Dancing With The Devil

Jack stood a stately 6’2” with a bit of a paunch and well-groomed, wavy, coarse gray hair. His demeanor defined confidence, even though he spoke with a slight lisp. An air of authority oozed from every pore.

“I am divorced with three kids who live with my ex-wife in their home state. We have a great relationship, and I support the kids financially.”

The office he was planning to furnish was a real estate venture. He had recruited twelve people who, although not selling real estate, were doing refinances on primary properties.

Based on meeting them, I had no reason to doubt he was the successful businessman he presented himself as.

Little did I know that he was the devil incarnate.

His wit and charm were almost mesmerizing. Even with his slight lisp, he spoke with such authority that people overlooked it.

After meeting the head of the organization and hearing about the earning potential, the excitement swept me up. I decided to leave my sales job and get a real estate license.

+++

Having gently eradicated my ex-boyfriend’s demanding presence from my life and put him firmly into the friend zone, I had not dated anyone since the summer of 1989. The frustration and anger were not what I missed. But I missed being in a relationship.

Still a bit unsteady in my freshly minted mindset, Jack swept me up with his warmth and charm as we began dating. I fell hard. It seemed like a dream come true after all I’d gone through with my last relationship and the intense months of therapy.

Friends warned me it was too soon to fall in love. But after my journey through the desert, it felt like I’d found an oasis, and I dove in. Heart before head.

+++

Right after I got my real estate license, he suggested we join a prestigious real estate concern in Newport Beach. He had a marketing plan all mapped out.

“We will use mailers to get new clients, and I can still manage the few agents I’ve recruited. You can set the appointments and process the loans while you learn the business.”

The new company we interviewed gladly gave us an office and a secretary based on Jack’s prior experience. Things were looking up, and life seemed filled with positive potential.

Money was tight, but I’d worked on a commission basis for years now and knew that if I did the work, money would follow. It was universal law, and I trusted it wholly.

Some months were flush, and some lean, so I knew how to save and stretch and make do.

We were starting a new business together and beginning to date. Just as 1991 dawned, he moved into my two-bedroom condo promising to pay the rent while we got the new business up and running.

Jack was renting a car since his car was in the storage unit up in Riverside, so I suggested we get it one weekend.

“I called Marilyn yesterday. She told me that someone had broken into the storage unit and stolen my car.

Although I felt sorry for his bad luck and the challenge of settling into the new office, bringing in new business was my primary focus. Money and the lack thereof were always on my mind.

+++

The first red flag hit the field almost immediately after he moved in. It very soon became clear that he was always short of cash. The promise to pay my rent quickly evaporated. With what seemed like true sincerity, he assured me it was only a temporary situation.

“Cathy, loans will be closing soon, and I’ll have the money to pay you. I promise. Just hang in there with me, it will all work out.”

After a couple of months, my nerves were frayed. It was like electricity snapping inside my chest, and I was often lightheaded. It passed so quickly that I paid little attention.

Having him move into my home was a huge decision for me. Speaking up for myself was a new muscle I was still learning to stretch. Thoughts of what to say whirled around in my brain like changing weather patterns, but getting them over my tongue and out of my mouth was still a challenge. Not wanting to appear confrontational, I finally screwed up the courage to make a firm inquiry about the money situation.

“Jack, I’m scared and upset about the money issue. Even though our new venture is doing well, I need the money you promised to pay my bills.”

He brushed it off and looked at me as if my inquiry were nothing more than a minor nuisance.

If I’d had half a brain left in my head, I would have left it. But I stayed. Not yet ready to accept the truth, I caved. My gut was screaming out loud, but I was deaf to it. Out of my depth and floundering to hold onto reality, the old me remained ever-hopeful that things would work out for the best while the warning whistles blared at full volume in the background. I was a deaf-mute, voiceless, unable to reach my deeper self.

+++

Over the next couple of weeks, his supposed business manager spoke to me on the phone two or three times and always explained away my concerns.

“Some of Jack’s assets are being sold, and money will follow within a few days.”

What else could I do but believe him?

My ego self would not allow me to accept that I had made a mistake and needed to shift gears immediately. Saving myself was a lesson I had not yet perfected. Giving everything until it hurts and then giving some more was burned into my psyche.

To Jack’s credit, our new loan business had taken off with a bang. With his wit and charm on full display, we began booking tons of loan applications, and he was a top salesman week after week.

About two months after we began living together, his business manager called with shocking news.

“Your best friend has embezzled one hundred thousand dollars from you.”

His eyes betrayed him. I saw a slight flash of irritation. But outwardly, he appeared only mildly concerned. He never lost his cool, always remaining calm. On the other hand, I was frantic and close to panic mode, but he shrugged it off and acted like he was taking it in stride.

He calmly instructed his business manager to manage the legal side.

“Just keep working on selling other assets to give me some ready cash.”

The pressure was mounting.

Seeing him so stressed only sucked me deeper into the emotional hole. Falling back into my old rescuer mode, I wanted to help him. Not a good place to be in a new relationship, especially when money is involved.

The new me and the old me were in a tug-of-war over how to manage my mounting dismay. Hang in there or cut bait and run? I was cooking slowly from the inside, slipping deeper into despair by the minute.

After we had twenty or so loans in process, with the good word of his business manager I co-signed a car loan for him.

Jack assured me that money was days away.

“I can assume the loan as soon as the cash arrives. It’s just for a couple of weeks.”

My frustration was on a slow simmer, not yet boiling but heading that way. He preened like a peacock on full display while I stood in the shadows, bristling with quiet discontent.

+++

At the new office early every day, I gave it my all, expecting success and commissions to follow just like they always did when I worked hard. When nothing closed, the old familiar sense of failure set in. As usual, the kid inside me assumed everything was my fault. I didn’t have it in me to blame Jack. That felt like I would be kicking a man while he was down. The loans were coming in, so I knew he was trying, but there was a growing sense of unease in my gut.

Something was wrong, I just couldn’t put my finger on it yet.

Everyone kept telling me how amazing he was. The Jack phenomenon sucked me in with everyone else. Like we were all infected by the same vampire parasite, it devoured our common sense and rendered us blind to the reality of the situation.

Since very few of the loans had closed and Jack’s business manager had not been able to liquidate assets yet, I borrowed money on credit to pay my bills.

Jack volunteered to sign a Promissory Note for the money he owed me for the clothes, cash, back rent, and the car loan. He continued to assure me that money would come in soon

The company was awarding him every week for all the new business, so it looked legit. Then I started to see an alarming trend. Almost all the loans had a problem; either the appraisal didn’t come in with enough equity, or the client’s credit was insufficient for the lender to approve them.

Alarm bells didn’t just ring—they howled.

Sleep was impossible. Worry permeated every thought. The constantly rotating series of what-ifs nearly drove me nuts. Like a hamster on crack, I went around and around and around getting nowhere.

Prayer was all I had to hold onto.

Every question I asked was met with defiance.

“Cathy, I am the one booking all the loans and training the associates. I am the one who secured the office in Newport. I assure you that the money is in the mail. Trust me. It will all work out.”

But the money did not show up. The next week, he showed me a letter from FedEx stating that an overnight envelope with a ten-thousand-dollar check was lost.

“The envelope with the check is missing, but it is being traced.”

Fed up with the excuses and delays, I threatened to call the corporate office of FedEx. I saw the terror flash in his eyes, but he maintained that ultra-cool exterior and looked me straight in the eye.

With a calm but shaky voice, he said, “Let me deal with it, Cathy. I swear I’m taking care of it. You are being overly dramatic. Just calm down.”

Usually uber cool as a cucumber under pressure, my growing defiance was more than he could tolerate. Not one to raise his voice, he expected everyone to believe every word he said as if it were gospel. He wore confidence like a bulletproof vest.

Barely able to sleep at night made it impossible to lie next to him while he slept like a baby. Fantasies of bludgeoning him briefly flashed through my mind, but luckily for him, I’m not a crazed lunatic.

He began sleeping in the other bedroom, which suited me. I would hear him up late watching TV after I’d gone to bed.

The financial stress soon got to be too much for my fragile psyche. I was having mild panic attacks and walking on eggshells just like I had as a kid when my stepfather acted crazy. Jack kept assuring me he wanted the relationship to work, but I was teetering on the very edge of losing all faith.

“Cathy, I want us to be together. Things will work out for us if you just keep trusting me.”

As usual, the powerful drug of denial surged into my veins, numbing my senses, clouding my judgment, and blurring my vision to reality.

Something was definitely wrong, but I couldn’t put a finger on it.

Worse still, I’d decided I didn’t want him to move out until I figured it out. Sun Tzu’s line, “Keep your friends close; keep your enemies closer,” became my mantra as I tried to unravel the unfolding tragedy.

No matter how bad it seemed to me, Jack didn’t waver in his insistence that it was all going to work out, and the men in our office only boosted his confidence. He was like a commander on the battlefield facing daunting odds, while telling his men all was well, as bullets rained down on them. And they were willing to stay and fight alongside him.

It was like they all drank weird Kool-Aid from the same water cooler. My concerns held no value. Like him, they saw me as a hysterical woman, and he was the giant slayer. They dismissed my voice as the storm gathered right in front of them.

I confronted him one night at home.

“My trust is sliding down the drain, Jack. Nothing you tell me happens, and very few loans have paid us one dime. Something is very wrong. Either we see a therapist together, or you need to move out immediately.”

“I swear I want this to work for us. If you think seeing a therapist will help, I’m all for it.”

Ever the jovial salesman, he waltzed into the therapist’s office like a man without a care in the world. She listened to my explanation of the mounting fear without comment.

When it was his turn to tell his side, he brushed my fears and confusion off as inconsequential. With his usual laissez-faire attitude, he told her the same story he’d been telling me for months.

“Cathy is making too much of it. There is nothing to worry about. I’m managing it, and she needs to be patient.”

She listened quietly to both sides of the story and took notes.

“Cathy, let me review what I’ve heard here today. Give me a call in a couple of days.”

Jack walked out of the office, head held high, acting as if he’d just given an Academy Award performance. And he had.

When I called her back, she was reticent to speak.

After a long pause, she said, “Cathy, Jack is a classic sociopath.”

I was unfamiliar with the term.

“What exactly does that mean, Annette?”

“Once a sociopath says something, to them, it is totally real, even if it is a lie or total fabrication. They will believe it is the truth until the day they die.”

Stuttering with confusion, I asked, “Is this something that can be worked out with therapy?”

Another long pause.

“Probably not. Sociopathy is the hardest, if not impossible, psychological condition to try to heal. Most sociopaths will never admit they have a problem. To them, it’s everyone else’s problem, not theirs. They are very self-centered, show no regard for right or wrong, and ignore others’ feelings. He’s a textbook example.”

“Oh shit!”

I laid my head down on my desk before it exploded and spewed my brain onto the ceiling. The slew of questions flooded over me like a tidal wave.

Gathering my wits, I murmured through gathering tears, I asked, “How could I not know?”

“Cathy, no one would have known. This guy is a total pro. Don’t beat yourself up. “I suggest you protect yourself financially if it’s not too late.”

But I was too late, I couldn’t help but beat myself up. I had trusted another untrustworthy man. I’d loaned him seventy-five thousand dollars. Would I ever see that money?

No matter what my therapist said, I was awash in self-loathing. Squirrels were racing around in my brain, wreaking havoc. Every mistake I had ever made was bubbling up from a hidden well and drowning me in remorse and shame. What in the hell is wrong with me? How can I be so stupid? On and on and on, the old familiar loop played repeatedly in my head. Sheer agony.

Pull yourself together, Cathy. The voice of reason?

The voice convinced me that it was an all-out war from here on.

No more Mr. Nice Guy.

I traced the number his business manager had called from, and it was no longer in service.

The next day, I went back to see our office manager.

“Mike, something is wrong. Jack owes me thousands of dollars. I’ve borrowed a large sum of money to stay afloat. I’m getting him out of my house tonight.”

Shaking his head from side to side, he smirked at me.

“Cathy, you are acting like the woman scorned. Jack is the top salesman every month and is doing a terrific job here.”

Jack came home to find I had packed his belongings into a cardboard box. I took the car keys for the truck I’d co-signed on and dropped him off in a nameless dark alley in Santa Ana.

Filing a formal police report didn’t help me. Since he had signed a Promissory Note, it was deemed a civil suit. I’d have to sue him individually.

The police had an open file for him and wanted to know where they might find him.

“This man has stolen someone else’s driver’s license and credit cards. He was trying to use them to buy office furniture. Do you know where he is now?”

“No, I dropped him off in the middle of the street in Santa Ana a few weeks ago. But I can tell you where we were working.”

Growing into adulthood, I had always assumed that if I were a good person, others would act the same towards me. I just didn’t have the kind of brain that thought about ripping people off or taking advantage of them.

He was a different type of animal. A predator who stalked his prey, sussed out their weak spots, toyed with them, and then watched them slowly bleed to death. It was crazy-making behavior that confused people and made them second-guess themselves. I had become the queen of second-guessing by the time it was over with him.

Jack had kicked the optimism right out of me.