Well, What Would You Do?

Frank crumbled the bank statement into his fist and proceeded to slam bot

h down on the counter, rattling dishes, and sending both cats scurrying into the hallway.

"Nineteen-thousand dollars! How do they think we are going to come up with nineteen thousands dollars by the end of this month?", he yelled, more to himself than his terrified wife.

His wife, Samantha, put her hand over his and waited for him to calm down just enough for her to take the statement and read the words for herself. He wasn't exaggerating. They had just over three weeks to get the bank that balloon payment or they would lose everything.

"There has to be something we can do", she said, nearly whispering. "What if we called and...."

Frank interrupted, "Called? You don't think I've been calling? I've been practically begging them. We need nineteen grand and we don't have it...or have a way to get it."

"There has to be a way", said Sam. "We can't lose this. We've worked so hard. We've given up everything, including any kind of social life"

"Well", he shot back, "unless you want to rob a bank or suck..."

"Don't be an ass", fumed Samantha. "You're a smart guy. Think"

Frank couldn't think. He needed air, and a stiff drink. He went to his shop behind the garage to kill two birds with one stone. As he opened the cabinet door under his workbench and reached for his bottle of bourbon, he saw it. It had been sitting there for seven years now. Frank saw it every time he went for his "secret" stash of booze but by now, he didn't even notice it anymore. Tonight he did more than notice it...he picked it up.

What "it" was, was a small USB flash drive. It was actually Sam who had found it. The newlyweds had been staying at a Bed and Breakfast in Rhode Island and Samantha had dropped her cell phone down behind the cushions of the love seat. Reaching down in the abyss of lost coins, crumbs, and candy wrappers, she found the flash drive. She also felt something that she believed for a split second was her phone but was, instead, a little black notebook. She pulled the items out and looked at them. Then she giggled a little and thought about how she'd only ever seen anyone actually have one of these in a movie or television show. "Fonzie's little black book", she whispered and giggled some more. She reached in once more and found her phone and proceeded to find Frank to show him her discoveries.

Frank placed the flash drive on the bench. Then he bent down and peered into the back of the cabinet. Yep. There it was as well...the little black notebook. He then poured a rather large glass of the amber elixir, taking a large swig straight from the bottle before returning it to its dusty shelf.

Frank knew what was on the drive. They both did. It was unfortunate enough for the owner of the drive that they had left it behind, but to leave the notebook with all that information was really careless. The flash drive had a little three-number combination lock built into it. Anyone with enough patience could have probably figured out the combination in less than hour. With the notebook, it took two minutes.

The notebook had the owner's name. It had their address. It had the name of man, along with the man's phone number. It had a few pages of writing that meant nothing to a stranger. It also had the combination. Armed with the combination, Frank and Sam opened the flash drive, sat down side by side on that love seat, and inserted the drive into Sam's laptop.

Immediately, pictures began to load. Thumbnails, as they are known. Some were harmless selfies from a time before the word "selfie" existed. Many others were not so harmless. Some were downright explicit. All the pictures were of the same woman. She was a semi-attractive blonde woman, looking to be in her late 30s, early 40s, and she seemed to have a fondness for showing off her naughtier bits. In two of the pictures she was doing more than showing, she was playing, aided by a soft rubber "friend".

And there was more. There were letters. Typed letters written from a man to a woman. Most likely the woman in the racy photos. Though Frank would have liked to study the pictures more, Sam took control of the laptop and began reading the letters. She read the first couple out loud until Frank lost interest, and then read the rest to herself. There were a lot of them. From the letters, she was able to piece together a story, one she shared with Frank.

A couple. Stacey and Rob, must have stayed at the B&B sometime before Frank and Sam. There were both married...but not to each other. The pictures were little gifts from Stacey to Rob. She had been sending them to him but was also foolish enough to save them, along with the letters he wrote. The gist of the story was that Stacey and Rob were having a full blown affair and the two had met at the B&B, among other places, to carry out the adulteress romance. Frank and Sam had a good laugh and joked about what a great blackmail opportunity this was. Then Frank looked at the pictures a few more times and that was the end of it. Sam thought Frank had thrown the drive and its companion notebook away. Instead, he kept it out in the workshop with his bourbon and his stash of porn magazines, the ones that pre-dated internet porn.

They say desperate times call for desperate actions. "What would Stacey pay to have this back?", he mused as the bourbon began to work. It's been seven years. Has she spent those years out of her mind about who, if anyone, found her secrets? Would she care? Was she still married? Was he? Could he pull off a blackmail scheme without winding up in jail himself? It was time to find out.

Frank carried the bourbon into the house, along with the drive and the notebook and went right to his study. Sam saw him go in there with the bottle and without noticing the other two items, decided to let Frank get drunk and pass out without her.

Frank was getting drunk alright. He was not, however, going to be passing out any time soon. He had a mission. First things first, he created a fake Facebook profile. No profile picture. No "about" info. No likes. No friends. It was still very risky. Little miss Stacey might not ever figure out who he was, but if she called the police, they would not have much trouble tracking him down. Frank had no idea how IPs worked, but he knew that law enforcement did. Desperation mixed with alcohol makes people not care about little details like that.

Armed with a fake profile, he began looking for Stacey on the site. It wasn't easy. He had her first and last name. Trouble is, so did about 50 other women. He knew what she looked like but was surprised to see just how many people do not use a picture of themselves as a profile picture. Frank was not a Facebook expert, but he was a good snoop. He was able to plug in some other known things about Stacey, such as her hometown and a place that he knew for sure she had visited, and he had himself a bingo. He did a little more snooping before sending his message. Turns out, she was still married. That would work in Frank's favor, he thought. As he went through her pictures, he found that she had a few likes from her special friend. And some were quite recent. Another cha-ching for Frank. There was a very good chance that they were still involved. Adultery and sexy selfies. Frank had the goods. Now to use them...

He sent Stacey the following message:

I found something of interest seven years ago in RI. I think you'd find it interesting as well. I want to make sure it is returned to you to avoid any embarrassment on your part. This is a very delicate situation and will require very special packaging. I'm thinking $20,000 should cover my time, packaging, and postage. What do you think?

Frank waited for a response. As he waited, he continued to play barkeep to himself. After an hour, he was about to give up when he heard the notification. She had messaged him back.

"Who is this? Where did you find "it"?

Frank was pondering his next response when the door to his study flew open. A very excited Samantha yelled, "my dad is going to loan us the money!! All of it! Twenty-thousand! And we have five years to pay him back!" She waited for Frank's response but Frank just stared at her like she was from outer space.

"Didn't you hear me?", she asked, still short of breath and highly agitated.

Frank snapped out of it and said, "I heard ya. That's awesome... I guess?"

He then closed the laptop. Tomorrow he would throw out the flash drive and the notebook for good.