence, as all three, for once, had nothing to say.

He chuckled. "Okay, I best get all this out of the way. I was thinking about seeing you individually, but you meeting up and finding out my secret has made it so much easier, so convenient. This way, we can sort this all out in a civilised fashion and all of you know where you stand. Or sit." He giggled at his rather pathetic joke. “So pleased you saved me the bother of having to introduce you all to each other.”

He sat down in the only remaining chair and turned towards Belinda.

"My dear Belinda. I want a divorce."

Belinda growled. "You bet you're getting a divorce. I'm going to hurt you so bad you're going to wish you had run away and joined the Foreign Legion."

Andrew was still smiling, so Belinda felt she had to up the ante.

"You forget, dearest Andrew, just how many people I know. Just five minutes of my time, a few words in a few ears and your property portfolio won't be worth the price of a bus ticket..."

"Blackmail, Belinda? Well, of course, you'd know all about that wouldn't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, there's a certain model in your agency, becoming quite famous I'm told. A couple of Page Threes, followed by some high profile fashion magazines and now she's on the verge of a major deal with a cosmetics company. I understand, though, she isn't quite seeing all the money that she's worth, due to someone threatening to tell the press that she's gay. Belinda, you really should learn about secure passwords and deleting e-mails from your Sent Items. All printed out. All safe in a bank vault. The tabloids would love that story."

Belinda went a darker shade of olive, which Tasha figured meant she was embarrassed. Either that, or the air conditioning was broken.

"I have a friend who's gay." muttered Lisa.

"My sister's gay!" said Tasha, venom in her voice.

"The press love a good story. But they hate blackmailers more. Belinda, although you make sure that, everywhere she goes, she is hanging off the arm of some eligible bachelor, although she is the wet dream of every hot bloodied male, being gay isn't the career-wrecker it used to be. In fact, the public seem to embrace it nowadays. So, you lose the hot-bloodied men. But you gain a new public."

"Don't tell me how to run my business..."

"You wouldn't have a business if it weren't for me. I made so many good contacts at university, all consultants in your agency, and, oh, all such good friends of mine still."

"I will sue your arse so hard that you won't know your.."

"Who will be the lawyer? Oh yes, that would be my best friend, my room-mate at university."

Belinda was muttering, still flushed, but still trying to maintain a certain level of dignity.

"Oh, and I nearly forgot. You won't get a penny of my money or property. It's all signed over to someone else. I am worth precisely.." he reached in his pocket and revealed a handful of coins, "seventy six pence." He waved his hand around the room, “All this, and your two rooms downstairs, are paid for on Belinda’s credit card. I told you that security wasn’t her strong point.”

Belinda was still trying to digest all of this, but didn't get a chance to get it together enough to fight further. He was now looking at Tasha.

"Tasha, darling."

"Don't Tasha, darling me. You worthless, low-life, scumbag son of a b-"

"You forget how much you owe me."

"I owe you nothing, you c-"

"How much do you owe Brian?"

Silence. And Tasha's head dropped into her hands, as her face too, got darker. Although she had a faded tan, this was a little more noticeable, a warm pink.

"How did you find out?" she murmured.

"Belinda, Lisa. Tasha came from America in search of her ancestors, and doubtless hoping that they'd become rich Lords or some such, she'd inherit lots of money and maybe even a title. Of course, she found that London was not paved with gold, and all she possessed were the clothes she stood up in, and a pair of silver scissors, a family heirloom I understand, with which she earned just enough to pay the rent cutting people's hair on the street.

"I was one of her punters, and I could see her potential. I set her up with a shop, stock, and some free advertising in the form of a word in the ear of various girlfriends and wives of friends of mine, and now she runs a thriving business from one of Chelsea's most sought after sites."

Tasha had raised her head, and said indignantly "I paid you back! Every last cent, with interest!"

"Oh yes, Tasha, you've done so well. You're even thinking of expanding I hear, and have had a chat with the bank. In fact, several chats, a couple of candlelit dinners, a trip to the theatre, and the odd overnight stay in a certain loan manager's flat."

Tasha‘s eyes widened. "I-I-was going to tell you, to call it off. I love him, Andrew."

"Before or after we were married?"

"Before!" she exclaimed, but neither of the other girls were convinced by this.

"Yes, I would have kept you in the manner I'm sure both of you would have had no difficulty in getting accustomed to. Tasha, you forgot something. That bank is my bank too. I have been a customer there since I made my first fiver playing marbles in the playground. The manager saw what was going on. So, in the interests of good customer relations, he told me.” Tasha just groaned, defeated. She twiddled her engagement ring off and slung it on the low table in front of her.

“So then, Lisa.”

Lisa was wringing her hands around in her blouse, wondering what possible bomb shell Andrew was going to drop on her. Belinda and Tasha were relieved that the heat was now off them whilst the attention was turned to the quiet, plain one. Tasha found herself feeling sorry for her; the girl looked like a vicar’s daughter for goodness sake, what could she have possibly done to deserve a round of Andrew’s bedside manner? Lisa finally raised her eyes to meet his.

“You two,” he continued, “could learn a lot about honesty and determination from Lisa. Although she’s….curvy, would you believe she was twice this size when I first met her?”

Lisa’s eyes started to fill. No, don’t do this to me, she wanted to scream.
He took hold of her hands. “Through sheer self control and belief, she beat bulimia. With a little help from me, of course, I found her an excellent shrink, and here she is, growing in confidence daily.” He smiled. “Lisa, you could have all of this, every day. Have room service hourly. Drive around in flashy cars. Have the best clothes and shoes. Go to the very best parties in the city. You would never have to work again. In fact, you can have it right now. For I have signed over everything I own to you so,” he glanced at Tasha and Belinda, “neither of them can touch it.

“I have nothing on you at all. You are just a simple, honest, office worker with no skeletons, no delusions, no signs of avarice and no lovers. You are the girl I’ve been looking for. I will stop all my philandering and love only you. Lisa, darling, will you marry me?”

Belinda and Tasha were looking like a couple of Alsatians who had just run non-stop round Hyde Park, twice. All you could hear in the room was their short breaths as they stared at Lisa, willing her to answer. Both were disgusted at Andrew for revealing Lisa’s secret in such an appalling manner, but all the same, hadn’t he just offered her the security every girl dreamed of? Still Lisa didn’t speak, in fact she seemed the most serene and calm of all of them. Finally, she uttered a sentence so quietly the other two strained to listen.

“Andrew, I have a secret.”

“Oh, and what’s that? You don’t have another boyfriend, that I know for sure.” Andrew smiled condescendingly. Lisa smiled back.

“I was born a man.”



They couldn’t have known that Andrew had had a weak heart. Everyone agreed with that. But the two policemen were maybe a little suspicious of the circumstances; all three had had a “relationship” with the late Mr Butler, and just so happened to be in the same hotel room at the time of his demise. They were still not entirely satisfied until Belinda insisted that she knew of the ‘other women’ and had invited them here to confront him, the rooms were booked in her name, with her credit card, if they wanted to check. Nobody in the very busy hotel remembered seeing Andrew, he hadn’t gone to the reception desk as Belinda had taken him straight up. The doctor had said simply: “Heart attack. Can’t see any evidence of anything else.” The shock of seeing his wife and two mistresses together had obviously been too much for him. One of the officers grunted something like “I’ve heard and seen worse occurrences in Soho” before letting the girls go home, with admonishments not to plan any trips abroad.

The coroner had agreed with the diagnosis, mercifully quickly, considering that Belinda was expected in Milan within a fortnight. He was rumoured to have recorded ‘Heart attack after misadventure’ relishing the story that was relayed to him from an unknown source which would ensure that he wouldn’t have to buy a round of beer in his local for quite a few months.

Therefore, the life insurance company didn’t have any excuses and moderately speedily, for them, handed over a rather large amount of cash to Lisa Buckley. As did the executors of Andrew’s Will.

Belinda waved away any offers, from her solicitor and Lisa, of a fair proportion of his assets. In her words: “One hour of my time corroborating the story: Four hundred and fifty pounds. The look on his face before he keeled over: Priceless. I‘ll be fine, honey, I‘ve got plenty of money of my own.” She would, of course, have a word with a few people in IT about mail encryption, and Lisa promised to destroy the papers in the vault, but insisted that Belinda play fair with the model.

“Absolutely, sweetheart, I’m turning over a new leaf, I‘m going to re-market her myself. The Luscious Lesbian.”

Two air kisses around the cheeks for Lisa, whilst they were outside the solicitor’s office after the reading, and she went back to her Ab Fab world.

Although Tasha had no real legal claim at all, Lisa still offered her a five figure sum of her choosing, by way of a thank you. Tasha, after all, had made sure that any evidence of Andrew being there longer than was viable for a sudden heart attack was removed; the ring back on her finger, a coffee cup washed up and put away: “You clean a lot of coffee cups in my business, but I have juniors to do that now.“ Tasha considered getting a new BMW from this, but demurred, saying that all wanted was Andrew’s Ungaro suits, which would look great on Brian as he was the same size, it may even gain him a promotion. Or at the very least, a job with another bank.

Lisa readily agreed, she had no use for them, take the whole wardrobe if you want, she said.

It seemed that Andrew had no other next of kin, or none that anyone knew about; he was an only child and both his parents were dead. So, the way was clear for Lisa to step into a brighter future. Was she really born a man? Nobody knew, nobody really cared, it was unlikely. But a friend of Lisa's said that she had told her Lisa had seen her boyfriend take some little pills when he thought she wasn't looking. Lisa said she swore that they were the same kind that her mother used to take to help blood circulation.

The moral of this story? If you're going to play the field, make sure the field is fair and never deal with more than two women at the same time.