When Peter got home, he discovered that the rest of his family hadn't returned and none of the guys seemed to notice that the Monkeemobile had been missing at all.
'Good,' he thought. Now he wouldn't have to explain where he'd been.
By the time Nicole and the kids returned fifteen minutes later, he'd changed into a clean shirt and managed to convince himself that Kimberly had been bluffing. So when Nicole entered the house, she didn't suspect a thing.
"Hey, Dad," Thomas said, bouncing in the door carrying his book. Peter sighed. Apparently he hadn't calmed down. Joanne followed him a second later.
"Hey, Peter, wanna give me a hand?" came a voice from the door way. Peter gulped. Now was the test. Could he act casual enough in front of his wife so that she wouldn't suspect anything wrong?
He turned and saw Nicole carrying a huge pile of clothes. There were a lot, and she was dangerously close to dropping them.
"Don't take another step," he commanded, and rushed over to help, taking the clothes out of her arms. It was the least he could do, he thought.
"Easy Pete, you don't have to take it all. You'll drop it. I can take half," Nicole said, laughing slightly.
"NO," he said, a little too sharply, and her eyes widened. Peter wasn't still mad at her, was he? "Sorry. I mean, no, that's okay. I'll take it all, don't worry about it."
"Um, okay, Pete, whatever," she agreed.
Peter managed to take the clothes upstairs without dropping them, and then came back down stairs.
"Hey, hun, can I talk to you?" he asked.
Nicole had her head buried in the refrigerator. "What do you think about going out tonight for dinner?" she asked. "I forgot to thaw out that piece of chicken I wanted to cook up."
"NO!" Peter said, again a little to sharply. "I mean, no, I'd much rather stay at home and enjoy something that you cooked. Unless of course you don't want to cook..I could cook. Or you could go out with the kids. I think maybe I should stay here. You could bring me a doggie bag," he rambled.
"Take it easy, Pete," Nicole chuckled. "You're starting to get as hyper as Thomas. Must be somethin' goin' around. I'll just heat up some soup."
He sighed with relief. "Okay, soup. Yeah, that's fine."
She took a can out of the cabinet and started to heat it up.
"Can I talk to you about something?" he asked again, since she hadn't heard him before.
"Sure. What is it?" she asked.
Just then Thomas ran into the room. "Hey Mom, what's for dinner?" he asked. "Soup? Aw, man."
"What, it's chicken noodle. Your favorite."
"I know, but I wanted shish kabobs tonight."
Nicole looked at Peter and then at Thomas. "Shish kabobs?" she repeated.
"Yeah, I was having a craving for shish kabobs," he said.
"Oh, um, well, sorry, hun. Tonight we're having soup," Nicole said, chuckling slightly.
"Okay, I guess I'll live," Thomas sighed, and ran back into the room.
"Thomas, slow down, please. You'll trip and kill yourself," she called out after him. She sighed. "I wonder why he's gotten so hyper all of the sudden?"
Peter shrugged. "I don't know," he replied. "Wish I did. Can I ask you a question?"
"Sure," Nicole replied.
"What would you do if...," he began. Just then the phone rang. Peter gulped. His mind began to race. What if Kimberly hadn't been bluffing? What if that was the cops calling now?
"Hello?" he heard Nicole answer, and he crossed his fingers behind his back. "Oh, hi June," she said, and he sighed with relief. June was one of Nicole's friends. Unfortunately, she'd probably be on the phone for an hour or so. He sighed. He'd hoped to warn her before he got carted off to certain doom, but apparently he wouldn't get the chance. He sighed again and headed into the living room.
"How do you like that?" he asked aloud, talking to no one in particular. "My last meal as a free man is chicken soup out of a can." He sighed and sat down on the couch.
Nicole was tired that night and went to bed early. Peter sat down in the bed next to her but didn't make any move to lay down. He seemed to be listening.
"Hey Peter? What was it you wanted to talk to me about?" she asked, remembering.
"Oh, nothing. You'll see soon enough."
"What's that mean?"
He just shrugged. She moved to turn the light off.
"Nicole?" he asked, and she stopped.
"Yes Peter?"
"I'm sorry about before. I trust you, really I do."
"I know, Pete," she replied.
"And I love you more than anything."
"I know. And I love you more than anything."
He looked at his hands.
"And...and I'll understand if you don't stick by me."
"What?" she asked.
He didn't respond. She'd heard him, she was just not understanding.
"Peter, I'll stick by you," she said. "Forever."
"I know. But the worst is yet to come. " He kissed her on the forehead. "I'll warn you in advance, I'm sorry."
"Peter..what on earth? What are you sorry for?"
"You'll see soon enough," he said.
"No. I'm not accepting that. Explain this to me."
Just then there was a knock on the door. He got up to answer it, and she saw that he hadn't taken off his clothes. She grabbed his arm. "Come back here."
"I can't. They're here for me."
He left the room. "They? They who? Peter!" Nicole called, and followed him out of the room and down the stairs.
He was opening the door. Outside of the door stood a pair of policemen. She ran and stood next to him. What was going on?
"Is this 1336 Beechwood?" the cop was asking. Peter nodded. "I'm the one you want," he added, before that question began.
"What's the matter?" Nicole asked. Peter looked down at her.
"I told you, didn't I?" he said.
"What did you do?" Peter didn't answer. He couldn't face up to her. "What did he do?" she asked the policeman.
"He's under arrest for raping a woman," he replied, and Peter shut his eyes, cringing.
"For what?" she asked. "Peter what on earth?"
"I'm sorry ma'am, we have to take him downtown. You're welcome to follow and everything will be explained. "
"You don't understand. Peter wouldn't do that."
Peter exchanged glances with the policeman. "Hun, please. Don't make a scene. Please," he asked, his eyes pleading.
"Peter what's going on?" she asked for the fiftieth time. The policeman handcuffed Peter and took him out of the house.
"I'm sorry," Peter said. "I really am." She just stared as the car drove off.
"This is a dream. This has to be a dream," she kept telling herself.
Nicole ran into the house and put some clothes on. Then she ran to the Pad and banged on the door loudly. After a few minutes Davy opened the door, sleepy-eyed.
"Davy, go over and watch the kids, okay? I have to go downtown."
"Downtown? What for?" he asked. "Where's Petah?"
"I'll explain when I get back. I need to help him," she said. "He's been arrested."
That brought Davy awake. "He's been what?"
"Just watch the kids, okay. I'll be back eventually." With that she ran to the car and sped to the police station.
When she got there, she ran straight for the front desk and demanded an explanation. The sergeant at the desk directed her to the lieutenant in charge of the case, a Lt. Smith.
"You see, ma'am, a woman living in the area claimed that your husband offered to do a good deed and drive her home from the beach after the volleyball tournament. But in the car he started to come on to her. And when they reached her home, he invited himself in and raped her. "
"No," Nicole insisted. "Peter wouldn't do that. I know my husband. You must have him confused with someone else. "
"Ma'am, you saw him. He practically confessed to the crime. I'm sorry, but he has to be given due process."
She sighed. "Can I see him? Where is he?"
The lieutenant nodded and led her down the hall to a room with a row of cells. "He's in here," he said.
"Thanks. I'll find him." He nodded.
"Just knock on this door when you want out, okay?" She nodded.
The room was dim and damp. She walked slowly down the hall. "Peter?" she whispered. She was afraid to talk too loud.
"Down here," Peter's voice came from further down the hall. She reached the cell and looked in. He sat on the bed on the opposite wall, and looked at her.
She looked back. Now that she saw him, she wasn't sure what to say. She couldn't. A lump had been forming in her throat, and she couldn't stop the tears.
Peter was at her side in seconds. The bars prevented him from holding her, but he was there, and close as he could be.
When the tears had stopped flowing and there was no more, she looked back up at him.
"What happened?" she asked.
He looked at the floor. "Long story?" he said, questioningly, knowing she wouldn't let him get off without an explanation. Not for something this big.
She didn't even dignify that with a response. He sighed. Then slowly, he explained the whole story. Everything from the volleyball tournament to going to Kimberly's to the decision he'd been forced to make.
He couldn't look at her while he was telling it, but when he'd finished, he looked in her eyes. If she didn't believe him, he knew his chances were very slim that a jury would.
"Well?" he asked, afraid of the response.
"I told you I'd stand by you, Peter. I will. And if the story's true, I admire you."
"Admire?" he asked. "Why? Because I let myself be conned by a pretty face and a seductive voice. Because I'm just as much a slave to women as any other man on this planet? I see nothing to admire."
"I do."
"What?" he asked skeptically.
"You thought of me, Peter. You did a good deed and were rewarded with punishment. You refused to give in to her. And you did it for me. It's the sweetest thing you've ever done," she answered him.
He looked at her. "Does this mean you believe me?" he asked.
She grinned. "I'd kiss you if you weren't in there," she said, and he smiled back; the first smile in a few hours.
"But that brings us to our problem," he said, gesturing to the cell he was in.
"Well, I could bend the bars," Nicole joked, flexing her arms. He smiled and rolled his eyes.
"No, I mean legally. I need a lawyer. "
"Well, you can get one from the court," she said.
"No need for that sorta talk, ma'am," a voice came from down the hallway. The lighting was so dim she couldn't see who it was.
Out of the darkness stepped a tall figure, wearing a hat. The figure removed the hat and bowed.
"Mike Nesmith at your service," the figure replied, replacing the hat- a green knit wool cap-on its head.
