You sit on top of the world one minute and the next ...

Your life boils down to a signature on a legal document.

A signature that, in a few seconds, gives someone else the rights to all you are.

A document that changes you life forever.

A document that takes you from your Ivory Tower and deposits you in a carpet stained, dirty curtained, shit hole of a motel room, with rats crawling through the walls and spiders sharing your shower.

The sound of trains keeping you awake half the night and the sounds of hookers fighting with their johns keeping you awake the other half.

A fucking legal document that says my 20 year marriage is over.

And my, x-wife, gets everything.

And the shit about that?

She was the one who cheated.

But I guess she was smarter than me.

She got a man hating, lesbian lawyer and then fucked my lawyer.

She worked both sides of the table and left me in the middle with my finger up my ass.

So while she sips expensive red wine out of my expensive imported German crystal, I sit on this stinking bed drinking no name beer, from a can.

But looks can be deceiving.

She may have taken everything that she knew of, in the divorce, but she did not take everything.

I looked at the safety deposit key in my hand.

I slipped it into my jeans pocket.

I had to laugh.

"You act like a child sometimes, collecting those old sports cards and comics.

What good will ever come of them."

I could still hear her voice, echoing in my head.

On and on she constantly bitched at me.

So.

I got rid of them.

To a safety deposit box.

Those childish sports cards and comics were worth a small fortune.

I opened another cheap beer.

I raised it high.

"To you, you stupid slut."

Tomorrow, I would put my plan in motion and there was not a fucking thing she could do about it.

We were signed off and she got everything, including the house, cars, bank accounts and a portion of my yearly salary.

But the shit of it was, tomorrow I was quitting my job, as the co-CEO of a major software company. So that 7 figure salary was out the window and she had nothing to draw from.

I had signed over all my rights to the company to my partner of 25 years and in return, he had set me up with a wonderful little place in the Rocky Mountains, in his name and access to a bank account ...

again, in his name.

He was the one man, my bitch wife could not get to.

Because he was gay. And we had been friends since we were children.

He was more a brother to me, than even my own brother was.

And I loved and trusted the man.

And the fucking kicker in all of this.

My partner's husband is a collector and he is going to buy the entire contents of my safety deposit box.

"Fuck you Susan," I laughed.

"Enjoy it while you can."

I had no doubt she would find someone else to blow and maintain some semblance of the lifestyle I had given her.

It was not as if I had not known of her infidelities. She wasn't exactly discreet.

But in all honesty, I really didn't give a shit.

I had my work, my collections and now ...

my freedom.

I looked around the dirty, smelly room, with horrible television reception and the ever present flashing police lights, shining through my window.

Just one more night.

I walked to the window and looked down at the van in the parking lot.

A private eye that my x-wife had hired.

He was supposed to get some dirt on me, to find out if I had any secret stashes anywhere.

I looked at my watch.

11:55 pm.

"Five more minutes you fucking asshole."

Just five more minutes and there was nothing my slut of an x-wife could do. the divorce was final and we were done.

The van's back lights came on.

"I guess you can't wait," I snickered, as the van drove away.

The headlights flickered on and off and he was gone.

Jake was actually a good guy and the $50 thousand dollars that my partner, Michael, had paid him was an assurance, that even if he saw something, which he didn't, he would never say anything.

I looked at the clock on the dirty bedside table.

12:00 midnight.

A cab pulled up in front of my room.

I dropped the half full beer on the floor and looked around.

I raised both middle fingers on my hands.

"Fuck you."

Two months.

Two fucking months, I had to stay in a rat infested, shit hole.

"Goodbye, misery."

I opened the door and walked out to the cab.

The driver opened his door and walked up to me.

"Mr. Temple?"

I nodded.

He smiled.

"I believe they have a room for you at the Hilton."

I nodded.

"I believe they do."

He opened the door for me.

There were several bags in the back seat.

"Your parcels, as you instructed."

"Thank you."

I opened one of the bags.

There was a wallet there, stuffed with bills.

Good old Michael.

I pulled a $50 and passed it to the driver.

"Get me the fuck out of here."

"Of course, Sir."

He closed the door.

A minute later, we were on the main road, driving toward the Hilton.

I could not wait to get out of the clothes I was wearing, throw them in the garbage, take a hot shower and go to the lounge for a nightcap before bed.

What the fuck.

Maybe even buy myself some expensive ass.

Would beat the action I had been getting lately.