Heartbreaker
Heartbreaker Kimberly L. Corum
Reberberator Books
Heartbreaker. Copyright © 2011 by Kimberly L. Corum. This edition published by Reverberator Books, an imprint of Artrum Media. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written. For information, email
[email protected]. eBook ISBN–13: 978-0-9837050-2-4 eBook ISBN–10: 0-9837050-2-X First published by New Tradition Books in 2003.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.
For the Heartbroken
Use at Your Own Discretion I was sitting in my favorite diner staring out the window and wondering what I was going to do with the rest of my life when they sat down. There were two of them. And they were both blonde. “Do you mind if we sit here?” one of them asked. I stared at them. Well, they were already seated. Not much I could do about it. “Uh, no, I don’t suppose,” I said and straightened up. The other one leaned forward and stared at me, her eyes as big as saucers. “It’s really you, isn’t it?” “It’s really me,” I replied dryly. She really looked happy, like she’d made the discovery of a lifetime. Kinda like I was an artifact of some sort. “I told you!” she squealed and slapped the other one’s arm, then held her hand out to me. “I’m Ally and this is Nicki.” I shook their hands and then sipped my sweet tea. “We’ve heard about you for years,” Ally said and smiled. “We’ve always admired what you’ve done.” “And what is it that you think I’ve done?” I asked. The glanced at each other. “You’re a ballbreaker,” she whispered. “Not anymore.” “Oh, don’t say that!” Nicki exclaimed. “This guy was twotiming us. We didn’t even know each other!”
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The bastard! “Yeah, one day he screwed up and we met each other at his apartment.” “And we got into a fight!” “Yeah, but then, we started talking,” Ally said. “And we decided to find you.” “Yeah,” Nicki said, nodding her head so much her ponytail bobbed. “I’m out of business,” I told them and blew out a stream of smoke. “Sorry.” They looked disappointed. “Ah, come on!” they whined simultaneously. I stared at them. Then I got an idea. Why not hand the legacy over? There were still plenty of women out there being screwed over for no good reason. These girls looked like they had it on the ball, too. They could do some major damage. This might just work. “Look,” I began. “I’ve just been through some major crap and I won’t help you, but I will teach you how to fish.” “Huh?” they asked then glanced at each other. I rolled my eyes. “Give a man a fish and he eats for one day, teach him to fish and he eats for a lifetime?” “Oh! Right!” Ally squealed. “This won’t be easy. There are rules to follow and if you don’t follow them to the letter, then you’ll end up like me.” “What happened to you?” Nicki asked. I took a deep breath and said, “I fell in love with one of my dicks.” “Oh, no!” Ally squealed. “Oh, yes,” I replied. “So, you’re gonna teach us how to be heartbreakers?” Nicki asked. 2
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“Something like that,” I said. “I’ll start at the beginning, then I’ll lead up to recent events.” They both put their heads in their hands and their elbows on the table ready to learn the lesson of a lifetime. I was going to tell them everything, down to last nitty gritty detail. It was going to take a while, but they seemed interested, more or less. And I had the time. “Okay,” I said. “This is how it started. I was getting ready to take a little vacation after I finished with Anne.” “Anne?” Ally asked. “She was my next to last real client.” “Oh,” she replied. “Continue.” “So, anyway, she started out by telling me—” “But how did you meet Anne?” “Uh, I’ll get to all that. Later.” I stopped and thought about all the stuff I had to tell them. This was going to take forever. Maybe I should just write a manual.
Heartbreaking 101 A User’s guide by Tina Louise I grinned. Yeah, that would be cool. But I would have to add this caveat: Use at your own discretion. “Go on,” Ally said. I smiled and took a breath. Then I got started.
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TCB (Taking Care of Business) Men suck. We all know that. “You know how it is,” she began. “You meet a boy, the one you’ve been waiting for your whole life. You fall in love.” The young woman looked out the window, hesitating before she spoke, as if she were half-ashamed of what she was about to say and half-glad she was able to. It was taking an enormous amount of effort on her part. She continued, “Everything’s perfect. You decide to get married and you begin to plan for your future together, how nice it’s all going to be. Everything’s going good…great! No complications whatsoever.” The client: Anne. Age: 32. Profession: PR exec. Hobbies: Gardening and reading. Goal: To see said fiancée suffer. How she found out about me: Referral. I stared at her. She was a beautiful girl, very sophisticated and chic. She looked like she just stepped out of some magazine layout. I sometimes wondered how chicks like her got involved with these jerks in the first place. Temporary insanity, perhaps? Maybe. “And I settled for him!” she nearly screamed. “I settled! I didn’t even like him at first! He chased me!” She chewed on the end of her straw and glared out the window as if the heavy downtown Atlanta traffic was aggravating the shit right out of her. She seemed to ask herself, Where the hell are they
all going?! 4
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I said, “Go on.” She jumped a little, as if she’d forgotten I was there. She took a deep breath, crossed her arms and went on, “Then he decides he isn’t ready. I mean, the fucking wedding cake is in the oven! It’s
baking!” O-U-C-H! She regained what she had left of her composure. “He decides I’m just not right for him. He’s too young to get married, he hasn’t seen the world, he hasn’t sown his wild oats, what-ever-the-hell that means.” She glowered out the window. She liked doing that— glowering. People in her position typically do. They’re usually surly, too. All their hopes and dreams have just gone down the tube. They’ve been betrayed, lied to, spat upon. They’ve been hurt. They just don’t know what to do or who to turn to. That’s where I come in. “I want to see him in pain. I want his heart to break like mine is breaking. I want him down on his hands and knees, crying like a baby, the sorry sack of shit!” She finally turned to me. “Can you help me?” Could I help her? Was she kidding? First, maybe I should introduce myself and explain why I’m sitting in a diner talking to this heartbroken young woman. I mean, this chick and I have just met. My name is Tina Louise. You already know that. Don’t ask for my last name cause I won’t give it to you. I’m in my early thirties and people have told me I remind them of Catherine Deneuve, circa Belle De Jour. I dye my hair blond cause, for some reason, it’s easier to attract men that way. Blonde=Dumb maybe? That might be what they think. I know that when men see me they think, sex. I also know that when women see me they think, bitch. 5
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But that can’t be helped, can it? I am very serious about my work. And I have good reason. I not only help these women gain closure or whatever you want to call it, I help exact revenge. And once I do that, the guy’s gonna be smarting for a while, which means the next chick he dates won’t suffer nearly as much as the one he just dumped. I deal in the deliberate breakage of hearts. I am a heartbreaker. Literally, I take action against the injustice inflicted on women by men through the means of heartbreaking. And, yes, I do pay taxes—a lot of taxes. I list my job title as “Relationship Consultant,” though I have been referred to as a “Relationship Mercenary.” And when I do a job, I do it right. I come on like gangbusters. Back to Anne. I asked her, “How would it make you feel to get this done?” For the first time all day, or, perhaps, since the wedding cake incident, she smiled. “It would make me feel pretty damn good.” “You know I’m expensive.” “Put it this way, I got two kidneys, but I only need one. That’s how bad I want this done.” “I understand,” I said. She was getting agitated again. She spoke through gritted teeth, “I want to see him suffer, Tina. I want him to writhe in pain. I want his heart to ache and his eyeballs to bleed and his…his dick to fall off and his… I don’t know!” His dick to fall off? That was a new one. I smiled at her. At that moment, she was clenching a glass of water so tightly that it shook and spilled all over the table. “I think I get the picture,” I said and took the glass out of her hand. “Did you bring the dossier?”
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She slid a big brown envelope over to me which contained the dick’s portfolio, i.e. information and a picture of the “man” in question. The son of a bitch was even smiling in it. The dick: Tony Holmes. Age: 32. Profession: Police officer. Hobbies: None listed. Kinks: Armpit fetish. General weirdness: Is known to pick nose without tissue, thinks
cubic zirconia is just as good as “the real thing,” always answers phone while engaging in sexual activity. Et cetera. Favorite band: Def Lepard. Favorite movie: Dog Day Afternoon. Crime: Backed out of wedding a day before ceremony. Punishment: Bring him to his knees and kick him when he’s down. The plan: Find him, hook him, destroy him. Estimated time limit: Three weeks. She studied me, my reaction to him, and asked, “What do you think?” There was no other way to describe it. I looked her dead in the eye and said, “Piece of cake.” If I could have set a song to it, it would have been Tainted Love, the Soft Cell version. Where did our love go?
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Simple Science There is a science to it, albeit, a simple one. I’ll break it down for you so we can get a clear idea of what we’re doing, including our objectives and our goals. Let me begin by saying always make them pay for everything—dinner, theatre tickets, what-have-you. Any man who is too cheap to buy dinner for a woman should never find himself in the company of one. And if they don’t hold the door for you, feel free to jump their asses about it. That ain’t right. His mama should have taught him better. Enough said. Here’s the skinny.
Practice Makes Perfect What do we learn first? Get their attention. This dude, Tony, was a cop who rode around on a little motorcycle. I already knew from his portfolio that he patrolled a certain area of town at a certain time. Finding him wasn’t difficult. I spotted him almost immediately and followed him for a little while in my car until he stopped at a red light. Here goes nothing. My car was a black ’67 GTO convertible. Yeah, I know. The car’s a man magnet. They loved it. I loved it. It kicked ass. If they could resist me, which was almost impossible, they usually couldn’t resist my car and the combination of both of us was almost deadly. So it’s not surprising that Tony looked over at it and at me, sitting there looking at him. I gave him a wink, which caught him off guard. He grinned to himself before turning back to the light. 8
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What a sucker. Just before the light turned green, I floored it and ran straight through. He was hot on my ass and turned on his siren. I let him “chase” me for about four blocks then pulled over. Remember, you have to get their attention. Going to extremes in cases like this is okay. Just be careful. My cell phone rang just as my car came to a stop. I stared at it. Should I pick up? What if it was an emergency? But I was kinda busy… It rang again. I picked up hurriedly. “Hello?” “Hey!” Charlene, my best friend said. “What’cha doing?” “Charlene, I’m in the middle of something right now!” “Shitfire! Don’t get so bitchy about it.” And there he was, tapping on my window, ready to read me my rights. I rolled it down and gave him a dazzling smile. “Can you hold on for a sec?” I said to him then hissed, “Charlene, I have to go!” “Well, listen, I need to know where the Cap’n Crunch is.” Maybe I should give you a little background on Charlene. She’s been my best friend forever. She’s also during that time managed to get me into a lot of trouble. She, too, could be a professional heartbreaker, yet she doesn’t have the discipline. And she really despises men for the most part. Not because someone hurt her once, though she has been hurt, but because she doesn’t have the patience to put up with their shit. I love her, I really do, but she’s always getting me into situations that are at once sticky and embarrassing. Case in point: A few years ago, she insisted we attend a Rainbow Gathering, which was mainly composed of hippies/hippie wannabes. We arrived together, then she took off and I spent all my time looking for her, wondering if she’d been abducted or something. For two days! In the meanwhile, some guy slipped 9
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something—who knows what—in my drink and I disappeared for two days! I don’t know where the hell I went or what I did. I finally came to and found myself weeping under a tree. She waltzed up and said to me, “You ready to go yet?” Tony cleared his throat. I held up one finger for him to wait and whispered, “I don’t have any Cap’n Crunch!” “Well, stop by and get some on your way home, will ya?” she asked pleasantly. “Yeah, whatever,” I said and hung up hurriedly, then turned to Tony and gave him a big smile. “Is there a problem, officer?” He nearly smiled back. He caught himself just in time. “Yeah, you could say that.” I leaned out of the window so he could get a little peek at my cleavage. (At any opportunity, show a little cleavage. I think you know why.) “Truth is I wanted to get your attention.” I giggled, reached into my purse and pulled out a fake business card. “Why don’t you give me a call?” Then I winked, put the car in gear and pulled out, leaving him flabbergasted. ♥♥♥♥♥ What do we learn next? Once you’ve got their attention, you can’t let them know you’re the least bit interested. You can’t! This is vital! If they think you want them, they’re going to be in control from here on out and then… Well, you don’t get paid. A day later, I got a call from Tony. Yeah, a day later. He wasn’t about to let me get away, was he? “Hello?” I said. 10
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“Hey, is this Maggie?” By the way, always use a code name and never give them your address. Meet them in public places or go to their pads once you’ve established trust. If they insist on an address, give them a post office box number, but expect a lot of “love” notes and other crap you will later have to destroy. After you’ve finished with them, change your phone number and always keep it unlisted. I, personally, have two lines—one business/personal line and one dick line. The dick line is the one that gets changed. That goes without saying. “Yes, this is Maggie,” I said. “Who’s this?” “It’s…uh…Tony.” Uh…uh…uh. He sounded like a blubbering idiot. I rolled my eyes, then pretended not to know who he was. “Yes? What’s this all about? Who is this?” “I’m the cop who pulled you over,” he managed to blurt. “Am I in trouble for something?” I teased, switching gears on him. “Oh, no! You…uh…you gave me your number.” “I did?” I asked. “Yeah.” “Oh! I forgot about that.” He seemed to relax and nervously chuckled. “So, umm, listen, I was thinking about asking you on a date.” “You were?” I asked in mock astonishment. “Well, let me think about for a while, then.” And I hung up. Yes, I did. It’s really quite simple. You grab their attention and this will keep you on their minds. I can guarantee you that Tony was really pissed off about me hanging up on him. (They always are.) But he was thinking about me. Give ’em a couple of minutes to cool off 11
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and I’ll bet you they’ll muster their courage up and call right back, shrugging it off as a bad connection or something. Of course, not one minute later, the phone rang. I smiled widely. Let the games begin.
Cat and Mouse From there on out, it’s pretty straightforward. I made myself “available” to Tony by hanging around places I knew he’d be, like at the mall shopping for shoes. That way, I kept “popping” up unexpectedly. There she is again! What is going on with this? And, of course, I pretended not to know who he was. (This drives them crazy!) “Maggie! Maggie!” I stopped, turned both ways, “spotted” Tony and smiled curiously. “It’s Tony!” he exclaimed and pointed at himself. “Tony!” I stared at him, as if trying to figure out just exactly what he was: Animal? Vegetable? Mineral? “I’m the cop. Remember?” I nodded for a moment then gave a little gasp, “Oh! Of course! How are ya?” He grinned from ear to ear like he’d just been given some kind of compliment. “Doin’ good,” he replied. We smiled at each other for what seemed like a very long time. Too long for me, anyway. This is just an aside, but, it always astounds me that these guys are so nervous when they approach me. I mean, they just screwed someone over pretty bad and here they’re hemming and hawing around like some backwards-assed country boy. Don’t be fooled! 12
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“So…” he began. “Have you given it any more thought?” “What’s that?” I asked sweetly. He blushed. He actually blushed! Get a load of this guy! “You know…going out…” “Uh, yeah, a little,” I said and touched him on the arm with my purse. “Well?” I shrugged and smiled at him like the village idiot. “Um…uhhh…” He stared at me as if he were trying to decipher my words and actions. Does that mean she wants to go out with me or not? What
the hell does that mean? What’s she getting at? I’m such an idiot! This will drive him batty for days. And guess who’ll be on his mind the entire time? Yup. You got it. He may be pissed off, but he’ll keep thinking about how great my boobs looked in that tight red sweater. “I gotta go,” I said. “I’ll see you around, Tim.” That always gets them, when you don’t remember their names. “It’s Tony,” he said and affected a New York accent. “Like Tony Curtis!” He sure had to reach into the archives for that one, didn’t he? I gave him a confused look, then threw my head back and laughed loudly. You should know this one by now. Always pretend they say the most humorous things. And throw that head back, girl. Flip your hair while you’re at it. They’re always too nervous to realize you’re faking it. Or too stupid. I stopped laughing. “Oh, right.” He nodded nervously. “I’ll see you around,” I said and touched his arm with my purse again. Then, I walked away.
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And as you walk away, give a little extra twist to your walk. Show them that ass. They love it.
After about two weeks of “bumping” into this guy, I finally allowed him to make dinner for me. He greeted me at the door with a Milwaukee’s Best. Yes, he did. What a charmer. “Thanks for coming,” he said and kissed my cheek. “Sure,” I replied dryly and glanced over his apartment. It was, in a word, a dump. I was glad to see that Anne had taken most of the furniture on her way out. Served him right. Oh my way in, I stopped at a bookshelf and bent over. And, yes, I had on a very short skirt. Any opportunity you have, bend over in front of them. I prefer to wear white cotton panties because guys love white cotton panties. Reminds them of their youth or something. (Insert eye roll here.) A thong could never get the kind of reaction as white cotton panties do. Their little eyes just pop open and they’re left speechless for a while. Which is good as you don’t have to listen to the crap that comes out of their mouths. “I didn’t know you liked Erma Bombeck!” I exclaimed delightedly and stood back up. His eyes, like those of a deer caught in a headlight, looked over from the top of his beer can. He gave me a feeble nod. Remember, titillation is the key. Later on I “spilled” a little cheap wine on my shirt and “allowed” him to wipe it off. “Did you get it all?” I asked and jiggled a little. “Yeah,” he said with a sheepish grin. He was such a smooth operator. I tried not to gag.
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I leaned in towards him and said in a whisper, “Do you know what we should have done? We should have rented Dog Day Afternoon. I’ve never seen it and I’ve heard it’s fantastic.” His entire face took on a look of sheer and utter disbelief. He stammered, “We don’t have to rent it ’cause I have it!” “You do?” I asked, fluttering my eyes. He nodded. “It’s my favorite movie. Great police work in it!” “Really?” See what you’re doing here? It may not appear like you’re accomplishing much, but you are. Stuff like this drives these jerks crazy. All they can think about is getting their slimy little paws on you, thusly, they begin to think of you in an amorous way. And about how great you are. About how you throw your head back and laugh, about how much you like the Three Stooges and know the pitching records for all the great baseball players. My God, they think, she really is a great girl. I am
so lucky to have found her. All this thinking might hurt their little heads, but it leads their small, cold hearts into thinking they’re falling for you. The rest takes care of itself. Keep playing it right and you’ll be finished in no time. Smile indulgently whenever they patronize you. “Roger Maris was the first to break Babe Ruth’s record, honey, not Mark McGuire.” It may piss you off, but remember, soon you’ll have their balls. (Besides, how are we supposed to remember all that crap in the first place? I mean, who cares?) Always let them think they’re smarter than you…for a little while at least. Always lean in towards them when you’re talking. That way they get a whiff of your scent. Pheromones drive them wild. Use just enough perfume and deodorant to get by. Never 15
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overdo it. Sounds gross, but works like a charm. Why do you think all these people at dance clubs are hooking up? It’s because they sweat and sweat brings out the pheromones and the pheromones bring out the horny. Always keep their minds on sex. Tiptoe to get a kiss. Bat those eyes. Unbutton that shirt to there. Slip that noodle into your mouth provocatively. Let them feed you off their forks. Use your hands to eat whenever possible and lick your fingers clean while staring up at them. They love that stuff. And remember, they are always the big, strong man, even if they’re cooking dinner for you. Even if they’re just sitting there watching TV with a beer in hand, which is probably what they’ll be doing most, they are the man. Lean over and touch their biceps and say, “Ohhh, do you work out? Your muscles are sooooo big.” Give ’em a knowing look and glance—just glance!—downwards at their crotch as if you’re wondering, What else is big about him? By this time, they’re thinking about whether they want a little girl or a little boy first. They’re thinking about how much they can afford to pay for an engagement right. They won’t say anything of course, but they are. Men do want to get married as much as women, I can tell you. And they want to marry the right girl. (You know, that girl who doesn’t exist in any reality.) A girl just like you. Someone who likes football and pork rinds. Someone who giggles when they burp out loud. Someone who “needs” them to squash a bug or carry their heavy shopping bags. Someone who doesn’t understand why sometimes puppies get hurt. You, by now, are the perfect woman. You are the only woman in the world for them.
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Now what are you going to do? After you’ve worked your ass off on getting him to fall for you? What are you going to do next? That’s easy. Slowly pull away. Disappear for a while. Never spend every waking moment with them. That is death to any relationship. Don’t return that phone call. “Forget” to meet them at the zoo or wherever a few times. When they see you on the street, ignore them and fall into the crowd a few times. Later, when they ask about this, say, “I just didn’t see you. Sorry.” Then, just as they’re about to go crazy, go back in. Leisurely. Start returning the phone calls. Meet them at Hooters with a big smile. Ask for foot rubs. Let them get to second base, only, and say, “I told myself after my last relationship, I won’t have sex with another man until I’m married. Sorry, honey.” Well, sometimes this works, and sometimes not. There are always exceptions. Let’s pause to look at this a little closer. This is kinda important.
I Want Your Sex Sex is sometimes part of the job. Some of the guys are easy and that “promise” of sex is just as good as the real thing. You can even pretend you’re a virgin if you like. I prefer the excuse outlined earlier. The “I’m waiting since I’ve been hurt” crap. This works on a pretty regular basis. However, there are some incidences when I have to employ all natural resources. I like to call it “Bringing in the big guns.” In extreme cases when I know the guy is not doing what he’s supposed to do, I have to utilize that final resource: sex. If I didn’t do it, they’d never fall in love and I’d never get to break their 17
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hearts. Men expect sex. They want it. They have to have it. If they don’t get it, they go crazy or worse, become uninterested. We can’t have that. It’s like this: I don’t do it unless absolutely necessary. And even then, the guy has to meet my criteria: Cute, clean, well-built and at least a few attributes that lead me to believe he’s human. A delicate balance must be maintained.
Rule of thumb: 1. 2. 3.
Wait until the right moment. If you give it up too soon, they’ll get bored. Give it up too late and they become uninterested.
An illustration: Take this dick, Eric. He was the worst dick ever. He was very good looking (and knew it) and was one of those vain guys who shaves all of his body hair. He had the biggest ego on the planet. No matter what I did, he wasn’t falling in any way, shape or form and even threatened to break up with me. So, I had to pull out my final resource which was, of course, sex. This is what I did. Each time I saw him, I’d get him all excited by running my hand up his inseam and resting it on his inner thigh, near his crotch. I wouldn’t do anything else; I’d just rest my hand there and wait until he was good and excited, then I’d pull away. I’d do this everywhere, too—in restaurants, at baseball games, in the car, in his apartment, everywhere. This would lead to a little kissing. And the guy wasn’t a bad kisser. He was one of those pull her head back and give it to her kinda guys. He did, in fact, make me hot. Very hot. This went on for a little while until I could tell it was driving him crazy. One night, I decided to let him have it—in public, in his car, in an alley. 18
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I started with the old bait and switch, running my hand up and down his inseam. He was nearly rising out of his seat. Then I climbed into his lap and stared kissing him whilst moaning with rapture. He was going crazy. But so was I. The windows of the car were steamed up. “Oh, Eric,” I moaned. “I wanna do it so bad.” “Oh, Camille, come on, baby,” he moaned back. “I’ll be gentle, I swear.” I almost cracked up. I held it in, grinned, sucked a little on my pinky and ground my hips against his. “You promise?” He nodded, staring at me as if I was the only person on Earth.
Good sign! And then, it was easy. We were all over each other in that car, loving every minute of it. It wasn’t long before I let human instinct take over and guide me. I just enjoyed the ride and what girl doesn’t need some good sex every once in a while? For what it was worth, Eric was good in bed, even if he was a complete asshole otherwise. Afterwards, he stared deeply into my eyes and said those three little words every girl longs to hear, “I love you.” “Oh,” I moaned, kissing his face. “I love you, too!” Hook, line and sucker.
The Proverbial Boot After about a month or so of this, check him out. Does he shake a little when he sees you? Does he always smile when you come into a room? Check for the signs. If not, you’ve got more work to do. If so, then the gig is up. Now you’re ready. It’s time to bring ’em down. 19
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Breaking up is fairly easy. Sometimes you have a jerkass who won’t take the hint. Sometimes they take it all too well. With the last two I did, I was short on time, so I sent a “Dear John” letter. Here’s an example:
“Dear John (or whatever the hell his name is), I’ve been thinking. A lot. Lately, I have come to the realization that we may not be right foreach other. Therefore, I don’t think it’s a good idea to see you anymore. That’s all! Have a great day! Sincerely, (insert code name here)” I don’t usually like to do this. I need all the details about the breakup so when I see my client later on, I have a full report of all events. But if time is short, it’s short. There are multitudes of ways you can break up. Any old excuse will do. I don’t put a lot of effort into it. Here are a few of my favorites.
Break-up excuses: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8.
Have you ever heard of foreplay? You stink. Literally. I must say you represent everything I despise in a man. (This is one of my favorites.) Your clothes are all…wrong. When was the last time you cut your toenails? I just don’t…like you. You’re just too weird. (Always shudder when you say this.) We can still be friends. In the next life. 20
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9. You have love handles. On your ass. 10. Fake flowers are not just as good as the real thing. 11. That toupee just ain’t working. And the all-time favorite…let’s all say it together…drum roll! 12. I guess it just wasn’t meant to be. When you’re breaking up, you don’t have to be subtle. You don’t have to make excuses or say, “We can still be friends.” You don’t want to be friends with this asshole. He deserves no better than what he is about to get. REMEMBER THAT. Never get emotionally involved or you’ll be the one crying on your best friend’s shoulder. You can keep that distance. Keep it by remembering things your client has told you. Like that time he moaned his ex-girlfriend’s name in bed while they were having sex. Like that time he forgot her birthday—for a month. Like that time he broke up with her because, “You’re just not right for me.” Or said, “Let’s be friends.” The fact is these men are bastards, pure and simple. I wouldn’t do the shit I do if they weren’t. Yeah, people can change but they usually don’t. In my mind, they lead their ex-girlfriends on for years, dangling that damn engagement ring over their heads to get what they wanted: A steady lay. They have lied, most of them have cheated and none of them deserve better. And it was time to cut Mr. Tony Holmes out.
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Just Desserts I decided to drop the bomb one day when we were out riding in my car. It was a tad premature on my part, but I was ready to cut this sucker loose. I was just so tired of his crap. I usually break up in a public place so they won’t make a scene and I can get out quick. Then I can disappear, change my phone number and take a break before I start on the next dick. I said, “Tony, I’ve been thinking…” “About what, sweetheart?” he asked and smiled at me. I forced myself to look over at him. This guy had been so easy. It was like taking candy from a baby. His teeth were slightly yellow. And he had bad breath—sinusitis or something. Sometimes when he kissed me, his breath would be so bad, I’d almost gag. I couldn’t wait to not kiss him anymore. What had Anne seen in him? What?! And he wanted to smell my armpits all the time, too. (We all know why.) He’d even sneak to do it! Every once in a while, I’d catch him. I doubled up on deodorant, needless to say. “I don’t think we should see each other anymore,” I said. “Whaaa?” “Tony, I’m breaking up with you.” “What?! Why?!” he roared. “Are you kidding me?!” They always do this. I took a breath and said calmly, “Please stop yelling.” “Stop the car!” “Huh?” “Stop the car!” I stopped on a bridge, hoping he would get out and walk. He leapt out of the car, ran to the side of the bridge and threatened to jump off. 22
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“I swear to God, I’ll do it!” he whined. “I love you! You can’t do this to me! I CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT YOU!” Why did everything with these jerks have to be so extreme? Like I was gonna say, Well, in that case, let’s get married! I stared over at the water. If he jumped, he’d just get wet. Oh, well. I said, “Look, do what you have to do. I gotta go!” And I did. I had a lot of stuff to get done that day.
Love is Blind Anne pushed a smaller brown envelope over towards me. Payday. I picked it up and slipped it into my purse, stood and prepared to leave. She said, “Wait.” I sat back down. “How did you do it?” she asked. “I just did it.” “He called me the other night bawling like a baby.” “Isn’t that what you wanted?” I asked. She looked around. I got the picture. “You feel bad for him?” I asked. She hesitated before she spoke. “I still love him.” I gave her a wry look. “You still love the asshole who dumped you two days before your wedding and immediately fell in love with a complete stranger?” She sighed. “Well, love is blind.” “No, Anne, people are blind.” “What makes you so special?” She was giving me a slight glare. Sometimes they do this. Don’t ask me why, but they do. They get pissed because their old 23
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boyfriend is in love with you and not with them. It happens, occasionally. Don’t take it personally. “What makes me so special?” I leaned forward. “I don’t care about them—that’s what makes me so special.” It’s true. That’s why they fall so hard. You’re unattainable, you’re out of reach. You don’t care about them just like they didn’t care about their ex-girlfriends. Or they may have cared, but not enough. I don’t know why, but the less you like someone, the more they seem to like you. It’s that principal that my heartbreaking business was built on. If I could bottle it, I’d be a gazillionaire. Anne was stumped. There was no use trying to talk to her about it. She would heal, eventually, but not this way. Sometimes, it’s like that. It’s sad when your services don’t measure up to their expectations. But I can’t heal every broken heart out there with a little retaliation. I can try. I can do my part. But she’d have to heal on her own. I felt bad for her, but my work was done. “You’ll feel better soon,” I told her. She stared numbly at me and muttered, “Not soon enough.” I nodded. “See you around.” I left as Anne stared bullet holes in my back. Ah, well, you can’t please ’em all.
The Bitch is Back You may be saying to yourself, “What a mean bitch! How could she do that? She’s heartless!” Well, we all have reasons for what we do, don’t we? And I’m no different. I wasn’t always such a hard bitch. Even I had a heart once. And, yes, it got broken—twice.
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Here’s the story: Think about a seventeen-year-old kid coming to the big city (in this case Atlanta, Georgia) for the first time to escape the purgatory of small town life. Think about her first love, who was the reason she came. He convinced her if she came with him, he’d take care of her. He’d always be there for her. Think about that kid coming home to a crummy apartment crawling with roaches finding all the money she’d been saving gone—not much, but all she had in the world. And the bum who took it was gone too. Gone for good. No letter, no explanation. No nothing but a broken heart. Now, think about that kid crying herself to sleep every night, with no money and no ticket home. Nobody in the whole to help her. Everywhere she looked she saw a stranger. Think about how hard it must have made her. How lonely she must have felt. Think about all the scummy men who hit on her, who wanted to take advantage of her and her youth. Think about that. And don’t tell me how you can’t trust anyone. I know that. I know that first hand. I know how lonely it is. I know how it feels to always be alone on Valentine’s Day, at Christmas. I know how terrible it makes you feel when no one calls, when the phone never rings. Or when it’s been disconnected because you couldn’t afford to pay the bill. Now think about this young girl, this young woman, pulling herself together and getting on with her life. Things happen for a reason, she tells herself, and good will come out of this. Think about this kid attending community college in hopes of a better future and meeting up with a man, a professor no less, who seemed to be everything she’d ever wanted. He was older and, she thought, that meant he was wise. Think about all the things this son of a bitch promised her: A nice home, a big diamond engagement ring, 25
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a little boy and a little girl, seducing her with visions of contentment and happiness. Think about that girl falling so head over heels in love with this “man” that she couldn’t think straight. Now think about that girl, whose friend invites her to waitress at a “Dad of the Year” banquet. She needs the extra money, so why not? At that banquet she finds out why her boyfriend can’t spend the night or any money on her and why he keeps postponing the wedding. He’s been postponing their life together for one simple reason: He is the “Dad of the Year.” He accepts his award with his wife and kids—one girl, one boy—in front of an admiring audience. Her whole world crashes down in front of her. She’s sad, she’s heartbroken, but most importantly, she’s mad as hell. She has been totally humiliated. And she won’t stand for it. She wants him to eat shit. This is the second guy that has screwed her over. That gave her empty promises and turned out to be a bald-faced liar. They must all be the same. Men suck! They’re duplicitous rats, no good liars, and most of the time, all around jerkasses! They will cheat on you. Then they will laugh at you. They have wives! And children! They are no good. Revenge begins to take form. How can she get him and get him good? He shouldn’t get away with this. He can’t. With the help of her trusted friend, she sends out her wedding invitations to all guests at the banquet. There are billboards around town congratulating him as “Dad of the Year.” With spray can in hand, she crosses out dad and puts in “Dick.” All over town. He is now the “Dick of the Year.” Now it’s time for his world to come crashing down. And, after her work is finished, she does feel better. She can move on, but the direction of her life has changed forever. It changes because a young woman overhears her discussing the 26
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situation in a bar with a friend. She admires what she has done and how she has done it. She has a similar story and her heart is breaking, too. Can she help her? She sure as hell can. And she did. And that’s how a profession was born. My dick’s name was Adam. Obviously, he was the dick to end all dicks. I heard he became an alcoholic after his wife left him. He lied to her, too, after all. She deserved a better man than him. He now mows the yard at the community college. The first dick? His name was Ben. I have no idea what he’s doing and I don’t care. I don’t really want to hear about how men get screwed over, either. I don’t care. I’m not dealing with that because it’s on the other end of the spectrum. Don’t try to convince me that they’re not all the same until you’ve walked a mile in my shoes. I’ve been there—the non-trusting woman, the bitch from hell. Men have called me horrible names just because I refused to let them buy me a drink. I know a few good men and I do know others exist somewhere. (On another planet, perhaps?) But the majority of them are taken, and will remain so. And that’s how it should be. To believe in love is human. But the reality of the situation is that after the infatuation dies down, men get bored. Very easily. You have to keep them happy or they’ll jump ship. And those are the ones I deal with. The ones who give empty promises, who have no intention of following through with what they have promised. The ones who are always looking for someone “better” or the next “conquest.” The players, if you will. The players are about to get played. It keeps me busy, to say the least.
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I could do an analogy of it. Take Willy Wonka, the Chocolate Factory guy. Some people believe that Willy Wonka was a trickster, a liar. Nothing in the Chocolate Factory was as it seemed. But there was a reason for it, for the facade. See, Willy Wonka had been screwed over, everyone wanted something from him. How does he make those delicious candies? He was forced to be a jerk, but deep down, he was a good guy…who made really good candy. Remember when Willy eliminated all those kids but one? He kept only one, right? Charlie. Yes! Charlie! And why did Willy Wonka give Charlie the Chocolate Factory? Because he was the poorest kid? No! He gave him the Chocolate Factory because Charlie wanted it the most. And also because he knew Charlie could be trusted to do the right thing. He was a good, honest boy. Therefore, he deserved the Chocolate Factory. The point is? The point is Willy wouldn’t give his prized possession over to just anybody without a test. He wanted out of the business but he’d worked so hard at it, he knew he just couldn’t hand it over to just anybody. That person had to be of good character for him to entrust his most cherished possession. He was ready to get out, but he wasn’t about to see all his hard work go to pot. My prized possession is my heart. I’m not about to let just anybody mess with it. But they say the third time’s the charm—if I believed in any of that nonsense, which I don’t. So, go on. Tell me your story.
My Life With Charlene—and Red “Rhiannon, I am NOTHING without you…please come back!” 28
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I stared at the note, then back at the overstuffed paper shredder. There was another one in there. I fought with it forever and finally managed to pull it from the jaws of the shredder. This one read: “Katrina, I have thought of you for many moons.
Please reconsider…” These guys needed to get a life. I rolled my eyes, shredded them both by hand and threw them into the trashcan, where they belonged. I sighed and stared around my living room smiling. My crib’s extremely cool. Posh, plush, and swanky in a very early Hollywood glam kinda way. It’s my pride and joy. The couch was lush deep blue velvet, with yellow throw cushions. A crisp white shag rug covered the floor. A nice bar sat in the corner, fully stocked. And the walls were a dark blue, so blue they almost looked black. Knickknacks included a mini Graceland, and a gold Elvis record on the wall, and a Elvis Presley Boulevard sign and a Elvis clock where his legs swing and a… Oops. You’re probably thinking, A mini Graceland? Okay. Time to confess. I’m an Elvis Aaron Presley freak. I love him. I adore him and I worship him. I have most of his records and still search for vinyl at record shops. I also have a large black velvet Elvis hanging in my bedroom. It’s the one where he’s in the white outfit with the scarf blowing in the wind. It’s so cool. Elvis inspires me. Here he was, this poor kid with a dream. And look at what he accomplished! He is and will always be the King of Rock and Roll. And do you know why? ’Cause he was the best at it, baby. Out of nowhere, a hand appeared on my shoulder. I jerked and screamed before I turned and saw Charlene grinning at me. She always does that. You’d think I’d eventually catch on. Or, she’d learn to knock on the front door. 29
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“Scare me back to the womb!” I yelled. “You scared the shit out of me, Charlene!” “At least I don’t look like shit,” she shot back. I walked over and shut the door, which she’d carelessly left ajar as she had hers, which was right across the hall. I resisted the urge to look into her apartment which was, to put it nicely, extremely untidy. But I’m always curious to see what state of disrepair it’s in. “Good one,” I said and glanced at my watch. Noon. “You’re up early today.” She sighed. “So?” “So, I never see you before five.” “Guess you got lucky today, didn’t ya?” she said. She was such a smartass. If there were ever a typical Southern girl, Charlene would be her. She talks with a twang that drives men wild, as do her clothes, which are just tight enough. (I taught her that.) She won’t leave the house without make-up, even if she’s just going to the car wash. And her (bleached) blonde hair is always perfect. “You never know who you’re gonna meet,” she always says. “So, you gotta be ready.” She rarely “meets” anyone as she won’t give most men the time of day. “Why waste my time?” she says. And when she does meet someone…well, let’s just say, she bores easily. She grinned at me and snapped her fingers to the music— Aretha Franklin’s Baby, I Love You. She held out her hand. I took it and we danced a little around the room. She dipped me. “No Elvis today?” she asked. “The King’s taking five,” I said as she pulled me back up. She gave me a twirl, then, obviously bored (short attention span) flopped on the couch as I spun around. I stopped, finally, and she picked up the remote and started flipping channels.
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She stopped suddenly and pointed at me. “What are we going to do tonight?” “What do you mean?” “What are our plans?” she asked. “My plans include rest and relaxation.” She shot me a little glare. “Ah, come on! Let’s go out! I need to meet me a man! I’m tired of working!” “You meet men all the time!” “Are you referring to those goons who come into the bar as men?” She raised one eyebrow. “I’d never date one of those losers.” Charlene wants to quit her job as a waitress once she finds that special guy who is: 1) Rich; 2) Good looking; 3) Willing to let her do whatever she chooses, whenever she chooses to do it; 4) Can sing like Elvis; 5) Has the charm and ease of Dean Martin; and 6) Has at least an eight inch dick. Which means, she’ll be single forever, like me. I chuckled at her just as the phone rang. I picked up. “Yell-O!” “Hey, girl!” “Red!” I squealed. “What are you doing?” Charlene waved at me to indicate that she was not in the room. I shot her a quizzical look and rolled my eyes. It should be noted that Charlene’s never in the room or even on the planet where Red is concerned. Red has a screaming crush on Charlene that will never in a million years be reciprocated. She thinks he’s greasy. And dumb. And poor. (He’s not really any of the aforementioned.) Therefore, she never gives him the time of day unless she needs the oil changed in her car. (He’s a mechanic. And a damn good one at that.) I think she’s a bit mean to him, but what can I do about it? That’s just the way she is. “So, is Charlene there?” he asked. 31
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“Uh, no, as a matter of fact, I haven’t seen her,” I said and eyed her. She flipped me a bird. I flipped her one back. “Oh,” he muttered. “So, what’s up?” I asked. He hesitated before he answered. “Y’all said you’d help me.” “What are you talking about?” “Earl’s birthday. You said you’d help me.” Unfortunately, I had. I asked, “He’s that one guy, right?” “Yeah, Tina, I’m talking about Earl Goodman, the number one racecar driver. Everybody knows who he is.” “You know I don’t keep up with that redneck crap, Red.” “Don’t talk like that, girl,” he said. “So what time are you gonna be here?” “Today? You need help today?” “Yeah, Tina, today. Today is his birthday.” “When does it start?” I asked. “Well, since it’s a surprise party, I’d say after eight for sure. Told him to come over around then.” “So what time do I need to be there?” “I need you right now, girl,” he told me. “For what?” I asked. “You said you’d help me cook and stuff.” This always happened to me. I agree to do something just to be nice, then later I regret it because I really didn’t feel like doing it in the first place. I got an idea. “Why don’t I call a caterer?” I asked. “You can’t do that,” he said. “Why?” “Tina, besides you and Charlene, Earl is my best friend and I can’t do that to him. Wouldn’t be right.” “But I know this really good place that—” 32
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“I’ll take care of the barbeque. I need you to do the slaw, cornbread—” “You know I don’t cook!” “It’s about time you learned, then.” “You’re outta your damn mind,” I muttered. “No, I’m not. Now I got all the stuff here, all you got to do is show up, throw it in a bowl and cook it.” He left out this part: Make a total mess and end up ordering pizza. That’s the extent of my cooking abilities. “Why are you going to all this trouble for this guy Earl Goodman?” I asked. Charlene immediately perked up. “Earl Goodman? Did you just say Earl Goodman?” Red was saying, “Girl, do I have to go over this again? Earl and I go way back. Besides—” I put my hand over the mouthpiece and said to Charlene, “What?” She walked over to me and took the phone out of my hand. “Red, it’s Charlene. If Earl’s gonna be there, you can bet your pretty ass we’ll be there, too!” I gaped at her. She hung up and grinned at me. “So, where’s the party?” See why I love her? I shook my head and said, “I thought you weren’t here.” “I’m always around for Earl Goodman.” She plopped on the couch and put her hands behind her head. “I’ve been thinking about him lately. He’s dreamy.” Apparently, she had regressed to a 1950s teenybopper. She continued, “I met him a few years ago, but we lost touch. Remember, I told you—” “Charlene, you shouldn’t do Red like that.” 33
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“Excuse me?” she scoffed. “Oh, la di da, look who’s talking, Miss Professional Heartbreaker. Puh-leeze!” “You know he has feelings just like anyone else.” “He does?” Her eyes widened. “When did that happen?” “Charlene!” “Oh, get off it, girl,” she hissed. “I just don’t and won’t ever think of Red in that way.” “But you don’t have to be a bitch about it.” She sat up and pointed at me, “If I was all nice to him, Tina, that’d give him the idea I was interested. And I’m not. And that would be more cruel than dealing with it in this way.” She had a point. She was tough as nails. She’d told me stories about how she’d beat boys up in grade school. “Those little bastards were always trying to see up my dress!” And they’d just stand there and let her beat the living hell out of them, never attempting to defend themselves. But, then again, what kind of boy hits a girl? “Yeah, whatever,” I said. “What’s so wrong with Red?” “Well, for one,” she said, inspecting her manicured nails. “Red has sausage fingers. And red hair.” I almost cracked up. “What the hell are you talking about?” “Sausage fingers. They’re thick and greasy. Like sausages. He’s got ’em and I don’t like ’em.” I stared at her. “The red hair should explain itself.” “You’re crazy.” She ignored me and said, “So, can I borrow something sexy?” “Why are you trying to impress this Earl guy?” “Oh, honey, when you see him, you’ll understand,” she said on her way out of the room. “He’s the real deal, too, a real heartbreaker.” Then I definitely didn’t want to meet him. 34
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The phone rang just as she disappeared into my bedroom. I picked up. “Hello.” “Hello? Is this Tina?” “Yes. Who’s this?” “You don’t know me, but a friend gave me your number,” she said. “I really need your…services.” “What is it you exactly need?” I asked. “I think my boyfriend might be cheating.” “Really?” “Well…I think he would if he could and I wanted you to…test him out.” I felt like yelling, Are you out of your mind?! Instead, I said. “I can’t help you with that. Hire a private detective.” “But, but—” “Goodbye,” I said and hung up. I don’t recommend doing that, ever. Never get involved as “the other woman.” Don’t do it, don’t do it! The situations are always sticky and most of the women who want that kind of thing are whacked. In essence, wives and girlfriends want to see if the old man will cheat by having me come on to them. Total ignorance bordering on lunacy. Yes, they always want to. And usually will, given the opportunity. Believe me, it’s not a glamorous job. It’s hard work. After some of the quote, unquote “princes” I’ve crushed, you’d wonder why these women care so much. Take this guy, Desmond Wolf. On the surface he seemed cool, even though he was always talking about his “memoirs” and how he was “starting” his autobiography. (Who was going to read the thing?) Anyway, he had a gorgeous older Bentley, wore nice clothes and was very clean looking, which is always a plus. So one night, he takes me for a very nice dinner at a very nice restaurant. 35
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Then, during the meal, he lets out a fart that nearly lifted us both out of the booth. It was like KABOOM! Then it was over. I waited. And waited. He made no move to apologize. Then guess what he did? He said, “Excuse you?” To me! He blamed it on me! Like I was the one who farted! I checked to see if he was joking. He wasn’t. All I could do was blink at him. I mean, what are you gonna say? No, buddy, that would be you, not I. I can control my bodily functions. Besides, you’re not supposed to do that crap until you’ve moved in together. And maybe not even then. Maybe not even ever. I wonder if he was going to put that in his memoirs. Take this other guy, Donald Twain. Again, he seemed cool as a cucumber. He loved the English band Black Grape. I loved them, too. So, I thought, well, you know, whatever. Not so. One sunny afternoon, we’re walking on a downtown street, hand in hand, and another guy passes us and whistles at me. This happens occasionally. (And there ain’t nothing wrong with it.) However, Donald did not like it one bit. He jumped into action, shaking his fist at the other man and started yelling at him. “You asshole! I’ll give you something to whistle at! Come back here!” He grabbed a bottle off the street and threw it at the guy. “Take a picture next time!” I could not believe what I’d just witnessed. Then, after he chased the guy off, he came back to me, put his arm around my shoulders and said, “What do you want for dinner?” Like nothing had happened! What do I want for dinner? I’ll take some chicken á
la king, but you’d better have some Prozac! This other guy—I think his name was Jerry something or another—invited me over for dinner. He lived in this old apartment building that was very nice. He worked for CNN and had a shitload of money. He got to go to all kinds of cool parties 36
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and meet all kinds of cool people. So, I got there early and knocked. No response. I tried the door and it was open so I went in. I mean, we were supposed to meet for dinner, so why not? I heard a noise coming for the kitchen, so I went in there. He was sitting at the table with all the lights turned off eating a whole broasted chicken in the dark! Not only that, but once I flipped on the lights, I found that his entire face was covered in grease and chicken skin was hanging off his face. It was like he’d eaten it like a wild animal or something. “Hi, honey,” he said with full mouth. “I saved some for you.” I turned off the light and let myself out quietly. Very few of these jerks have any redeeming qualities. It’s a hard-ass job when you get right down to it. I earn every penny. At this point, you’ve probably started formulating questions you’d like to ask. One of the most popular is: What if the dick left the client for another woman? What if he already has a new girlfriend? This does happen, but it’s really not a problem. So what do you do? Simple. Follow the same plan I’ve given you. If he was willing to chuck a LTR (long-term relationship), then he’d more than willing to chuck a STR (short-term relationship). He hasn’t really had enough time to form any sort of bond with this new chick. That’s because most of these girls are transitional. They are the transitional girls and we all know what that means. In fact, sometimes it’s easier to get the guy in a situation like this. He’s already doubting his decision to some extent, so hooking him is easy peasy. New girl, less guilt. So, by the time I get him, he’s already dropped the new girl like a hot potato. which is even more reason to bust his balls. Charlene yelled, “You gonna come in here or not?” “Not!” I yelled back but went in anyway. 37
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Farmer Joe Red lived outside of Mariatta in a very cute two-story brick house that was built sometime in the fifties. I got there around two. Charlene said she would, “Come out a little later to help,” which meant I could expect her as soon as all the work was done. And, of course, Red was nowhere to be seen, either. It was just me, a big pile of uncooked food and a grill. Damn it! Red had left a note: “Be back soon.” No one in the universe really knows what that means, do they? “Soon” could be hours. Days, even. Millenniums… Red had also left a menu and instructions, “Tina, I’ll take care of the barbeque, you just take care of all the other stuff.” Oh, is that all? I glanced over the menu: Barbeque pork, Barbeque chicken, Hamburgers, Hot dogs, Baked beans, Cornbread, Potato salad, Coleslaw, Blackberry Cobbler. And some other crap I didn’t know how to cook. What was I gonna do? I sighed and got to work. I separated all the food into what I hoped was piles of what went together then I turned on the stove. I don’t know why I did; I just thought it might be a good idea. I shuffled the food items around for awhile then got a beer out of the refrigerator. I sipped on the beer and stared at all the uncooked food. Oh, screw it. Red would never know if I ordered this stuff from a caterer. I picked up the phone to dial when someone knocked on the front door. A reprieve! I raced to it to find on the other side a tall guy with a beard, dark hair and periwinkle blue eyes. He started to speak, stopped like he was embarrassed about something, then stared at me. I stared back, taking him in. He looked vaguely 38
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familiar to me though I was more than sure I’d never laid eyes on him before. Who was this guy? I don’t know how long we stood there either. We just stared for a few long seconds, neither of us moving, almost as if we were partially afraid to say anything, lest we break the spell. Part of us may have been thinking this wasn’t really happening, while the other part of us thought it really was. I felt my heartbeat jump a little. He was that kind of guy. I wondered if his did the same. If someone had drove by at that moment, I am more than sure they would have thought we looked like a bunch of nimrods, standing there gaping at each other. All the same, he looked pretty damn good. I could tell he had one of those bodies that always look yummy without a shirt on— ripped muscles, broad shoulders and those big arms that have the chiseled biceps that just look strong. Like they could sweep you up, hold you tight and take you prisoner, but you wouldn’t mind one bit. I mean, he looked like a man. A strong man. No one would ever, in a million years, mistake this guy for a wimp. That’s always a turn-on, isn’t it? A strong man? I’m an arm woman, by the way. That’s what turns me on. Big, strong arms and broad shoulders. But given the fact that he was dressed in overhauls took away any initial attraction I—or any other sensible woman—might have had. He also had a beard. I don’t like beards. Not much, anyway. (At least that’s what I told myself.) I shook myself and waited for him to say something. He didn’t. I’d have to open the conversation. I said, “Yes?” He was still staring. He blinked, shook himself and asked, “Uh, is Red here?” “Nope,” I said, shaking my head. 39
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“You know where he is?” “No.” He seemed momentarily confused and muttered, “Huh.” “Are you here to help?” I asked for some reason. He stared at me. “Uh, I reckon. What do you need help with?” I jerked my head towards the kitchen. “I’m supposed to be fixing some stuff for a party, only problem is, I don’t know how.” “What kind of stuff?” “Potato salad, coleslaw, stuff like that.” He grinned. “Yeah, I could help, I guess.” “Really? You know how to cook?” “I get by.” “Well, get your butt in here and help,” I said and walked back into the kitchen. “Oh, by the way, I’m Tina.” I held out my hand. He took it and gave a hearty shake. “And you are…?” “Oh, sorry. I’m Farmer Joe.” “Farmer Joe?” I asked. He nodded. Apparently, he was serious. “Uh, well, nice to meet you.” “You too,” he replied and smiled at me. “So, do you know Old McDonald, Farmer Joe?” I asked and hopped up on the counter. He grinned, turned around and gave me a quick glance, then shook his head. “Yeah, you could say I do.” “Well, he had a farm, too. Thought you guys might be neighbors or something.” He nodded. “He lives up the road.” I chuckled then the room was suddenly enveloped in silence. I stared at him, at his shoulders and wondered how I could get the kitchen hot enough for him to come out of his overhauls. I was dying to see his arms. I shook myself. What was wrong with me?
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And why was I suddenly attracted to this strange man in a pair of overhauls? After I regained my senses, I pointed to the table. “There’s all the stuff. You can get to work now.” “You ain’t gonna help?” I shook my head. “I don’t cook.” “What do you do, then?” “What do you mean?” “How do you eat?” he asked. “Oh! Order in or go out. What do you think?” “Huh,” he said, nodding. “Let’s see, oh, here’s Red’s note.” He read it, nodding. “That doesn’t look too bad. Who’s this party for?” “Earl Goodman. It’s his birthday or something.” “Oh? How old is he?” “Look, I don’t know nothing about the son of a bitch.” He cracked up and shook his head. “Well.” I nodded. “How do you know Red?” “Oh, we work together.” “At his garage or for Earl Goodman?” I asked. He grinned and shook his head. “I work with him and that son of a bitch, Earl.” “Oh. Cool. You like it?” He nodded. “Best job in the world.” Not so, I thought about saying. But I didn’t. You know why. We didn’t say anything for a while and he got to work. He knew what he was doing, too. He whipped up cornbread, coleslaw and the like in no time flat. I sat there, slack-jawed, and watched. The kitchen wasn’t warm enough for him to undress in any way. Too bad. “Your mama taught you good,” I told him. “No, she didn’t,” he said. “My old man taught me.” 41
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“Oh, sorry,” I said. “Is she…” “No, she’s not dead,” he said. “I don’t mean to pry,” I said quickly. “Sorry.” “Don’t worry about it,” he said, going to the refrigerator, where he took out some vegetables. “Wanna help me chop?” “I can at least do that,” I said and hopped down from the counter. We stood side by side and chopped vegetables, then threw them all into a big bowl. “That looks good,” I said. “I’m ’bout hungry,” he said, then popped a tommy toe tomato into his mouth. “Want one?” I nodded and he popped one into my mouth. I smiled at him as I chewed. “Thank ya.” “Want another one?” “Nah. I’m saving room for the barbeque.” He grinned. I smiled back. I was starting to like him. As I’ve said, I don’t hate all men, just the assholes and this guy didn’t seem to be one. People who dress in overalls usually aren’t. “Why are you wearing overalls?” I asked. He gave me an odd look and said, “They’re not overhauls. They’re Carhartts.” I stared at him, at the brown “overalls” he had on. What was the difference? I said, “Oh, okay.” “They’re not overalls,” he said adamantly. “Alright?” I shrugged. “Yeah, I know. They’re Carhartts.” He stared at me for a moment, then threw his head back and roared with laughter. “Damn, girl, you say what’s on your mind, don’t ya?” I nodded at him and leaned against the counter. “Yes, I do and while we’re on the subject, you got a beard, too, don’cha?” 42
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“Yeah… So?” he said. “You don’t like beards?” “They’re okay. It’s just…I like to see the person I’m staring at, not this big pile of hair.” Again, he threw his head back and laughed loudly. “You sure do say what’s on your mind, don’t you?” “Well, I figure I ain’t got nothing to lose if I don’t.” He was still smiling. “Think I should shave it?” “Oh, don’t do it on my account.” “Oh, I wouldn’t do that.” “You coming to the party tonight?” I asked. “I think I might have to be there,” he replied. I heard a horn honk. I ran to the window and saw a truck pulling up. I said, “Oh, the tent’s here.” “The tent?” “Yeah, Red rented a tent so we could eat under it.” He eyed me. “You don’t want go out with me tonight by any chance, do you? We could skip the party.” “No, I couldn’t do that to Red. He’d kill me.” “Well, I guess I’ll have to come, too,” he said and went to the door. “I’ll see you later. I need to run home and change.” “What about the cornbread and the—” “It’s all taken care of. I’ve turned the oven off; all you gotta do is take it out and slice it. And put spoons in everything else.” “Thanks for all this. I don’t know what I’d done without you.” “No problem,” he said. “I’ll see you later, maybe?” “Maybe.” He walked out of the kitchen and I turned around smiling. Then I stopped and shook myself. What the hell was wrong with me? He was just some dumbass in overalls. I mean, Carhartts.
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Since it was the middle of March, it was still a little chilly outside. I helped Red light up a bonfire and a few tiki torches. The tent was smack dab in the middle of his backyard. We arranged tables under it, then began to set out the food, plates, napkins and all that other stuff you need for a party. Red kept thanking me profusely, “Tina, you did good. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He leaned over and whispered, “I believe that’s the best blackberry cobbler I’ve ever ate.” I feigned surprise. “It is? I thought your mama made better.” “You’ve got it over her, girl,” he said then jabbed me in the ribs. “And you said you couldn’t even cook.” I grinned at him. “Oh, I can’t.” He eyed me, let out a laugh and shook his head. “Red, where’s the birthday cake?” I asked. “Oh, Earl doesn’t like cake,” he said. “He likes cobbler better.” “Oh,” I said, thinking that was kinda strange. I excused myself and ran into the house to take a quick shower and change clothes. I smiled to myself the whole time, thinking about everything I’d “done” and glad I could help Red out. Sometimes, it’s good to do that kind of thing. You should always be willing to help friends out. I also smiled at the thought of Farmer Joe. He seemed pretty cool. I like guys like that, the ones who are soft spoken. Big hands. Big feet. Yeah, he had two of those. Overalls. Totally unpretentious. Those are the best kinds of guys. Big blue eyes…dark hair… I shook myself. What the hell was going on with me? You’d think I was in love with this dweeb or something. I pointed to myself in the mirror and said, “Stop it. Stop it now!” People, including Charlene, began to arrive around seven. There were all kinds of them, too. Some women even came in 44
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sequins (not the good kind), but most everybody was dressed in jeans and cowboy boots, including Red and excluding me. Charlene was dressed to impress in a tight little black mini-skirt and tight white shirt. She looked good. I almost felt dowdy next to her. I just had on my favorite pair of jeans and a white t-shirt and my diamond stud earrings and my old reliable Birkenstock sandals. My hair was in a neat ponytail. Well, I was elegantly dressed down. And, besides, it was an outdoor party. Why was she all dressed up? Red tried not to look at Charlene and Charlene ignored him. I was stuck in-between them at a large round table with people wearing too much cologne and jewelry. I didn’t see Farmer Joe anywhere, either. Which kinda, sorta irritated me, though I don’t know why. Elvis played in the background. That was a plus. It still looked like it was going to be a long night, though. Red whispered to me, “Earl found out.” “What?” I asked. “He found out about his party being a surprise.” “How?” He shrugged. “I dunno. So the surprise is off.” “That sucks, man.” “Yeah, I reckon. Oh, look, there’s Ned.” “Who’s Ned?” He pointed at a man who was approaching the head of the table. He was at once self-important and nervous. He was also dressed in a white Colonel Sanders’ suit, cowboy boots and cowboy hat. I immediately liked him. I admire audacity in any form. “And?” I whispered to Red. “You know, Ned’s Barbeque,” he said. “He’s that Ned?!” I exclaimed. He nodded. I got an idea. “Why didn’t you ask him to cook the barbeque and stuff?” 45
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“He don’t cook it, Tina,” he told me with a side glance. “He just sells it.” “Oh,” was all I could think of to say. I focused my attention on Ned, who was addressing the tent. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to introduce the man whose birthday we’re celebrating.” He paused so we could all digest this. Okay, got it. Go on now. He continued, “Without him, racing would not be the great sport it is today. So, without further a-doo, Mr. Earl Goodman!” A-doo! I loved that. A-doo! The tent erupted into applause. I joined in just as someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned to see a tall, thin blonde woman who looked extremely anxious. “Yes?” I asked. She bent and whispered, “You’re Tina Louise, right?” I nodded. “Yup, that’s me.” “Can I talk to you?” she asked and jerked her head towards the door. “I’m kinda busy,” I said and looked away. I wanted to get a good look at this guy Earl and see what the big deal was. All I could tell was that he was tall and dressed nicely in slacks and a white long sleeve dress shirt. Everyone under the tent seemed to love him and some even stood to clap as he shook Ned’s hand. To them, I guess, he was the man. People go crazy over racecar driving. Don’t ask me why, but they do. It has such a tremendous following. But so does Elvis. “Please?” she pleaded. I stared at her. This always happened. “Okay,” I said. “Give me a minute and I’ll meet you inside.”
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She left just as Earl turned to face the room. The moment we’ve all been waiting for… And as he turned around…he… No! It couldn’t be! It was. My jaw dropped. Earl was Farmer Joe. The son of a bitch! He still had his beard. He grinned a little at me. I forced my mouth shut, crossed my arms and got up to leave. “Where you going?” Charlene hissed. I jerked my head towards the house and muttered, “I have a potential dick situation.” “Well,” Charlene said and then turned her attention back to Earl. I groaned and started into the house. Earl began, “Thank y’all for coming out tonight and—” Someone yelled, “How old are ya, Earl?” He grinned. “Old enough to know not to answer that question.” Everyone chuckled. “Anyway, I’d like to say a big thanks to my main pitman, Red. I’ve known him all my life and he’s just recently joined our team.” Red radiated pride. I smiled in his direction and stopped in the doorway to listen. Earl continued, “He’s the one who got me interested in professional racing in the first place. Red, stand up so everyone can get a good look at you!” Red blushed and stood. Charlene beamed at him. “Yeah, he ain’t much to look at, but he can change a tire faster than a woman can change her mind.” Me, and everyone else, cracked up. I stopped laughing first and went into the kitchen. The woman was sitting at the table. She looked up, smiled at me and told me her story. I gave her the lowdown, “I don’t break women’s hearts.” “Why not?” she asked, in anguish. “Because they don’t deserve it,” I said. 47
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“She deserves it!” I sighed. This wasn’t the first time I’d been asked to do something like this. A broken heart is a broken heart, but I’m not on that team. Know what I mean? Here are a few rules about choosing your clients:
Rules to choosing clients: 1. Unless you’re gay or bisexual, don’t go there. 2. Unless you’re gay or bisexual, don’t go there. As I am neither of the above, I don’t do it. A guy once tricked me into breaking his bisexual lover’s heart. He’d gotten a friend to pose as the girlfriend and it was this whole thing. As I broke up with the guy, his ex-boyfriend came into the restaurant and they got into a really big fight. I felt like a fool. And then they beat the shit out of each other. Right in front of me! The cops came and everything. It can be a sticky business to begin with. There are too many dynamics to worry about without adding this one, too. “Come on,” she pleaded. “I’ll do whatever it takes.” They always say this. I felt so bad for her. “Don’t you ever think,” I said. “That one day you’ll get over this and you’ll go on and meet someone new who will be so much better for you in the long run?” “All the time,” she said. “But I still want to see her in pain.” I told her, “Listen, if she loves you, she will come back. Let her do what she needs to and wait for her. If you love her that much, you owe it to yourself.” Now you might be asking why I don’t do this for everyone. Well, that’s because I do. I always tell them there are other options
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besides hiring me. And their answers are usually the same. This chick will bring the point home for me. She stared at me, looking so lost and hurt, and said, “She’s not coming back, that’s why.” And there you go. It’s not all fun and games. I consoled her for a little while, letting her cry on my shoulder then I excused myself and went home. I really needed a break from this. As I climbed into bed, I thought about Earl and felt my jaw clench. I bet he thought he was so slick, too. Well, he wasn’t that slick, just slick enough to fool me. But then again, how was I supposed to know who the hell he was? Farmer Joe my ass!
Burned Out As you might know, to be a professional heartbreaker you must be in good physical shape. That means working out at least four times a week. I go to the gym in the winter months and jog in the park during the summer. I also work out with free weights and do some yoga. Whatever you decide to do, stick with it. It does make you feel really good about yourself and you don’t have to starve in order to stay thin. Two days into my vacation, I was on the treadmill at the gym, dripping sweat and thinking about a hot fudge cake. (The perks of working out, every once in a while you can eat hot fudge cake.) I noticed two women staring at me. One of them pointed in my direction and the other approached me. “Hi, I’m Sue,” she said nervously and gave me a very shy smile. “Can I talk to you?”
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I nodded but didn’t slow down. I pointed to my watch and kept running. I don’t like to interrupt my workout. If I do, I’ll never get back on that treadmill. And I won’t get to eat my hot fudge cake. Nobody stands between me and my cake. No damn body. Ten minutes later, we were sitting outside the gym on a bench, as it was a fairly warm day. I took a swig of water and eyed her. The client: Sue. Age: 28. Profession: Pre-school teacher. Hobbies: You know, like, stuff. Goal: To have ex-boyfriend’s balls. How she found out about me: Word of mouth. Oh, boy. I took a swig another of water and lit a cigarette, much to her astonishment. Her eyes nearly popped out of her little head. I don’t know why, but after I work out, I crave a cigarette like nobody’s business. I’m trying to cut down and eventually quit. Eventually, I’ll go to the gum or the patch or whatever and then I’ll eventually get off that. Then, I’d be done with it for good. Which meant, I was never going to quit. I’d have to eventually go cold turkey and I knew it, which made me want cigarettes even more, knowing I’d someday have to live without them entirely. “And then what?” I asked. She was still staring. She shook herself. “That was it. Never heard from him again. No notes, no calls, nothing. I mean, we went out for two years.” She choked up. I resisted the urge to pat her on the back. “The bastard broke up with me via email!” she wailed. I patted her on the back. “Go on.” 50
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“Uh, that’s about it, actually. Can I have one of those?” I handed her my pack of cigarettes and asked, “What is it you want from me?” “I want you to break his fucking heart!” She lit a cigarette and inhaled, then coughed her head off. I took the cigarette out of her mouth. “You really shouldn’t smoke,” I said and threw it on the ground, where I ground it out. “Why not?” she asked. “It’s bad for you.” She eyed the cigarette then shrugged. “So, when can you do it?” “Well, sorry, but I’m about to go on vacation,” I said and stood. “Call me next month.” She tugged on my arm. Her eyes welled with tears. “Wait! Please! I’ll pay double! I’ll pay triple!” “This has nothing to do with money. I’m burning out. I have to take a break.” She turned on the waterworks. The tears just flowed. Of course, it worked. I was a sucker, it was that simple. Just turn on the waterworks and I’m putty in your hands. I took a breath and said, “Okay, get his vitals: three or four recent pictures of him, his complete address, work address, cell phone number…” She dried her eyes and pulled a notepad out of her bag. She began to write furiously. I went on, “Also, I need little information about his past. I want details on his kinks and any other general weirdness. I don’t want any surprises.” “Weirdness, kinks… No surprises.” She grinned at me like I’d suddenly become her hero. “Did you get it all?” I asked. “There’ll be a test later.” She wrote something and muttered, “…test later.” 51
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She wasn’t real. Was she? I said, “Sue?” “Uh huh. How did you get into this? I mean, if you don’t mind me asking.” “I did it as a favor to a friend and the word spread.” I picked up my gym bag. “Damn! That is, like, way cool!” How old was this girl? I checked her out. I couldn’t tell. “How old are you?” “Twenty-eight.” “You look a lot younger.” She grinned. “I get carded for beer all the time!” I smiled at her. “Me, too!” We high-fived then I told her, “Get that stuff to me by tomorrow morning.” On my way out, I heard her mutter, “…by tomorrow…”
If you’ve been paying attention, you know that I started out by helping a young woman I met in a bar. Her name’s Maria and she’s been one of my best friends since that day. She and Charlene worked together at Polk Salad Annie’s, this bar/grill where gorgeous women—dressed in ultra sexy skimpy outfits— waitress/torture men. They get do all kinds of stuff like pour drinks on men, call them out on flirting, dance on the bar and generally torment them. The men just happen to love it and the place is always packed. (The baby back ribs might help business, too.) We’d all arranged to meet for dinner. I told them I’d pick them up after my workout as they were both on the day shift now. As soon as I pulled up in my GTO, a crew of construction guys working on a telephone line outside Polk Salad Annie’s began to ogle my car. I smiled at their reactions. This happened all the time. 52
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They made way for me as I brought the car to a stop. As I got out I said, “Alright, boys, move along.” One of them said in awe, “’67 GTO. What’s it got in it?” I loved talking shop about my car. “400 cubic inches of Detroit muscle.” They just stared at the car. “Okay,” I said. “Move along.” They nodded and moved away from the car. I shook my head and made my way inside. Marvin Gaye’s Gotta Give It Up, Part 2 was playing. Great tune! I grooved on over to the bar where Matt, the meaty, multi-tattooed bartender and only man allowed to work at Polk Salad Annie’s, stood. Today he was dressed in jeans and a leather vest minus the undershirt. He looked absolutely ridiculous. “Hey, honey!” I squealed. “Tina!” We kissed hello and I sat down. I asked, “So, what happened to your shirt?” He stared down at the vest, then back at me. “You don’t like this?” I shrugged. “It looks fine—if you’re one of the Village People.” He glanced down and grimaced. “Oh, shit, you’re right. What the hell was I thinking?” “Apparently, you weren’t,” I said and winked at him. “So, what’s going on?” “Not much,” he muttered. I nodded and asked, “Where’s Charlene and Maria?” “Out back,” he said. “Want me to page them?” Just as I was about to reply, someone put their hands over my eyes. “Guess who, chiquita?” I grinned and said, “Mama?” 53
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Maria burst out laughing and gave me a one-armed hug. I smiled at her and noticed that, as always, she looked stunning, even in a pair of jeans and a pink top. Her dark hair and eyes were gorgeous. She also had a kickass Puerto Rican attitude, as that’s where she’s from. “I am ready to eat a pig, I am so hungry,” she said and sighed. “Where are we going?” “We could eat here, if you like.” “Please,” she scoffed. “If I see another chicken wing, I will vomit.” I laughed and shook my head at her. Just then, Charlene plopped down in a seat next to mine. I got a load of her outfit: Dixie flag bikini top, tight jean shorts and cowboy boots. Needless to say, she looked hot. If I were a lesbian, I’d want Charlene to be my girlfriend. Or maybe Maria. Or both. “You slumming again?” she asked and gave me a smarmy smile. “You bitching again?” I asked her. Maria and Matt cracked up. She punched me twice on the arm and said, “Good one.” “Damn, Charlene,” I groaned and rubbed my arm. “You don’t know your own strength.” She wriggled her eyebrows at me. I wriggled mine back then took a long look around the joint just as Matt sat two beers down in front of me. “I’m not that thirsty, Matt.” He jerked his head to the side. “Those guys sent them.” I glanced over. Two young dudes were grinning at us. I picked up one and saluted them. I’m not the kind of girl to turn down free beer. Charlene picked up the other one. “Thanks, sucker.” “So, are you off this month, chiquita?” Maria asked.
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“Sort of,” I said. “I’ve got a quickie. Shouldn’t take but a few weeks.” Charlene rolled her eyes and noticed the dudes staring at her. She held up three fingers. “Read between the lines, asshole.” Two fingers came down to reveal her middle one. Fuuuck you! They looked away quickly. “There goes the free beer,” I muttered. “Let’s go in the back and get away from these goons,” Charlene said. “They’ve been staring at me so much, I’m sore.” I couldn’t help but crack up at her. She was such a smartass. But Maria and I got up and followed her to the dressing room, where Charlene began to change. Maria asked, “What happened with your last dick, Tina?” “Oh, good God, he was one of the worst,” I said. “I don’t know if I even want to talk about it.” “Oh, come on,” she pleaded. “What happened?” “Well, for starters, he tried to jump off a bridge.” “Was he going to kill himself?” “If only,” I said and sighed. “No, he was just being a drama queen.” “God! Men are such pussies.” I drank the rest of my beer and said, “That’s the last time I breakup in a car.” “That is so pathetic,” Charlene said and stuck her finger in her mouth to indicate that she was about to get sick. I smiled at her then looked around the dressing room, then at an empty chair. “Did Sally quit again?” “Yeah,” Maria said. “She got religion. Again.” “She said the old devil made her do it,” Charlene said. “The devil made her quit her job?” I asked.
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They cracked up and Maria said, “No, he made her work here and… My God, I don’t know what’s up with that chick, all I know is she’s always about to lose it.” “Imagine quitting a job here!” Charlene scoffed. “We have girls lined up to work here. She’d better get her ass back here and make some money to save for her retirement.” Maria agreed silently. All of us had made a pact to save everything we could for our retirements. Then, we’d all go live in Florida together, like the Golden Girls. Sounded like a plan to me. Charlene turned suddenly and squealed, “Guess what! I got Earl’s number!” She gave a little celebration dance. I looked away. I’d forgotten about Charlene’s fascination with Earl/Farmer Joe. It didn’t bother me, per se. It’s just…no it didn’t bother me at all. I turned and smiled at her. “Cool. But isn’t he supposed to get your number? “Look, girl, if you’re gonna play the field, you gotta think like a man.” She tapped her head. “But not act like one,” Maria interjected. “Hell, no! I’d never do that!” Charlene agreed. Charlene would retire with us if she never found the right man, that is. We knew if she did, we’d be toast. “I can’t wait to check out his tanlines.” She winked at me. Maria and I burst out laughing. “Never heard that one before,” I said, wiping my eyes. I stopped laughing and decided there was no time like the present. I pulled out a few travel brochures on Europe from my purse. “Listen, y’all, here’s those brochures I told you about.” They each took one. Charlene stared at it as if she couldn’t read, then flipped it to the side. Maria smiled indulgently.
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“That one says you can see, like, twelve European countries in like, a week!” I was almost giddy. I calmed myself down and said seriously, “If you’re into that kind of thing, that is.” “Oh?” Maria said, pretending to be interested. “So what do you think?” I asked them. She shrugged. Charlene yawned. I think I got the hint. I guess I’d be traveling to Europe alone, if I ever wanted to go. Damn them anyway. “I’ve got a new joke for you, chiquita!” Maria exclaimed. “What’s the difference between a man and a pig?” Pause. “A pig don’t act like a man when it’s drunk!” She accentuated the punchline with a snap of her fingers. We all had a long, tired laugh for a while. “Wait a minute. I don’t get it…” Charlene considered, still laughing. “Is the man a pig or is the pig a man?” I asked her, “Is there a difference?”
Practicum The dick: Larry Bishop. Age: 29. Profession: Day trader. Hobbies: Playstation, racketball. Picking up chicks. Kinks: Has none. (!!!!) General weirdness: Premature ejaculator, thinks money is more
important than people. Would like to run for the Senate. (???) Favorite band: Whatever the ladies like. (!!) Favorite movie: Anything with Adam Sandler.
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Crime: Broke up with girlfriend via email then changed his
phone number. Now pretends he never knew her. They went out for two years. The punishment: Make him cry like a baby. The plan: The old bait and switch. Estimated time limit: Three weeks, tops. I put the list back in the envelope provided by Sue and stared at Larry’s apartment building. I’d been there since eight. It was now ten. When did he go to work?! Come out! Come out! Come out now! I didn’t have all day, you know? He finally came out about ten-thirty. Bastard. He was a medium-built guy dressed in an expensive suit. According to Sue, he’d just come into a lot of money and he spent it on expensive things, thinking, perhaps, that he’d have class by association. What an idiot. He walked over to his Porsche, got in and zoomed away. I took some notes then followed him for a few blocks until I decided it was time to get the show on the road. I pulled up beside him, captured his attention and winked at him, then jerked my head towards the light. How about a race? After a few moments of this, he got the point, finally, and revved up his engine. I’d never raced a Porsche, but I’d always wanted to, so this should be fun. The light changed and we burned rubber. He got an edge on me once, but I cut in front and pushed my car onto the shoulder and ripped past him, thusly, kicking his ass. I would have loved to see the look on his face! A few minutes after leaving him in the dust, I slowed and waited until I spotted him in the rearview mirror. Then I pulled over, got out and began to walk on the sidewalk. 58
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I smiled when I heard him cut his car off. It didn’t take a minute until he rushed up to me and exclaimed, “Uh, wow! That was some driving!” I stopped, turned and smiled at him. “I’ve done better. It needs a tune-up.” And it did. I’d have to call Red soon. “Oh, uh, yeah. Mine too. I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Larry.” I gave him a great big smile. This time I used the name “Lola.”
Larry and I did all the same things every young couple “in love” do. On our first date, he took me to Six Flags. Unfortunately, I don’t do rollercoasters, so I just stood around most of the time and watched him make an ass out of himself. He knew how to “win” stuffed bears. He knew the “right” seat to sit in on all the rides. He knew the “way” to dress a hotdog and how to “eat” cotton candy. He talked to me like I was a moron, “Don’t lick your fingers, ’cause it gets stuck.” Thanks for the tip, ass. He was such a pretentious dick. He told me he had a real Rolex. Like I give one shit. So what? I got a fake one! (Not really. But still. What an ass.) For someone with so much “money,” he was the cheapest prick ever. He took me to fast food restaurants because, “It reminds me of when I was a kid,” and to the park, “’Cause it’s so romantic.” (What the hell was romantic about the park? All the crackheads?!) I wished I’d never let Sue talk me into this. I gave mostly halfhearted attempts at making him fall for me. I almost wished he’d become uninterested and I wouldn’t have to see him again. Unfortunately, this just added fuel to the fire and by the third date, I was the woman for him and he told me he loved me. 59
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Which meant, I’d be able to drop him sooner rather than later.
Yee-sss! After a few weeks of this, Sue called me and asked for a progress report. Now, when they do this, you are obligated to give them the highlights only. And never say that he kissed you or wants to marry you or anything like that. It’s sometimes too much for them to handle. Just give ’em the facts and target a completion date. “I should be done by the eighth or so,” I told her. “Of May?” “No, of April.” “This month?” she asked. “Really?” “Yeah. Really.” “Oh,” she said. “That’s quick, huh?” “Yeah, sort of, but he’s easy.” She giggled. “He is and stupid.” She had that right. “I have a question to ask,” she said. “What if you see them again? I mean, after this is all over?” “I cross the street.” “Hmmm… What if they go psycho?” “I call the cops,” I said. “Look, most of them take the defeat pretty well. They’re prideful bastards. I don’t usually take any cases on that involve men with…how do you say? Issues?” “Oh, I see.” “Is there anything else? I really need to go.” “Oh, no, nothing,” she said. “So I’ll see you on the ninth?” “Yes.” “At the gym?” “No. Go to Bert’s Diner. It’s downtown, on Peachtree.” “Bert’s Diner… On Peachtree…” 60
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I knew she was writing it down. I asked, “That cool?” “Yeah, it’s cool. Thanks again for this, Tina. You are the best!” I smiled. “No problem whatsoever.” I hung up just as Charlene and Maria walked in, loaded down with bags of food. I sniffed. It smelled like fried chicken. Yummy! “Hey, chiquita!” Maria squealed. “Hey! What are you two doing?” “It’s slumber party night,” Charlene said and eyed me. “You didn’t forget, did you?” “Yeah, I kinda did,” I said. “I’m supposed to go out with Larry.” “So cancel it,” Charlene said and went into the kitchen. Maria winked at me and followed her. I picked the phone up then sat it back down. Now would be a good time as any to start cutting him loose. Yes, yes, yes! An hour later, after the party had officially started (and we were thoroughly stuffed with fried chicken and mashed potatoes and gravy) the phone started to ring. Charlene glared at it, then at me. “Why don’t you just answer it?!” “Because I have…disappeared for while…” She rolled her eyes. After fourteen rings, the phone stopped ringing. “Thank God,” Maria said. “I was beginning to think that guy didn’t have a life or something.” We cracked up and sat around my coffee table. I pulled out a deck of cards and Charlene got the poker chips. “Who’s the dealer tonight?” Charlene asked. Maria said, “Tina can do it.” Again. They always made me deal. But I kinda liked it. We mostly played Black Jack. And drank. And had a really good time doing it. 61
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“21! I got 21!” Maria squealed. “That’s, like, your fourth tonight,” Charlene said, then turned to me. “Are you giving her that?” “Hell, no,” I said and clapped my hands like a professional. “Why would I?” She studied my hands with one raised eyebrow. “Charlene,” I said. “It’s not like the chips are worth anything.” “Oh!” Maria said suddenly. “I think I might have your next client.” “Mare, I’m off for a month after this dick. Remember?” She waved me off with one hand. “No, this guy deserves it more than any other. He’s a complete dick. He should get rewards or something.” “What’d he do?” I asked. “Is he the one Cindy went out with?” Charlene asked. “Yes! That’s the one.” “Tina, you gotta hear this one.” “Okay, now I’m curious.” Maria turned to face me, pushed her hair out of her face and held up her hands, palms facing out. “This guy, I think his name’s Ed, was going out with Cindy for like, forever.” “Does she work at Polk Salad Annie’s?” I asked. “No,” Charlene said. “She works at Good Gourmet.” “Since when have you been going into Good Gourmet?” “Oh, I got this idea, right? If I’m going to cruise for rich, available, attractive men, why not pick up one that can cook, too?” I thought about that. She had a point. I said, “Makes sense to me.” “I knew her from when I worked there years ago,” Maria said. “So, Charlene and I were in there the other day and she just started talking.” 62
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“Like we were her therapists or something,” Charlene added and lit a cigarette. I took it out of her mouth and puffed on it. She shook her head, lit another one and muttered, “I thought you were quitting.” “Well—” I began. “Listen!” Maria half-yelled. “Let me tell the story. So, they’ve been going out for, like, forever, right? And he’s getting a little bored.” “They all do,” Charlene said. “And Cindy’s hot, you should see her, Tina. She could definitely rack up at Polk Salad Annie’s.” “Okay,” I said and took a hit off the cigarette. “Go on, Maria.” “Then he starts acting weird.” “Weird how?” “Like one day, he’s happy and the next he’s not.” “Oh,” I said. “I get it.” “Yeah,” she said. “So Cindy just thinks it’s a phase and all that but one day they get into this big fight and he tells her he wants some space.” “Jerkass,” I said, shaking my head. “By they way, why is this girl telling you all this stuff?” “We used to be good friends until she hooked up with Ed, then she went all bubbly-headed. Don’t you remember me talking about her?” I thought about it. Actually no, I didn’t, but I nodded in the affirmative so she’d go ahead and get to the meat of the story. “So, she agrees to it, not really thinking they’d go through with it,” she continued. “And a week or so later, she tells him she’s going to visit her parents in Virginia.” “What exactly has she agreed to?” I asked. “To having some space from each other,” Charlene said. “Oh,” I said. “Continue, Maria.” 63
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“Well, she decides to come back a little early to make up with him and she comes in and catches him with a hooker!” “A hooker!” I exclaimed. She nodded. “Yes! Can you believe that? Cindy just freaks out about the whole thing, pulls the hooker off him by the head of the hair and starts beating the crap out of him!” “Wow.” “She finally gets calmed down and asks why he did that, you know, with a hooker. And he says, ‘I just always wanted to try it.’” Charlene and I glanced sideways at each other. We rolled our eyes. “But I thought she had agreed to some space,” I said. “She did, that’s the point,” Maria said. “Until he basically did something without her permission. They weren’t supposed to have sex with the other people. He betrayed her trust by doing that and that’s why she left him, even though he got on hands and knees and begged her to stay.” “So she left him?” I asked and was ignored. “And that’s why you should bust his balls!” Charlene spouted. “He basically cheated on her and that ain’t right.” “Y’all listen,” I said. “Did she leave him?” Maria and Charlene nodded at the same time. I hesitated before I spoke. “Y’all, she left him.” “Right,” Maria said, nodding. “She should have!” I tried again, “Listen to me. She left him. That’s not the same thing.” She thought for a minute. “Oh, damn it. You’re right! You’re not going to do it, then?” “How can I? It wouldn’t make sense for both of us to break his heart, now would it?”
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“I suppose not,” Maria said sadly. “I just thought you could help her out. Cindy really freaked out about everything, too. It was months ago and she’s still fuming.” “Well, wouldn’t you be?” Charlene asked. “I mean, it’s like this: You agree to do a certain thing, then you turn around and your boyfriend is having sex with a hooker! That’s some serious shit.” “The sad thing is,” Maria said. “She thought he was going to be her husband. They were going to be married and everything after this. She just thought they were going through a bad patch.” “She totally flipped,” Charlene continued. “She threw all his stuff out the window, ripped up his old comics. Sold his dog. All kinds of stuff.” “She sold his dog?” I asked. Maria nodded sadly. “It was a Mastiff, too.” I’d never even met this person but she seemed kinda like a nut to me. But then again, it wasn’t me that went through that. But I couldn’t help but wonder, Why? Why didn’t she forgive and forget and move on? “Maybe she was too hard on him,” I said. Their collective mouths dropped open. “No, hear me out,” I said and sat up. “I understand where this chick is coming from and all and I hate that she got hurt. But, the thing is, you have to move on and forgive. She’s only holding herself back.” “Look who’s talking,” Charlene muttered. “What does that mean?” I asked. “Nothing,” she said. “Nothing at all.” I felt myself go on the defensive. I willed it away, but it came back anyway. “Look, what I do is a service to women who’ve been heartbroken. They’ve been totally dicked over by these guys who didn’t even care about them in the first place.” 65
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“No,” Charlene said. “I think it’s great, I always have. I have no problem with it whatsoever.” “But what if…” Maria began. “What if what?” I asked. “All I’m saying is what if you fall in love with someone?” “That’s not going to happen,” I told her. “But what if it does?” Maria wanted to know. “It’s not gonna!” “Why not?” Charlene asked. “Because I don’t want it to.” “Exactly, which means, you haven’t moved on,” Maria said and folded her arms. “You’re so full of it!” I said, shaking my head. “You’re being defensive.” “Maybe I am,” I huffed. “But with me, it’s different. My dick didn’t have sex with a hooker. I could forgive that. He had a wife!” “How many years ago has that been?” Maria asked. I turned to her. “You’re still in love with your ex.” “I am not!” “Well, why haven’t you found someone new?” I asked. “I’m not looking, that’s why!” “Well, neither am I!” We glared at each other for a long moment. Then the phone started to ring. Charlene gave me a little Umm! and got up and answered it. “Hello. Oh. Hold on.” She handed the phone to me. “It’s your boyfriend.” I glared at her and took the phone. “Hello?” “Where are you?” It was Larry. Of course! I shook my fist at Charlene. I asked, “What do you mean?” 66
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“You were supposed to meet me,” he whined. “Sorry, I forgot.” “Are you having a party?” he asked. There was accusation in his voice, and hurt. Good sign. Good sign. I was suddenly glad he called. A few more days and I could get rid of him. “No! That’s just the TV,” I muttered. “Listen, I have to go.” I hung up and turned to Charlene, who was squealing with laughter. “I ought to beat the hell out of you!” She called, “Hey,” then kissed two of her fingers, turned halfway on her heel and slapped the fingers on her ass. Kiss my ass! I rolled my eyes. “I repeat, I should beat the hell out of you.” She pranced around and grinned. “But ya ain’t gonna, are ya?” “No. But I should.” ♥♥♥♥♥ The break-up with Larry didn’t really go as planned. I met him at the Burger King downtown. After I let him buy me a Whopper Junior value meal, I dropped the bomb. He hooted and hollered and didn’t give one shit about making a fuss. Sometimes, it’s like that. After he got done with me, I wished I’d sent him a “Dear Larry” note.
“Dear Larry, You’re an asshole. Goodbye, Lola.” So, I left, got into my car and peeled out. He followed me and through my rear-view mirror, I watched as he got into his car, 67
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leaving the door open. A car whizzed by and took the door off. Ouch. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the worst of it. He got out of the car, shook his fist at the departing car and then another car came in and nailed him. He flew about twenty feet in the air. It was not pretty. I stayed until the ambulance arrived, then called the hospital to check to make sure he had…survived. They said he was in intensive care but would be fine after a few operations and some physical therapy. I knew then and there that I had to find another career. Me and guilt don’t get along too good. A few days later, Sue and I met outside the gym again. She wasn’t the least bit phased by Larry’s accident. Between puffs of her new cigarette habit, she told me how great I was. “I don’t know how you did it, but I can tell you one thing, I’m glad you did it!” She leaned across the bench and kissed my cheek. “That asshole’s getting his just desserts!” I tried to smile at her. “Well, glad I could help. Be seeing you.” “Hey, wait! I’ve got this friend—” “What did I tell you? I’m off now.” She nodded, understanding. “Right. Sorry.” I started off. “Hey, you know what you are? You’re the Patron Saint of the Broken Hearted!” I couldn’t help but smile. This girl was whacked. I told her, “Or the Dirty Harry.” “Totally! Was that whole accident thing planned?” “Nope.” “Divine intervention,” she said with a big old happy grin. 68
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“I guess.” I waved at her on the way to my car. Maybe it was divine intervention and not my fault. I didn’t tell him to follow me out and you are supposed to look both ways on the street. Yeah. It was just a close call. I wouldn’t let it happen again— ever. No sense in throwing out something that works perfectly for me over a little accident. I mean, he did survive. Right? Right.
Hang Fire It is not only nice, but necessary to take vacations. Vacations give us time to be free and do as we please. Everything can’t be all work, work, work. If it is, then we’d be all crazy, crazy, crazy. I decided on a month and was thinking about going to Europe alone as Charlene and Maria couldn’t—or wouldn’t—get off work. But as I looked at the brochures, I knew I’d want to share that experience with someone else. And I didn’t know anyone over there, either. I couldn’t just walk up to people and ask them to show me around, could I? No, I couldn’t. I didn’t want to be one of those dumb American tourists. I wanted to be one of those cool American tourists, the kind that looked like they’d done it all a hundred times and knew where everything was and how to ride the trains and get around by themselves and all that. I wondered what Red was doing. I was just about to pick up the phone when I heard a Thump! outside my door. As soon as I opened the door, I saw a man in a full body cast sitting in a wheelchair. How the hell did he navigate the stairs? But more importantly, who the hell was he?
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He was attempting to ring the bell with his arm that was encased in a split. When he saw me, his eyes just lit up. What the hell? “There you are, baby.” I screamed. I couldn’t help it. The whole scene was totally freaking me out. Who was this? And what did he want from me? He looked so pathetic. He reached out towards me with difficulty, his arm bobbed up as he did so. I jumped back then leaned in. Oh, no. There was no way—no way! “Larry?” I asked. “Is that you?” He slobbered, “Yeah, it’s me.” Well, it made sense. But how did he find my apartment? I never, ever let any of them know where I live. Ever! I’d be willing to bet he hired someone to watch me. Be warned that they sometimes do this. “How in the hell did you…” I studied him, then the stairs. The poor bastard…oh, bless his heart. Yeah, I felt bad. Real bad. Damn it! I hated it when stuff like this happened. I shook it off and found my professional distance, then walked back into the living room and picked up the phone. This was a job for Red. Larry was yelling, “I’ve told everyone about you! My mom wants to meet you!” Oh, good God. A few more years, I told myself, and I quit this
line of work for good. After a call to Red, who promised to come over right away, I called the hospital. Larry’s brother showed up just after Red and said, “We thought he was asleep and went downstairs for lunch. When we came back, he was gone. I don’t know how in the hell he did it, either.”
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I stared at Larry. He was so drugged out of his head, he probably didn’t know either. Red, with the assistance of Larry’s brother, was now trying to figure out how they could get him back down the stairs. Charlene and I stood in the doorway and watched. Larry was crying and whimpering. It was a bit too much. I almost wanted to tell him I’d take him back. Almost. “I love her so much,” he slobbered. His brother slapped him upside the head. “Owwww!” he wailed. Red and his brother glanced at each other then tried to pull him away from the door. With great difficulty, they picked up the wheelchair and started down the stairs with him. Larry was still crying. “It hurts so much. Noooo!” He began to struggle. “No! I’m not leaving!” Red told him, “Calm down, boy.” Then he turned to the brother. “How the hell did he get up here?” “Who the hell knows?” Charlene said, “Service elevator.” Oh. Yeah. Service elevator. I’d forgotten about that. I sighed and watched as the wheelchair tipped a little as he struggled to get out. “Uh, y’all,” I said. “Why don’t you use the service elevator instead?” They nodded, seemed to agree. Only problem was, they were at the top of the stairs. Red yelled, “Whoa! Watch it!” Then all of a sudden, Larry went tumbling out of the wheelchair and bouncing down the stairs one by one. We watched in horror. Thump, thump, thump…
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As he fell, “Ahh…ohhhh…OWWWWWW!” He landed with a resounding thud! Charlene and I winced. A moment of silence as everyone contemplated what to do next. Red took charge. “Ah, hell, he ought to be alright. They got him bound up pretty good.” They retrieved him and put him back into the wheelchair, then rolled him out. Even Charlene felt bad. “That poor bastard,” she muttered. “What the hell did you do to him?” I waved my hands around dramatically. “It was an accident, I swear. I didn’t do anything.” She nodded at little. “Then he’s just screwed up, right?” “Right,” I said and dropped my hands. “You got anything to eat?” she asked. “Some donuts,” I said. “Want one?” She nodded and walked into the kitchen. I followed her and we ate donuts until Red entered the kitchen a little later. He shook his head at me. “What the hell happened with that guy?” “I didn’t do it!” I said, getting frustrated. “It was an accident!” “I know that, but shit, girl,” he said and grabbed a donut. “That’s some major damage.” “I know, I know,” I said and put my head in my hands. “I feel so bad about it.” He stared at me before replying, “Well, he should have looked both ways before he got into his car. That’s a busy street! Downtown is always crazy.” I nodded feebly, feeling so bad that I wished the floor would swallow me up. I mean, if I could have taken it back, I would have. Red smiled at Charlene. She just stared back. He shuffled his feet, then leaned over and gave her a small peck on the cheek. She
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gave him a hellacious look and wiped her face off with the back of her hand. Unfazed, he sat down at the table with us. I almost cracked up. I didn’t. But they were too funny. I thought they’d make a great couple. “So, what have my two favorite girls been up to?” he asked. “The usual,” I said. “Hey, could you take a look at my sink in the bathroom while you’re here? It’s clogging again.” “Girl, I told you to put some Drano down that pipe every once in a while.” He pulled a wrench out of his back pocket and left the room, muttering to himself. He came back in to grab another donut. “Do you remember that time I helped you break-up?” Charlene asked. Red stopped in his tracks. “Yeah, that was classic,” I said. “If only they could all go that smooth.” “What did you do?” Red asked. We grinned secretively at each other. Then, I told him, knowing he’d get a big kick out if it, and I embellished, “It was like this, I arranged for Charlene to help me by pretending to be my newfound love. We met him in a hotel room.” “Yeah?” he asked eagerly. “So, she and I are on the bed—” “Oh!” Charlene rolled her eyes. “And we’re just messing around a little. The guy comes in with a bouquet of flowers and—” “It was chocolates,” Charlene corrected. “No, it wasn’t.” “Yes, it was,” she said. “Cause they were sooooo good we ate the whole box.” 73
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“Yeah, you’re right.” I turned to Red. “They were very good chocolates. Godiva, I think.” “I don’t care about that!” Red exclaimed. “Tell me the other stuff.” I giggled and continued, “So, he comes in, sees us and stops short. He says, ‘Honey!’ I’m like, ‘For God’s sake, shut the door!’ and Charlene says, ‘We’d like a little privacy please!’” “No,” Charlene interjected. “I said, ‘Get out of here!’” I considered. “Yeah, that’s what she said.” “And then?” Red asked. “And then he left and we ate chocolates.” He stared at me wanting me to continue. I wriggled my eyebrows at him. He dropped his head, seemed disappointed. Charlene said, “Of course, the next time we tried it, Tina said, ‘Honey, I’m in love with a woman!’ and the guy said, ‘Hell, I don’t care!’ and plopped in right between us.” I eyed her and she me. We grinned. I said, just to get Red, “That was the best break-up ever.” “Damn right it was,” she agreed, going along with me to get to Red. Red grinned. He liked that story better, I could tell. “So, what else happened?” he asked. “We had a threesome,” Charlene scoffed. “What do you think? We played Monopoly or something?” He stared at her for a long moment, then said, “Ah, hell, y’all are messin’ with me.” We winked at him. He grinned sheepishly and said, “Ain’t ’cha?” “You’ll never know,” I teased. But, yeah, we were. Aren’t women sometimes evil to men? Yeah, we are and we love being evil to them. Sometimes. 74
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He squirmed a little, but neither of us recanted anything. “Oh! I got something for you two! Be right back!” He jumped up and ran out of the room. “Wonder what he’s going to do?” Charlene asked slyly, giving me a knowing look. “Oh, shut up!” I hollered but the image of Red spanking the monkey came swiftly. I tried to push it away but it kept coming back. Strong. Ugh! “Damn it, Charlene!” I yelled at her and shook myself. She shrugged. “Anyway, I called Earl.” Okay, now Red was replaced by Earl and he looked hot. He was working on my car, without a shirt on. That was better. I said, “Oh yeah? How’d that go?” “Well, he’s busy as a bee can be, it seems,” she said. “The son of a bitch.” The fantasy of Earl momentarily took over my brain. In it, I walk up the car, looking hot, and ask him if he needs any help. Then, without a word, he comes over to me and pulls my head to him with one hand. I shiver in delight as he gives me a big old, wet kiss that sends goosebumps all over my body. “Tina!” I jumped back to reality. “What?” “Earl hasn’t called back.” That’s because he’s too busy kissing me. Oh, baby… I stopped the fantasy and stared at her. She glared at me. I said, “Don’t worry about him.” “He could be the one, though!” He was definitely the one giving it to me in my fantasy. Umm… Damn it. It had been too long since I’d been laid. She glared at me and tapped her foot on the floor. “What makes you think he’s the one?” I asked to appease her. 75
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“He has everything I want in a man.” She counted on her fingers, “He’s famous, he’s cute and he’s loaded!” Qualities every man should possess. I rolled my eyes and told her, “He could be a wife beater.” “Earl?” she scoffed. “You obviously don’t know him at all.” “Charlene, I’ve never met him.” I added to myself, Officially. She shrugged and Red rushed back in and thrust two black nylon jackets into our hands. He was very pleased with himself. I studied the jacket with one raised eyebrow. It was a Team Goodman racing jacket. Earl’s racing team. Not really my style, but I appreciated the thought. “Oh, thank you, honey!” I exclaimed with a big smile and studied it some more. The team mascot was a big red hounddog with devil horns that breathed fire. Embroidered: The Hellhound. Nice. (Not). Charlene asked, “What’s the Hellhound?” “That’s Earl’s nickname. His racing name.” “Oh,” I said and smiled at him, wondering how I could get away with not wearing it. He said, “It’ll keep you warm. You like yours Charlene?” She shrugged and gave him a little smile. He smiled back at her, entranced. I felt so bad for him. He would do anything for her and she could care less. Sometimes, it works out like that. Unfortunately. “What can you tell me about Earl?” She stared back at him then snapped her fingers in his face. “Wake up!” He shook himself and sat down. “I saved his life once.” “You did?” Now she was fascinated. “Well, sorta.” He leaned back, lit a cigar and stared at her. “When we were younger, we use to go frog gigging—” “What’s frog gigging?” I asked. 76
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“You get a spear and you find a pond and you…gig for frogs. For their legs.” “Sick!” I shouted. “It’s a delicacy,” he told me.“Tastes like chicken.” “Red, have you ever noticed that everything tastes like chicken?” I asked. “Yeah,” he said. “Even chicken does.” We cracked up. Charlene snapped, “Who cares? Tell me the story.” He wiped at his eyes and continued, “Anyway, we were out late one night and it was all rainy and Earl got too close to the edge of the pond and fell in.” Charlene gasped. I said, “Bull-shit.” “Well, actually he passed out drunk and fell face first in a mud puddle. But I rolled him over. Saved his life, yep.” He nodded several times. Charlene was now awe-struck. “You are so cool, Red.” Red grinned at her and pulled out some tickets. “Nah, I was just more sober than him.” I cracked up. “So, I guess y’all be joining me at the race tomorrow?” I smiled and nodded. I was officially on vacation. I loved that feeling, too.
The Hellhound Even if the racetrack in Atlanta was the place to be, I didn’t see the big deal. It was overcrowded, hot and loud. The track was jampacked with people from every walk of life—rich man, poor man, 77
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middleman. People even set up camp outside the track in recreational vehicles and in tents. It was like Woodstock or something. Definitely a subculture thing going on here. It was a bit maddening. Red let us stand around in the pit with him while he and his crew prepared Earl Goodman/Farmer Joe’s car for the race. We were supposed to be impressed or something. I’d never been so bored in all of my life. “When the hell is this thing gonna start?” I bitched. “I’m gettin’ hot out here!” Red said, “Tina, when the big hand gets on the three and the little hand on the twelve, it’ll start.” “Alright, smartass,” I warned him. “Come on, honey,” Charlene said. “Let’s get a hotdog.” We heard Red yell, “Bring me back one, too!” “Good grief!” she yelled back. “We look like waitresses or something?” He stared at us for an instant then ducked under the hood of the car. “Charlene—” I started. “Tina, I am not listening to that shit today. I gotta keep my focus.” “What?” “Earl’s gonna be here and I need to concentrate on that, not on Red.” I studied her. Her “focus?” Whatever. “Fine,” I muttered and we fought our way to the concession stand in silence. Of course, the line for hot dogs was about two miles long. Charlene started to squirm. “What’s wrong with you?” I asked. “I got to pee, bad.” 78
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“So go.” She shook her head. “I hate public restrooms! They’re nasty!” “Well, pee in your pants, then.” “Alright!” she hissed and made her way through the crowd and towards the bathroom. I sighed and turned my attention to the menu, which hung over the top of the stand. I definitely wanted a beer, too, and maybe some fries. Mmm…were those funnel cakes I smelled? Just then, I heard this incredibly annoying voice, “Lolita! Hey, Lolita!” I knew who it was even before I turned around. The dick: Joe. Age: 36. Profession: Perpetually unemployed. (“Work is for suckers!”) Hobbies: Harassing people in public (or so it seems.) Kinks: Was once caught looking in a neighbors’ window.
(Peeping Tom Syndrome). General weirdness: “Shares” house with parents. Favorite band: Korn. Favorite movie: Clerks. Crime: Kept promising to “pop” the question “as soon as I’m ready.” Broke heart instead. Punishment: Crush ’em like a bug. The plan: Get in and get out. Estimated time limit: Two weeks. Ignatius J. Reilly had nothing on this guy. He was bad, bad news. And some of them are, mind you. I groaned inwardly. He stepped in close and said, “Remember me? It’s Joe!”
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“No, I don’t remember you,” I replied curtly and turned back around. “We went out and you…” He was starting to get agitated. “You dumped me. Why haven’t you called me?” “Because we broke up, asshole.” I started to walk away, but lo and behold, he grabbed my arm and twisted it, hard. I tried not to grimace in pain, but it hurt like hell. “This isn’t the time nor the place, dipshit,” I hissed. “Now let go of my arm.” “You broke my heart, you worthless bitch!” “If you don’t let go of me, I’ll break something else!” I struggled against him, but he wasn’t about to let loose. Why, oh why hadn’t I signed up for that self-defense class at the YMCA?
Why? Now, you may be faced with these kinds of situations from time to time. What should you do? If you feel he’s going to really hurt you, make a scene, yell, scream, whatever you have to do to get away from him. If all else fails, kick him in the nuts. As hard as you
can. I was just about to do that when, from the corner of my eye, I saw a man making his way towards us. Then he said, “Hey, buddy, leave the lady alone.” I glanced over. Joe did too. His eyes filled with contempt. My eyes filled with… Oh nevermind! “You suck, Goodman,” he hissed. “You’re not my favorite driver and you never will be!” I was still a little ticked at Farmer Joe’s treachery so I didn’t look over at him, but if I had, I’d noticed that he looked good. Maybe just a little peek. Yeah. He looked fine. Why did he have to be so damn cute? 80
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“I don’t give one shit whose fan you happen to be,” Earl said. “You’re hurting the lady.” Joe stepped up to Earl, pulling me with him, like a Neanderthal. At least he didn’t have me by the hair of the head. The asshole! “She’s my girl, get it?” he said. “I am not your girl, number one.” I finally got my arm back. “And, number two, I don’t need rescuing.” Earl nodded at me but didn’t take his eyes off Joe. Fine, let them have at it. I looked around for Charlene. She, of course, was nowhere in sight. “You heard her, Goodman. Scram!” A beer-bellied guy who was drinking a tallboy Budweiser and wearing a dirty “Team Goodman” t-shirt stepped up to Earl’s defense. It should be noted that, in racing, loyalty to your favorite driver is paramount. “I’ll get him Earl! You rule!” He reared back to punch Joe, but Earl stopped him. Joe’s snakelike eyes narrowed even more and he stepped up to Earl and pushed on his chest. Earl pushed back. By this time, a crowd had formed. I shifted my feet and tried not to look at Earl or at anyone else. Some chick whispered to me, “Boy, he looks good today, don’t he?” I shrugged like I didn’t care. But, yeah, he did look good. “Goodman,” Joe hissed. “You need to learn how to mind your own damn business.” He took a swing at him. Earl ducked, came back up and popped him one on the jaw. I gasped. Joe spun around on one foot then went down in one second. I’m not one for that male chivalry crap, but this did, indeed, impress the hell out of me. Everyone in the crowd cheered for Earl.
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He said to Joe, “You okay?” Then he pushed him with his foot. Joe groaned. “That’s what I thought.” I stared at him. Then, like a dumbstruck idiot, I started smiling. “How about you?” he asked me. “You okay?” “I…uh…yeah, thanks… No one’s ever done anything…I mean…wow!” Must…stop…smiling… “No problem.” He was smiling back at me. “I’m Earl Goodman. I don’t think we’ve officially been introduced.” I stared at him. Okay, I wasn’t mad anymore but I really should
stop smiling! Joe tried to stand, then groaned, “I’ll get you for this, Goodman! Just you wait and see.” Two security guards picked Joe up off the floor and hauled his ass away. They apologized to Earl for his bad behavior. “No problem, boys,” he said and nodded at them. “Aren’t you supposed to be racing in a little while?” I asked. He nodded and steered me away from the crowd. “Red wanted me to find you and Charlene. Where’s she at?” “She’s…” I didn’t want to say, Taking a pee. I just nodded. Stop smiling. Stop it! Stop it now! “We’ll give her a minute,” he said. I nodded like an idiot. Up and down. Good girl. Up and down. What the hell was wrong with me? I nodded and played with my hair and couldn’t think of a damn thing to say. I’d just stare at the ground then. I noticed he was looking down at the ground too. We looked up at the same time. Aww! Would you look at that! I mean… What the hell was wrong with me!? “Well…” he said, then pointed. “Ah, there’s Pete. He’ll take you and Charlene up to the box seats.” “Oh. Oh. Right.” 82
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“Nice to meet you again, Tina,” he said, then disappeared through the crowd. I finally stopped smiling ♥♥♥♥♥ The race was totally cool. I never knew I’d enjoy it so much. Earl, of course, kicked ass. He zipped in and out the entire race, pissing off all of the other drivers. He was a damn good driver. The announcer said, “Well, it looks like Earl Goodman, a native of Meigs County, Tennessee is givin’ ’em hell again!” That was true. You could just tell that all of the other drivers were pissed off about it, too. “They don’t call him the Hellhound for nothin’!” Apparently not. I watched Earl putting the pedal to the metal. Another driver to his right tried to push him off the track. Earl nearly lost control of his car. Just in time, he got it back and made a quick cut in front of the other driver, thusly taking the lead again. Damn. I mean, damn! That was some driving. And I do appreciate a good driver. The checkered flag was waved just as Earl’s car ran under it. He had won the thing. And, more importantly, he looked like he had a good time doing it. I glanced over to the side stands, where the crowd was going ecstatic. Everyone loved this guy. There had to be something wrong with him. The announcer put it all in perspective, “THE HELLHOUND HAS DONE IT AGAIN!” The crowd was jumping up and down in excitement. But so what? Charlene and I were, too. (Jumping up and down, that is. But after that many beers, who wouldn’t be?) I was surprised that I 83
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actually cared that he won. Huh. But, like I said, a good driver has always impressed me. Yeah. Right. Moving right along… Red mustered up his courage to ask Charlene out. “So Charlene, you wanna go to the victory party with me?” She replied, “I’m going with Earl. Sorry.” I stared at her. She was? Red hung his head as Charlene went off to congratulate Earl. I watched her go. He glanced over at me. I patted his back. “How about if I go with you, Red?” I asked him. “I don’t have a date.” He smiled his thanks and looked towards Charlene and Earl. I, on the other hand, looked away.
Tempted I was almost going to skip the party, but I’d promised Red I’d go. After we’d been there an hour or so, Charlene and Earl came in—together. She was making a bit of a spectacle of herself, clinging to his arm and smiling up at him. I ignored her and headed to the bar. “Jack and coke,” I told the bartender. He sat one in front of me, then said, “This one’s on the house if you give me your number.” Oh, yeah. Sure. Why not? I pretended to consider, then said, “Oh, I don’t have a phone.” He grew embarrassed and scurried off. Jerk. It was an open bar, for God’s sake! I sipped my drink and checked my watch. I’d been here almost an hour, which meant I could leave in a little while. I’m just not
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much of a party girl. Sorry. I’d rather stay home with a good book or rent a DVD or something. Then someone was whispering in my ear, “Well, well, Miss Tina Louise.” I knew who it was. I felt my whole body stiffen and my heart began to beat rapidly. What the hell was up with that? I put on my cool face and turned to him. He sat there grinning at me. He was dressed casually in a pair of black slacks and a very nice white, button down shirt. He looked too damn good. I eyed his arms, which were still hidden from sight. He could have worn a wife-beater shirt so I could see them. Maybe it was just as well. I looked away and said, “Hi, Farmer Joe.” “Am I ever gonna live that down?” “Apparently not.” “Oh, well, I’ve been called worse.” He grinned at me. “Shot?” “Not yet, but I will be.” We laughed quietly at my itty-bitty joke then Earl motioned for a bottle of Tequila, some limes and some salt. I watched as he prepared the shots, hoping no one saw us together. Charlene would give me hell over this. “Here’s mud in your eye,” he said and handed me a glass. I threw it back and slammed mine on the bar first. He seemed impressed. “A girl who can hold her liquor! Now that I can appreciate.” I giggled (surprising myself) and said, “Who said I could hold my liquor?” He smiled widely at me, then leaned in and whispered, “I hate these clubs. You wanna get some food or something?” You presumptuous bastard! Of course, I don’t want to get some “food” with you! What made you think that? Exactly what type of food are we talking about, just in case, you know, I… Oh, screw it. 85
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I summoned my courage and said, “You’re with my friend, Earl. Her name’s Charlene?” “Charlene? Oh, no, we’re not together.” I stood. “Well, you better tell her that.” I took off. I knew he was watching me walk away. I straightened up and tried to take all the wiggle out. I looked around, not knowing where to go, so I headed to the bathroom and checked my makeup. Charlene bounced in suddenly. I straightened up and turned on the water like I was washing my hands. “Hey, babydoll,” she purred. “Hey,” I replied weakly. She nodded at me and leaned against the sink, taking off her beautiful high heels. They were slender, black and strappy. And about four inches. I could tell they cost a fortune. No wonder she was always hitting me up for her rent money. She slammed one against the sink and said, “Bad shoe!” “What’s wrong with you?” “These damn shoes,” she said and began to rub her foot. “They’re nice,” I said and leaned over to get a better look. “Where’d you get ’em?” “Becky’s,” she said and winced as she rubbed. “They’re cool.” “Here,” she said and thrust them at me. “You can have them.” I stared at the shoes. “Really?” She nodded and turned to the mirror and began to primp. “Got any gum?” I handed her a pack out of my purse. She grinned. “I’m gonna need this. I’ve just about got him hook, line and sucker.”
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I tried not to cringe. I leaned against the sink and said, “Uh, Charlene, listen—” She put a finger to my lips. “He’s waiting!” And she pranced away—barefoot!—without a second look in my direction. I stared after her. Now, this was sticky. Great! Two very tall chicks came in just then. They stopped and stared at me, holding the shoes. One of them leaned over and said, “Hey, those are nice.” “Here,” I said and handed them to her, then made a hasty exit. I was going home. I hurried outside and started towards my car. But then something stopped me dead in my tracks. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. It was a thing of beauty—a ’69 Boss 429 Mustang. My God! Where did this thing come from?! There were only, like, 500 made! I hadn’t noticed Earl was sitting inside watching me. Wouldn’t that just figure? “Hey, lady,” he said. I jumped. “Oh! I didn’t know you were in there!” He got out and smiled at me. I didn’t smile back. “Nice car, Earl.” “Wanna take it for a spin?” he asked and produced the keys from his pocket. “Oh, no, that’s okay. Well, see ya!” I walked away quickly. He caught up with me in no time. “Where you goin’? It’s still early.” Okay. Time to set this guy straight. I turned to him and tapped two fingers on my palm, “Two words,” I said then pointed to my ear, “Sounds like,” I pointed at him, “Fuck off.” He roared with laughter. “I like that. Where’d you learn it?” “It’s a game, Earl.”
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“What kind of game?” he teased, then saw the look on my face. “Come on, I’m just teasing. What’s wrong with you?” “Look, I appreciate what you did for me today, okay? But, apparently, I’m not interested.” “I was just being friendly.” Oh. Right! No guys are ever just “friendly” to women. Come on! I wasn’t born yesterday, mister! “It’s like this,” I told him. “Charlene is my best friend.” He stared at me in confusion then gave me a good-natured grin. I almost wanted to knock on the side of his head and say, “Hello? Anyone home?” Instead, I turned on my heel and walked away. He followed me, undaunted. I turned to give him a piece of my mind, but when I saw him standing there, holding up his keys to me, all the anger drained out me. “I know you want to take it for a spin,” he said. He was right, I did. And that’s all I wanted from him. At least that’s what I told myself. Of course, I felt bad afterwards. During? No. But afterwards, yes. But that was the end of it. Plan A was in effect. I would never see him again. Cross my heart.
Pot Wisdom Maria and I went shopping the next day and came back to my pad around four in the afternoon exhausted. Sitting in front of my door was a big bouquet of flowers. I had a feeling who sent them, too. I tried to ignore them, but Maria, who is always overjoyed at the sight of the flowers, squealed, “Let me! Let me read the card!” 88
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She always got a big kick out of this. So I let her. She pulled it out and read, “Next time, I’ll be Rocky if you’ll be Janet.” I tried not to smile. Last night, Earl and I had gotten into an indepth discussion about The Rocky Horror Picture Show, which we both loved. So…yeah… “Is this some kind of sick joke?” she asked. I shrugged and opened my door. “Shall we?” She carried the flowers in for me, set them on the coffee table and we got down to business. I don’t get high that often, but when I do, I like to get high with Maria. We have developed this dialogue that is affectionately known as “Pot Wisdom.” It’s profound, it’s intense, it’s insightful and it’s usually quite stupid, which means, it only makes sense to us. And sometimes, even we can’t figure it out. Yet, at the time, we think we’re of Shakespearean intelligence. Did you know Shakespeare used to smoke weed and get high? It’s true. Got his creative juices flowing. And you know how creative that dude was. (I don’t know whether this is true or not, but it’s something Maria and I discussed during a session and have since come to accept as true.) A little later, Maria and I were seated, passing a joint and sipping red wine. Travis—the rock band, not the guy—was playing quietly in the background. Everything was so…mellow. “Maria,” I said. “Do you ever think about…love?” “Yeah, sometimes,” she said. “But since Jake, I don’t… What was the question again?” I considered. What was the question? I couldn’t remember, so I stared at the flowers on the coffee table. I stopped myself from thinking about Earl. But then I thought, Why not tell her? She’s a romantic at heart, not hard like me and Charlene. But that’d be the
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reason she’d disapprove. Or she’d tell me to ride off into the sunset with him, which we all know was not going to happen. Might as well keep it to myself. I glanced over at her. She had her eyes closed. I nudged her. “You asleep?” “Yes.” I began to giggle. Her eyes fluttered open. “What is it?” “Nothing. Do you know that if you keep your eyes closed, you can’t see where you’re going?” She nodded. “That’s true.” “Do you know that if you open your eyes, you can see where you’re going?” “I heard about that.” I nodded. “It’s true. I read it in a magazine.” She muttered, “If you wish to see no bad, keep your eyes closed.” “Maria, that’s deep!” She nodded, sitting up. “But then again, if you keep them closed, you’ll miss the good, too.” “Yeah!” I was shaking now, thinking I should write that shit down. It was too good. “I talk to my dog,” she admitted. “Go on,” I said, hanging on her every word. She gets so deep when we smoke pot. “I talk to him, but he doesn’t talk back,” she muttered, staring off into space. She turned back to me. “But I think he understands.” I nodded. “You have a dog?” She considered. “Not for a long time.” Charlene burst into the room and stopped short to study us. She was looking at us like we were animals in a zoo.
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“What are you two stoners doing?” she asked then started into the kitchen. She stopped walking and listened. “And what is this crrr-rap?” She stomped over to the stereo and changed the disc. We watched her with stoned gazes. Everything was so calm before she came in. I wondered if she was staying. “Got any more wine?” she asked. She must be. “I dunno,” Maria said. “No, we don’t have any wine,” I said, then began to laugh uncontrollably. “It’s grape juice!” They stared at me. “Remember in church, they’d give you grape juice instead of wine? Wasn’t that weird?” “What kind of church did you go to, chiquita?” Maria asked. “Southern Baptist, of course.” “Grape juice,” Maria said. “Huh.” “Yeah,” I said. “I mean, why bother? With grape juice, I mean. Jesus drank wine, didn’t he?” Maria nodded. “I think so. And not only did he drink it, he turned water into wine. So, he must have liked it to some extent.” She how deep she was? I said, “Jesus is way cool.” Maria sat up and poured some more wine. “The thing about religion is everyone thinks theirs is the only one to be in.” Oh my God! She was a genius. “Maria,” Charlene smarted. “That makes no sense what so ever.” “Shut up!” I yelled at her and turned to Maria. “Go on, Maria.” She eyed me and muttered, “It’s like turning to your enemies when your best friend has sold you out.” I breathed, “Go on.” 91
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“It’s like, knowing where the road ends then taking another route.” She was on a roll now. Very profound. I muttered, “Wow.” She began to giggle, stood up and pointed at me. Then she sang, “Bloodshot blues, I got the bloodshot blues…I ain’t never gonna lose, these bloodshot blues…ooohh oohhh…” “Jesus,” Charlene muttered. “That sounds like another country song.” It should be noted that Charlene hated country music. She didn’t even like Elvis’ country recordings. Hey, I never said she had taste or anything. I eyed Maria. Yeah. She was losing it. She always started out good, then it would all get discombobulated when she would try to compose these country songs. Bloodshot Blues was apparently her latest. Actually it sounded better than Store Bought Clothes, which had been her last effort. It went a little something like this:
“Store bought clothes My mama cried Store bought clothes When my daddy died…” It was this incredibly sad song about this little boy who always had to wear hand-me-down clothes, which he’d always resented. His daddy dies one day and his mama takes him to the store to buy…you guessed it, Store Bought Clothes for the funeral. And, as in all country songs, he gets what he wants, but there’s a price to pay. Maybe you had to be there.
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Charlene sighed and said, “So, anyway… As I was saying, you’ve always listened to shitty music, Tina, even back in high school.” What the hell was she talking about? “Besides the King, of course,” she added. What the hell was she talking about? “Oh, and Mare? You should have seen her hair back then!” She raised her hands over her head. “It was so big she got caught in doorways.” She always brought my big hair up. I was a kid, okay?! I was stoopid! I didn’t mention the fact that after she moved to Atlanta, a year or so after me, that she still had big hair. It was only after I told her it was passé that she got rid of it. Even so, I flipped her a bird just as Billy Squire’s Everybody Wants You came on. Maria suddenly jumped up and shouted at the top of her lungs, “The quickest way to give a woman an attitude is to give her a stick!” Well, gentlemen, hats off! She’d never be able to top that one. I clapped. “Maria,” Charlene said. “You are going to have to calm down now.” “Why did you change my music?” I asked Charlene. “This song kicks ass!” “Yeah, in 1984, it did,” I said. Charlene rolled her yes and began to snap her fingers to the music then pointed to the flowers. “Why do you have flowers?” Maria flopped on the couch and curled up like she was going to take a nap. Party’s almost over. I looked at Maria and began to shake my head, so she’d know to keep her trap shut. She didn’t get my point (maybe because her eyes were closed) and yawned, “Oh, they’re from Rocky.” 93
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I gave her a little kick. She slapped my foot away. “Who’s Rocky?” Charlene asked and sat on the floor, then took the joint from my hand. “Uh, some…weirdo,” I said with an air of nonchalance. She shrugged. “They’re pretty.” “So, how did you make out with Earlie Pooh?” Maria asked sleepily. There went my buzz. See ya! “He left me at the club!” She turned to me. “Did you see him last night?” Must. Stay. Calm. Breathe in. Breathe out. I stammered anyway, “What do you mean? Of course I didn’t see him. Why would I? I mean, why? That’s weird you’d even ask. I didn’t even see him at all. Why do you ask?” They were both staring at me like I was crazy, but that was my story and I was sticking to it. Plan A was in effect, damn it! And that meant I didn’t have to confess to anything. I would never see Earl again and if I did, I would not go anywhere with him. No matter how much I wanted to. But why did he have to have such a cool car? “Just asking.” She took a hit off the joint then pulled it back to stare at it. “This is shit. You gotta tell Red to stop bringing this shit over.” She exhaled. “I mean, that is why you keep him around, ain’t it?” Now she was pissing me off. I glared at her and said, “No, Charlene, I ‘keep him around’ because he’s a really good buddy.” “Buddy?” she said with one raised eyebrow, then teased, “Fuck buddy, maybe.” Maria, having sat up and rejoined society, nearly spit out her wine. “Oh, yeah!” I joked. “I’m sleeping with Red.” 94
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“Well, he is always coming over with all those tools.” We stared at each other and burst into giggles. “Ooh,” she said, turned her back to us and gave herself a hug, like she was being felt up. “Red, you’re soooo good looking.” I cracked up. “Ohhh, Red, baby, oh, baby!” Charlene fell to the floor laughing. “Oh, God, could you imagine? Having sex with Red?” “I could about imagine anything at this point,” I said, then kicked myself in the ass. Oh, noooo. “How long has it been since you…you know…?” Maria said and waved her hand a little. Why do girlfriends think they can ask this? I mean, How long has it been since you’ve been laid? I’d never ask that. Now, if they wanted to share, that’s one thing. So what if I haven’t been laid in a coon’s age? Big deal. That didn’t mean I was a loser or anything. It just meant I was very selective. And a girl has every right to be. Selective that is. “Yeah, how long had it been since you’ve been laid, Tina?” Charlene smirked. Bitch. She was getting such a big kick out of this. I wasn’t going to tell them, of course. I mean, it’s just too embarrassing to say, “It’s been awhile.” I mean, I’m a human, I need it, too. See, I’d had a lucky streak and hadn’t had to sleep with any of the dicks in a while. Some might say that lucky streak wasn’t so lucky. I’d done a strip tease to You Can Leave Your Hat On (Tom Jones’ version) for the last guy I had sex with and it had been better than good. He was one of those dicks that you’re glad you have to bring the big guns in on. He knew how to move, to say the least. He also knew more positions than anyone I’d ever been with. Things I’d never imagined in my wildest dreams were being done to me and in the most sensual fashion. (I might want to mention 95
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that he was French and absolutely gorgeous.) I’d been glowing for days and even delayed the break-up so I could go back in a few more times. You know, to make sure I had him. He’d really done a number on his ex-girlfriend and by the way he moved in the bedroom, I was more than sure I knew why she was so pissed. I mean, you can’t give someone a drink of water when they’re thirsty, then snatch it away. It’s not fair. But, I had to break his balls as that’s what I get paid to do. In fact, the day of the break-up, I fucked him. In more ways than one. (No pun intended.) Sorry, but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. I thought about it some more. No, he wasn’t the last dick I slept with, either. There had been this other situation, where I had to double team and do two dicks at the same time. (Not in the threesome kind of way, either.) It had been so bad, I must have purged it from my memory. It was ages ago. I’d never do anything like this again. It was this whole timing thing and couldn’t be avoided. Of course, neither dick would fall in love with me like they were supposed to, so I decided I had to start sleeping with both of them at the same time. They were both my type and cute and all, so I thought, why not? I spent the night with one with the full intention of getting up and meeting the other for breakfast, doing him and getting it over with. So, anyway, I didn’t have time to change clothes and this guy had torn my panties to shreds (he had been very enthusiastic.) Of course, I don’t carry around an extra pair of panties with me, so, he had these tighty-whities his mom had bought him for Christmas that were too small and he said I could wear them since I had to go into “work” so early. Just stay with me. It gets worse. 96
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Later that night, the other guy and I were making out. He was a good kisser, too. But I was tired of all this crap and just wanted to get it over and done with. This two-timing was for the birds, you know? It’s too much damn work. He slipped his hand up my skirt and stopped. His hand just jumped away from me. By this time, I’d forgotten that I even had the men’s underwear on. (They were very comfortable.) He’d had me out all day doing all kinds of stupid crap and I was very tired. So, anyway, I’m staring at the bastard like he’s crazy and he’s staring at me like I’m crazy. “What?” I asked. He lifted my skirt up and pointed to the underwear. I have never been more embarrassed in all of my life. I was like, “Oh shit, shit, shit, oh shit!” “Are you a…guy?” he asked and you could just tell he was shaking in his boots. Like, he’d read about stuff like this happening and never thought he’d become a statistic. “Do I look like a guy?” I yelled and took the underwear off and threw them at him. As an afterthought, I lifted my skirt up and gave him the money shot. “See?!” Then, it became this whole thing. He accused me of all this stupid, stupid crap. I was like, Whatever. Needless to say, he bolted on me and I ended up forfeiting my fee. Which really pissed me off. I’d worked a whole month on that dick, too! The moral of the story? Never two-time any dick, no matter how pushed for time you are or how cute either of them are. (Or how good they kiss.) It never works out. Charlene brought me back to reality, “Tina! Earth to Tina!” “What?” I asked. “So…how long has it been?” “I don’t know. Why don’t you ask my vibrator?” 97
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They cracked up. I smiled at them, gritting my teeth. So invasive! So invasive! “Mr. Tickly or The Gentleman Caller?” she asked. “Mr. Tickly, thank you very much.” “I don’t have either,” Maria said. “Are they fun?” We stared at her for a long time. She shrugged and said, “What?” “Maria, how long have you been in this country?” I asked. Charlene put it into perspective, “Let’s put it this way, if I had to choose between my vibrator and having wild sex for one night with any man of my choosing… Well, the vibrator would win. Every time.” “I have to agree,” I said. “They’re so great, aren’t they?” she asked, pouring herself some wine. “The added attraction is you don’t have to listen to their crap afterwards.” Maria pretended to be on the phone, and whined like a man, “Oh, when you gonna call me?” We laughed. “I definitely need a vibrator,” she said. “You’ll have to let me borrow one.” Like I had a whole drawer full or something. Here take this one, it’s nice… She was out of her mind. I told her, “Uh, Maria, a vibrator is kinda personal.” “Like a diary?” she asked innocently. We cracked up and laughed for what seemed like days. I said, “You don’t even know what the hell we’re talking about, do you, Mare?” Charlene squealed, “She is so stoned!”
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Maria began to giggle, which escalated into hard laughter, the kind that makes you cry and your stomach hurt. She laughed so hard, she fell off the couch. And stayed there. Charlene stared at the joint in her hand. “Maybe this shit ain’t half-bad.” She took another drag. This might be a good time. They were both here and in good spirits. And I wanted to give it one last shot before I accepted defeat. I perked up and said, “So, y’all thought any more about that trip to Europe?” They both groaned. “Oh come on! You can afford it!” “Yeah, Tina, we can,” Charlene said, looking at Maria. “But the point is do we want to.” Maria sighed. “I’m from over there, anyway, chiquita. I’ve done it.” I glared at her. “So? I haven’t. Besides, you’re from Puerto Rico, not Europe.” “Tell you what,” she said, smiling. “Next time I go to visit my family, I take you with me.” “When are you going again?” “In a couple of years.” Charlene muttered, “And I thought I didn’t get along with my family.” “A couple of years! I can’t wait that long!” I exclaimed. “Why not?” Charlene asked. “Because I don’t want to,” I stammered. “Listen, you said you’d go with me.” “I didn’t mean it, though,” she smarted. I was aghast. “What do you mean?” “I was just trying to be nice,” she replied.
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Maria stood and left the room. I stared back at Charlene. “Well, I believed you.” “When you say you’re going to go to some place like Europe, you never go, Tina. You just say you are because it’s the right thing to do. People don’t ever actually do it.” “So no one travels to Europe?” “I don’t reckon.” “Oh, just shut up,” I snapped. “Don’t be pissed at me!” “Why not? You lied to me.” I sat up and pointed at her. “Give me one good reason why.” She considered, “It’s a long way.” “We won’t be swimming, Charlene.” She sighed. “Well…they talk funny over there.” I stared at her. “They don’t all speak the same language, you know?” There was no point in proceeding. “Why do you want to go so bad, anyway?” she asked. I sighed and muttered, “I just thought I needed to do it before…” “Before?” “Before,” I cleared my throat and whispered, “I thought about having…kids…or something.” “Kids!” she yelled and jumped up. Maria had just entered the room. She eyed Charlene for a moment then hurried into the kitchen. “You want kids?” “I dunno,” I said. “Maybe.” “Maybe!” she exclaimed and shook her head at me. “You’d make ’bout as good a mother as me.”
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I could have hit her. Now that offended me. I decided it wasn’t worth it and let it go. “Give me a break,” I said and prepared to follow Maria into the kitchen. I was getting the munchies. Bad. “Besides,” she said. “You need a man to have kids.” “No, I don’t Charlene,” I replied and stopped in the kitchen doorway. “All I need is a dick.” She gave me a very bewildering look. Her head started shaking on its own. “You mean…you’d…use one of those guys for…” She kept shaking her head as if the very thought was making her mind spin. “I’ve thought about it, yes. Why not? They’d never know.” “Have you been smoking crack?!” “It’s just an idea, Charlene, just like going to Europe is just an idea. It’s something I would like to do, but if I don’t, it won’t be a big deal.” Her mouth was still open. “Besides, a woman can want a kid just like a man can want one, can’t she?” “What?!” “I mean, men usually want kids, right?” “Well, hell yeah they do! They don’t have to do anything to get ’em, that’s why!” She had a point. “Just forget it,” I said. “It’s probably just the pot talking.” “Well, you better stop listening to it.” Duly noted.
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Hey, Good Lookin’! Tito gave me one look and said, “No.” “Come on!” I begged. “If you don’t, I’ll go to another stylist!” He held up one hand, put it across his heart and looked hurt, as if I had just blasphemed him, his salon and the entire world. He shook his head, went around the back of my chair and began to study my hair, pulling it this way and that. “You better take that back!” he hissed. “Alright,” I muttered as he turned me around to face the mirror. “I take it back.” “Girl,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Look at them roots!” I studied him with one raised eyebrow. He was, in a word, preposterous. In short, he was a wannabe gangsta, as was his right hand man—and boyfriend—Jerome. Problem was, they were both gay. And whiter than white. They always wore about twelve thick gold chains (think: Mr. T) baseball caps that were turned sideways, pants that were way too big and some sort of Adidas—or whatever was in style at that moment—sneaker. Which made them more than a little odd. But they could cut hair like nobody’s business! And I loved them. The only reason I knew about their salon was because I just happened on it one day. I’d been walking by and their logo had caught my eye: Tito’s Saloon. Tito? Saloon? I went in, halfexpecting Tito Jackson to serve me up some beer in a frosted mug. However, instead of Tito Jackson, I found Tito and Jerome. They’d been sitting in the styling chairs, flipping through Vibe. When I came in, they jumped up, descended on me and pushed me into a chair. They began to tell me how wonderful it was that I’d dropped by and that I was their first customer and did I know of any other chicks that needed a new hairstylist? It was all a little weird, but an 102
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hour later, I had emerged with the best cut, color and style of my life. They had even taken my picture and put it up on the wall:
Tina, Our First Satisfied Customer. Word! I’ve been a devoted customer ever since. And I helped them build their business by handing out their business cards. After a while, they were the hottest salon in Atlanta. (Charlene uses Jerome, but I’ve stuck with Tito.) They always make time for me. Usually, they open up a little early so we can have the place to ourselves to discuss men, rap music and sex. And, just so you’ll know, they put too many “O’s” in salon by accident then left it like that. Word to ya mother! Jerome—whose real name was Jerry—said, “Uh uhhh!” I rolled my eyes and faced Tito in the mirror. “Tito, I want to dye my hair back to its natural color.” They gasped as if that was the first time they’d heard it. “But why?” Tito asked. “Well, the rug don’t match the drapes. And I need a change.” “I don’t know nothin’ ’bout no rugs or no drapes, girl, but I do know you gots some major ass roots.”
I gots some major ass roots! Jerome said, “Hmmph!” “I don’t know,” Tito said, shaking his head and studying my hair some more. “Why?” “I need a change,” I said. “Please?” He sighed, shook his head once and turned me to face him. “You got a new man or something?” God, he could see right through me. How did he do that? I exclaimed, “Of course not!” He looked right in my eyes and said, “Who is he?” “No one!”
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He nodded. “Yeah, new man, new hairstyle. I’ve seen it all before, girl.” “I just need a change, so do your job, Tito!” “I did do my job and now you’re gonna ruin it.” He eyed me with derision. “After all that work I done…” Jerome muttered, “Uh uh.” “Tito, please, please just do it for me.” “Oh, I’ll do it,” he said. “I just think you’re fine as a blonde.” “It makes me feel like a bimbo.” “So? What’s wrong with that?” I thought about it. What was wrong with that? “You trying to make an impression or something?” he asked. Damn it! Even so, I snapped, “No!” Jerome said, “Uh huh.” “Y’all just do your job and let me have my hair back.” “Whatever you say, girl,” Tito muttered and got to work. “But I think you’re making a mistake, that’s all I’m saying.” In about an hour, I was back to my natural brunette self. I loved it! I told him so. He nodded. “You do look fine.” “When are you going to marry me?” I asked and took a sip of the bottled water I’d been drinking all morning. “As soon as you grow a dick, baby.” I, of course, did a spit-take. Why did he always have to say something funny when I was drinking something? He patted my shoulder. Jerome came over to admire his work. “What you think, Jerome?” he asked. “Mmmhhh!” “He right. You look good.” I smiled. I did look good. I almost felt like a new person. Funny what a new hair color can do for a girl. 104
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After I was done, I drove across town to my favorite record store, Vern’s. It’s really old and dusty, but they have everything in there. I had just pulled out a vintage original recording of Elvis in Hawaii! It was a find beyond all finds. And it was only seven bucks! Out of nowhere, the clerk, this little guy with coke bottle glasses said, “Here’s one for the ladies.” He paused then said, “Thank you for shopping with us.” I chuckled and Hank Williams, Sr.’s Hey, Good Looking began to play. A very, very fine tune. My mom told me when she was young these boys who lived “down the road” would come around singing that very song to her and her sister while they were out putting clothes up on the line to dry. What ’cha got cookin’? Beans
and taters and a few maters… That’s potatoes and tomatoes to you. I hummed along then looked up. I was more than surprised to see Earl leaning against the counter. His arms were crossed and he was concealing a record. He held it up. It was Elvis’ Blue Suede Shoes on vinyl! He was not real. ♥♥♥♥♥ “And I said to the guy, what the hell are you doing, son? You’re supposed to be a mechanic! And he’s standing there slack-jawed with my sandwich in his hand!” I didn’t get what he was saying, but I laughed anyway. “Oh, that’s funny.” “No, it’s not! He didn’t know anything about cars! All he knew about was stealing my sandwich.” “Oh!” I said, nodding. “Huh.”
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He stared at me as if considering explaining further. He must have thought better of it and just grinned. I glanced at him. Today he had on jeans and a t-shirt. From what I could tell, his chest was extremely ripped. The plain white t-shirt just hugged it. He also had good abs. And I could tell a little more about his arms. They were big and his biceps poked through the sleeves just a little. It took everything in my power not to say, Could you take off your shirt, please? I’d like to inspect your arms. But God, I wanted to. I was dying to see them. “Have I told you how much I like your hair?” he asked. I blushed. I actually blushed! And what was that? Was I giggling? Oooh…no! “I almost didn’t recognize you.” I smiled. Maybe that had been the point. “So, what do you want to do later?” he asked. I stared at the cotton candy that he’d bought me. Then at the gravel on the ground. Then at all the pretty trees in the park. I shrugged and stopped walking. He stopped, too. “I dunno…” I said. “I gotta wash my hair.” “That’s what all y’all say. Want me to help?” He nuzzled my neck a little until I squirmed away. Did this man not realize what he was doing? I hadn’t been laid in ages and here he comes up and starts doing this stuff that will make me want to sleep with him. And I couldn’t do that. No, no, no. No. No matter how skin-starved I was, I could not do him. Ever. “Earl, I can’t.” “You married or something?” “Why? You planning on asking me?” He stared at me. I stared back. We both cracked up at the same time. “You’re not, are ya?” he asked. 106
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I shook my head. “No, I’m not married.” “Boyfriend?” I shook my head. “Girlfriend?” I raised one eyebrow. We started walking again. “So,” he said, considering his words carefully. “You’re not taken, you’re single, beautiful, smart…straight.” He stared at me. “What’s wrong with you?” My question exactly. “I mean is there something wrong with you?” he asked, not in a hateful manner or anything. More like he really wanted to know, just to be sure. “I could ask you the same thing.” He nodded. “You sure could.” “What would be your answer?” He grinned. “What’d be yours?” I guess I should probably stop this friendly banter before it went in a direction other than one I’d be comfortable with. I stopped in front of him. “I’m gonna level with you, okay? I can’t see you.” “Did I do something wrong?” he asked. I groaned. “No. Look, I’m not trying to be mean—I’m sure you’re a great guy—but I don’t want a relationship. With anyone.” “I appreciate that,” he said. “It’s not like I’m desperate.” That was the tough part, too. This guy could get anybody he wanted. But so what? I could, too. “Whatever you say, buddy.” “I ain’t asking for much, Tina.” “What are you asking for, Earl?” “Just your extra time,” he said. “You got some of that, don’t you?” 107
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“No. Not really.” He leaned forward and stared into my eyes. I leaned back then pushed him off. “Stop staring at me like that.” “Like that?” Like you could just see through me, I thought. Like you know things about me that no one else ever will. Like you… Oh, shit. What was wrong with me? I shook myself. “Nothing. It’s creeping me out.” I didn’t add that I was creeping me out as well. He cracked up, then leaned in again. “Really? Does this creep you out, too?” I pushed him off. “Yes, it does.” “But you’ve got real purty eyes,” he said in an exaggerated Southern accent. “Please! Look, Earl, I just can’t.” “I won’t ask for much, you know?” “What will you ask for?” “Just your extra time,” he said again and grinned at me. “And maybe a kiss or two.” “No, Earl. I can’t. I can’t do it. Please don’t ask me to again. The answer is and will always be no.” “You sure?” I nodded. He gave me an intense stare. “That’s what I like about you, Tina. You say what you think. And that takes a lot of guts. And we’re going to dinner.” So much for Plan A. On to Plan B. I would accompany him to dinner and that would be all. After dinner, no more Earl.
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Varmint’s As soon as we pulled up in front of the restaurant, my mouth dropped involuntarily. What was this? He’d brought me here, to Varmint’s? Why?! There’s no other way to describe it. Varmint’s was one of a kind. The sign out front looked like a wooden plank someone found in a barnyard. Beside it, a stuffed coyote was poised to attack. And the place was packed. People were lined out the front door waiting to get in. “Ever been here?” he asked. “I avoid it like the plague,” I told him. He seemed stumped. “But this is my restaurant. I own it.” Ah ha! So that’s what was wrong with him! I sat up quickly and said, “Oh, I didn’t mean that. I meant… Oh! I heard they have great…burgers…or something.” “Or…something?” “Or something,” I said. I’ll just spit it out: There’s a rumor that they served roadkill there, okay? I prayed to God it was an urban legend. “Oh,” he said. “Come on. Let’s go in.” I guess I didn’t have any choice. We got out and entered the restaurant as Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Gimme Three Steps blasted. Cool tune. The customers waiting in line parted like the Red Sea when Earl and I entered. People patted him on the back and I heard a few of them whispering, “Is that him?” and “He’s taller in person!” and “Oh my God! He’s gorgeous!” and “Puts all the others to shame.” God! Did everyone love him or something? Besides being the “proud” owner of this restaurant, what else was wrong with him? He was too perfect, too loved and admired. Too nice. 109
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I figured he was some type of pervert. I sized him up and after a few scenarios played in my head, I decided on a foot fetish personality. He’d already commented on my shoes and it wasn’t because they were new or anything. Oh, yeah. I had his number all right. As on the outside, the inside was fashioned with dead (taxidermy) animals, deer antlers and a big black stuffed bear that looked, more or less, frightening. Big buckets of peanuts sat on each table, peanut shells covered the plank floor and the drinks were served in old Mason jars. After he’d given a few autographs (!!!!), we sat in a secluded booth. The menu featured the head of a striking rattlesnake. Nice! I smiled at him then looked around. To my utter astonishment, there was an exact replica of my black velvet Elvis hanging above our booth! Like a teenager with a hormonal imbalance, I almost screamed, “Will you marry me?!” Thankfully I regained my senses just in time. I’d just play it cool. It probably wasn’t even his idea to put it up there anyway. I turned my attention to the menu and scanned it, looking for signs of strange items. Hamburgers, steaks, the usual. I breathed a sigh of relief. A little too loudly. He stared at me. “What is it?” he asked. Oh, why not tell him? He might get a big kick out of it. “I just thought they’d have possum or muskrat, you know stuff like that. Roadkill…type items.” I grinned at him. He leaned over and pointed, “You can get it right here.” I stared down in horror. He roared with laughter. “Gotcha!” Gotcha? Points will be taken off for that. I gave a very fake laugh, rolled my eyes then turned to the King, hoping he’d help me. He just stood there, looking good. Earl followed my gaze. “You like Elvis?” 110
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I turned to him and nodded shyly. His eyes widened and it appeared that he had the same thought about marriage I’d had not two minutes earlier. “I’m a huge Elvis fan myself!” “Oh, yeah?” He nodded and was suddenly shaking with excitement, “You do know that Elvis Presley, the King of Rock and Roll, grew up on squirrel that he hunted and killed himself?” “Yes. As a matter of fact, I did know that.” “I’m a huge Elvis fan. In fact the only days that we close are August 16th and January 8th.” I stared at him. He calmed down. “But I’m not a fanatic or anything.”
Noooo…not at all. “But seriously, I do want to get married in Vegas with an Elvis minister doing the ceremony.” He had to be joking. He wasn’t. “My, what girl wouldn’t want that?” I smiled a little at him. “I like Elvis, too. Maybe not as much as you…” He nodded vigorously then the waitress came over. She was identified by her large nametag that sat atop a white doily as “Sally.” She had her hair in braids and was quite cute. She was immediately all over Earl, which made her less cute. “Welcome to Varmint’s, Mr. Earl!” Mr. Earl? Did he make them say that? “Hey, Sally,” he said after he checked her tag. “Just call me Earl.”
Oh. “Okay,” she giggled. “How’s it going?” he asked, then checked her tag again. “Sally.”
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“Oh, Mr. Earl, it’s going great since you sat down at my table!” She was ecstatic. “I’m so excited I could pee my pants!” Well, that was pretty damn excited. I could pee my pants! I sat my menu down and wanted a cigarette, bad. This could take a while. “Well, I wouldn’t want you to do that now,” he replied. She giggled, “I better take your order now. What do ya want to drink, Mr. Earl?” “How ’bout some of that sweet tea?” he asked, then in a joking manner, “Don’t cheat me on that extra lemon I like neither.” “Why, I’d never do anything like that.” I knew she wouldn’t, either. He winked at her then turned to me. “What will you have, baby?” “Well, baby, I’ll have a shot of Jack.” Sally gave me a look of pure contempt. Sometimes, life is like that. She turned on her heel and took off like a bat out of hell. “Hey!” I called after her. “Bring that bottle back!”
The Good Deed As soon as I opened my front door, I heard a sound. Like a whimper. I froze and said, “Charlene, is that you?” I mean, I hoped to God it was her. Surely a burglar wouldn’t be crying in the corner. I walked around flipping on lights. And there she sat, on my couch, curled up. She shielded her eyes from the light. There was definitely something wrong. “Charlene, what’s wrong?” I rushed over to her.
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“It’s just that… Uh…” She sniffled. I handed her a Kleenex, then noticed about a million were strewn all over the room. Used. Double ick. “Go on,” I told her gently, trying to ignore the tissues. She cried a little, then, “Earl didn’t call.” I felt like one hundred and ten percent shit. I moved back a little. I hoped the guilt I was feeling wasn’t plastered all over my face. If she saw it, she’d catch on and I didn’t want that. I didn’t ever want to hurt her, like I’d been hurt. I never wanted any chick to hurt over a man like I’d hurt. Especially not her. I tried to lighten the mood, “I thought you said he was an asshole.” “Yeah, but I wanted him to be my asshole.” She began to cry harder and covered her face. “He hurt me so much, the bastard. He used me.” Oh, no. I knew it was true, too. She wouldn’t lie about something like this. Especially since she didn’t even know he and I went to Varmint’s together. Oh, why did I go out with him in the first place? I hugged her. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.” She sniffled and stared at my head, then wailed, “What did you do to your hair?” I touched it. “I dyed it back.” This seemed to upset her even more. “But why?” she cried. Charlene would never consider going brunette. Being blonde was an investment. “I just did,” I muttered, feeling slightly ashamed. “You don’t like it?” She lifted one shoulder. I sighed. And then she did it. She faced me and said, “I want you to break his heart.” “Huh?” I asked, pretending not to understand. 113
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She replied, “I want you to break his heart.” I surprised myself and exclaimed, “What?!” She sat up taller and said calmly, “I want you to break his heart. And his balls, too, while you’re at it.” I began to get that sinking feeling, the kind that makes you queasy when you know what you’ve done has come back home to roost. And you’re going to have to pay for it. By the ton. Her request made me realize that once a heartbreaker, always a heartbreaker. There was no going back. It’s just impossible once you’ve crossed that line. And I knew then that I wanted Earl. And that realization almost made me sick. Not since Adam had I thought about a man in that way. I didn’t think it was possible. I’d lied to myself, I knew that, and that realization made this all the more difficult. I stood and began to pace. I didn’t look at her when I said, “Charlene, I can’t.” “Tina, I’ve never asked you for anything. And I’ve had guys I wanted you to break, but I’ve been saving this favor forever.” She stared at me with this incredible hurt look, the same look I’d seen so often. The look of rejection. That’s what it looks like, right there. And I’d had it too. I knew what it felt like. “You have to do this for me,” she said. “And get him good, maybe do that thing with the car accident again…I don’t know… Something bad.” But I couldn’t do it. Not for her. Not for anybody. I would never see Earl after this, this much was true. I’d just forget about him and my feelings and one day they’d go away, just like they did before. “Charlene, I can’t.” She really turned the faucets on. “Why not?”
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I couldn’t think of anything else, so I said, “Well, uh… I’m on vacation.” She looked even more hurt, if that were possible. “Oh, but you’d come off vacation to help a complete stranger, but not your best friend? I get it.” “No, it’s not that. It’s—” “It’s what?” It’s that I couldn’t. Mainly because I was stupid and had feelings for him. If I saw him again, I might not be able to retain a “professional” distance. I was also scared that she’d find out about us. She was still staring. Her look was sad, irresistible. And I knew that if I didn’t do it, I’d never be able to look her in the face. I would be no better than they were, the men, the real true heartbreakers. The ones who deserve to feel this pain. The only problem was I just didn’t know if Earl deserved to feel it. Not all men are bad, are they? I wasn’t sure why Charlene has gotten so attached to him. She wouldn’t give most men the time of day, but she was bawling like a baby over Earl. But I couldn’t very well ask her why, could I? No, I couldn’t. “Please, Tina?” she whispered. “Please do this for me. As a friend.” I had no choice. “Okay,” I said. “I’ll do it.” She grinned from ear to ear and threw her arms around my neck. “Thank you, Tina! You are the best!” Yeah, the best. The best shit. Poor Earl.
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Meanwhile, Back at the Diner The girls, Nicki and Ally, stared at me, mouths agape. I stared back nervously then looked away. I stared back. They still had the same looks. “What?” I asked. They shook themselves, glanced at each other and Ally said, “So, let me get this straight, mmm’kay?” “Mmm’kay,” I replied. “First of all, you find these guys then you attract them, so to speak, then you…?” I sighed. “I thought I had told y’all that part.” Nicki nodded. “You did, but I’m a little fuzzy.” I rolled my eyes. “Okay. Let’s go back to the beginning, then when you’re comfortable, we’ll get back on track.” They grinned at me and nodded. “Okay,” I said with a sigh. “Let’s go back to the beginning…”
Let’s Review Just so we can know what we’re dealing with, let’s go over this thing one more time.
Heartbreaking 101: 1.
Must wear tight clothing. a. In order to wear tight clothing, you must be in good, physical shape. b. Work out and cut out that late night Ben & Jerry’s. (You know what I’m talking about.)
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2. 3.
4.
5. 6. 7.
Get their attention. Do something “crazy.” (But not dangerous.) When they call or when you meet up “on accident,” pretend you don’t know who they are or what they want. a. Act uninterested. b. Flip your hair. c. Yet give them coy looks. Make them want you. a. Appear irresistible. b. Learn how to bat your eyes and act foolish. c. Keep yourself on their minds. d. Your actions should always bespeak of a sweet, caring person and when they think of you, they’ll get a big old grin on their faces. e. When you “bump” into them, act as if you don’t remember who they are. But you’d like to. Maybe… Pretend they say the funniest things. Always, throw your head back when you laugh. Titillation. This should speak for itself. Tools and other “manly” crap are interesting. a. Never give the real name of any given tool even if you know what it is. That way they’ll think you’re as dumb as a box of hammers. b. Remember, you want them to think you’re dumb. You must allow them to retain an air of superiority as men thrive on that shit. In effect, they’ll overcompensate for everything, making themselves look likes asses. And you can laugh at them behind their backs. 117
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8. 9.
Keep their minds on sex. This shouldn’t be too difficult… Disappear for while. They’ll wonder…Why isn’t she returning my calls? Where is that little minx?
And we save the most important part for last… 10. As soon as you’re sure you’ve got them hook, line and sucker, go in for the kill. a. Never, I repeat never, hesitate. Drop that dick like a bad habit. b. And…disappear—for real this time. c. Timing is of the essence. d. If you wait too long, you’ll never get rid of him. e. If you do it too soon, the desired effect will not take place. It seemed simple enough. But, damn, I really didn’t want to do this. But I better get started, so I could be finished. So, on to Plan C, which included, among other things, breaking Earl’s heart. This was going to be tricky. I thought I’d take a different approach to the Earl situation as it was, indeed, different than any I’d ever been in. Charlene was very vague in describing what they had “had.” So, I had to assume a lot. He’d used her for sex or something like that. I usually make my clients tell me what the dick exactly did, but when Charlene’s hurt, she bundles up inside herself and only strikes out in anger. So she was mum for the most part, which meant I was pretty much on my own. Honestly, I didn’t know exactly what was up. There was a lot of extenuating circumstances. I decided not to put too much effort 118
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into it then I’d just tell Charlene he was a true dick and couldn’t be touched by even the likes of me. And I’d be off the hook. I’d make the first move. We’d already had our first date, more or less, so it was okay for me to call. I didn’t know where he “hung” out at and I sure as hell wasn’t driving to the Atlanta racetrack to find his ass. So, I called his house. To my utter amazement, Red picked up. “Yell-O!” “Red?” I asked, wondering if I’d dialed the wrong number. “Tina?” “What are you…?” I stammered. “Why are you…?” he asked. I cleared my throat. “Oh, at the racetrack that day, Earl told me he had a…thing-ie thing and I could call and get it.” I cleared my throat again and tried to deter him. “What are you doing at his house?” “Huh? Oh! He got hit in the head at the game today.” “Excuse me?” I asked. “We went to the Braves’ game today.” “Who were they playing?” I asked. “Milwaukee.” “Get beat?” I asked. “Oh, no, they won.” “Oh, cool,” I said. “So, that guy at the track, one of those fellers you went out with or whatever the hell you call it—” I cringed. “Who? Joe?” “Yeah, I think that was his name. Anyway, he, uh, he got to hit a ball out of the park. You know, he won it on some radio station.” “And?” I asked and prayed what I thought happened didn’t happen. 119
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“He spotted old Earl—we were up front—and, let’s just say, he hit it out of the park, alright.” “He hit Earl?” “Technically, no,” Red said and cleared his throat. “The ball hit Earl. Right in the head. He called it, too, just like Babe Ruth. Pointed right at Earl before he hit it and everything.” From his words, I got a good vision of what happened. Ouch! That Joe was a nut. I asked, “Is he okay?” “He’ll be fine. “Where is he?” “He’s at the hospital right now,” he replied. “Hospital?!” I exclaimed. I felt so awful. He got hit because of me. He’d probably run the next time he saw me. But I’d be close on
his heels. Ha ha! I shook the thought from my head and told myself, No. His running from me might not be a bad thing. “I just came over to turn on his lights,” Red continued. “They’re keeping him overnight.” “Is he going to be okay?” “He’s fine. They’re just keeping him for observation.” He cleared his throat again and said, “You seen Charlene?” I suddenly got an idea. It was so clear. I could do it all today and be done with it and go back to living life normally again! “Tina?” Red asked. “Oh, no, I haven’t seen her. Look, I gotta go! Bye!” I hung up before he answered and raced into my closet. This was a job for Nurse Tina.
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Do Ya Think I’m Sexy? Plan C: To break it off with Earl at whatever cost. Never see him again. Never think of him again. Good plan. So, off to the hospital to visit Earl I went. “Mr. Goodman, you there?” I called, then heard him sit up. “Yeah, I’m here.” He cleared his throat. I came out from behind the partition and smiled at him. He looked so cute. He had a big bandage wrapped around his head and he was dressed in a hospital gown. Maybe today was the day I’d finally get to see his arms. I’d thought about them since the day we met. His eyes popped open when he saw me. Exactly the kind of reaction I was looking for. Nurse Tina was a costume I wore to a Halloween party once. I never wore it again because I had to literally beat guys off me. All I heard all night was, “Wanna take my temperature?” I don’t have to explain what the nurse’s uniform looked like. It’s just white and very tight. Heels instead of sneakers. Hair pulled up and one of those little white things stuck in it. I looked hot, if I do say so myself. And I worked it. Earl was still staring. I smiled at him. “I heard you were sick.” I gave him a concerned look. “Are you sick, Mr. Goodman?” He was nodding. “I’m real sick, Tina.” I moved over to him, leaned over and touched his forehead. I leaned in a little more until his face was in my cleavage. And, boy oh boy, it felt good, too. I pulled back. “Oh, you do feel a little hot.” I bit my lip. “Just a little.” I adjusted my hair, then pulled the clip out and ran my fingers through it. “I’m a little hot myself. Mind if I get a little air?”
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I toyed with the buttons of my shirt. He looked at me in a way that said, Why would I? Get all the air you want! And give me a
little while you’re at it! He was nearly beside himself and reached out for me. “Here. I’ll help.” I shook my finger at him playfully. “No, we need to check a few things.” He pulled his hands away and tucked them under his legs. He grinned up at me and nodded for me to continue. I’d be willing to bet this was one of his favorite fantasies. I know it was one of mine. I climbed on the bed and straddled him and pretend to check his head. “Ummm… My, that’s a big bump on your little head.” “Uh, it sure is…” he muttered. “Oh, your lip is cut.” “I did that shaving.” I pulled back and stared at him. “You shaved your beard!” For some reason, I hadn’t noticed that. “Yeah,” he said and grinned sheepishly. “You said before that you didn’t like beards.” He shaved his beard for me! Yea! No! No! No! Bad! Bad girl! I stared at him. “You look good. But you didn’t have to do that.” “I wanted to do it, baby.” I felt all…melty. It was a bit nauseating. I quickly got back on task and leaned in towards him. “Oh, Mr. Goodman, I think we might have to check a few more things.” “I think I’d like to do a little checking myself,” he said and pulled my face to his and tried to kiss me. I pulled back and slapped him playfully. “You’re a very naughty boy, Mr. Goodman. You should show more restraint.” The objective of the game was to get him all wound up, then leave. Then he’d think I was tease, a bitch and would never want to 122
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see me again. At least that’s what I’d told myself. I had a feeling I should have never tried to second guess him. “Uh, Tina?” “That’s Nurse Tina to you.” I gave him a coy glare, pursing my lips and ran my hands down his chest. I suddenly realized I could stop. But I didn’t. My hand kept going lower and lower and lower until it settled on his crotch and… Oh, dear God in Heaven! This man was perfect! My heart began to beat wildly. I calmed myself and stared back at him, “My, what’s this? You’re not hurtin’ there, are ya?” He said hoarsely, “I’m hurtin’ all over, baby. Real bad.” I feel your pain, I thought, I feel your pain. He leaned up towards me, his lips grazing mine. All the butterflies in the world seemed to settle all over my body. Goosebumps rose. I shivered a little. I began to shake. I was losing control. I regained my senses momentarily and told him, “You can take off your hospital gown now.” He grinned from ear to ear, pulled it up, threw it to the side and leaned back with arms crossed. Finally! I got to see! His arms were damn good. He had the best set I’d ever seen. His muscles were thick, but not bulky in that body-builder way. There wasn’t too much of them, just enough. Just enough to be strong and big. His shoulders were only slightly rounded. Just a hint. Nothing was overdone here. Everything was perfect. This was too much. My senses were overloading. I had to leave. I had to get off the bed and get out of the room. I had to go. Now! Get my ass up and out. Off the bed! Off! Now! “Tina?” I shook myself. “Uh, I need to go.”
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He stared at me in disbelief. Then his arms came out, took me in and held me tight. They were strong, almost inflexible. I wouldn’t be going anywhere and I knew it. “Come on, baby,” he begged. “Don’t do me like that.” “Do you like what?” “Like that.” He gave me an intense stare. “But, Mr. Goodman,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. “This is why they call it a strip tease.” And then, the next part of the plan was to leap off the bed, give him the finger and tell him I knew all about his kind and to stay the hell away from me, from Charlene and the entire feminine population. But I didn’t move. I had taken it too far. There was no going back. “Oh, Tina…” “Earl…” And then… And then I lost control. I decided the best course of action here would be to bring in the big guns. I had to. I couldn’t stand it anymore. He couldn’t stand it anymore. We jumped at each other and the kissing started. The long, passionate, lusty kissing. The kind that felt so good it hurt a little. It was too much. I’d denied myself for too long. I needed this, this kissing. This touching. He stopped kissing me for a moment and pulled back, staring into my eyes. He murmured, “Tina, you’re beautiful.” I stared back and believed.
A Little Later… “Don’t you think it’s strange that doctors call what they do ‘practice’?” I asked. 124
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Earl hesitated before he replied, “It sure is,” then he cracked up. I took a long drag off the cigarette and put it to his mouth. He took a drag and thanked me. “No,” I said. “Thank you.” And I meant it. Every girl needs to be made love to like that from time to time. He was probably the best lover I’d ever had. My reasoning could be clouded, though, due to sexual frustration. But he knew how to move. And when to stay still, which is what I liked best. I sighed with satisfaction. I loved orgasms. I loved them so much. Vibrators were good, but there was nothing like good sex. Nothing compared to it. Nothing in the whole, wide world. If I could have set a song to it, it’d be Let’s Get It On by Mr. Marvin Gaye. It was that good. Just then a real nurse entered and stopped short. She dropped her clipboard. “You know there’s no smoking in here!” I told her, “In this case, there should be.” ♥♥♥♥♥ Red dropped by the next day. “Well?” he asked, standing in the doorway. Now this was just great. He knew. Red knew about me and Earl. Damn it anyway! And damn Earl while you’re at it. Never kiss and tell! I abided by that. “You got it, didn’t you?” he asked. “Got what?” “That shelf thing.” “Oh! That!” I gave a fake laugh. “Of course. You gonna put it together for me?” “That’s why I’m here, Tina, you asked me.” 125
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I nodded and he followed me into the bedroom, where he started assembling a shelving unit for my shoes. He said, “I heard you two went out the other day.” I blushed again. Damn it! “Oh, it was nothing,” I said casually. “Oh,” he said. “Hand me that Phillips head.” I handed him a screwdriver. He took it, mumbled to himself and said, “No, I mean the other Phillips head.” I had given him a flathead. “Oops,” I said. “You alright?” “I’m fine. Why?” “You’re acting…unusual.” Well, good sex always did put me in a good mood. I lied,“I took some medicine for my sinuses. Made me a little…light-headed. By the way, thanks for helping me, Red.” “No problem,” he said and gave me a quick smile. “So, you and Earl went to Varmint’s?” I said, “Uh…yeah…” He nodded and when I didn’t elaborate, went back to work. I studied him. Well, why not ask a few questions? He and Earl had been friends forever. Besides, I needed a little information on him and Charlene didn’t have any, as they’d never really dated. “Charlene know?” he asked and sat back on his heels. “About you and Earl?” I sighed. “Well, there’s nothing there, Red.” “It’s probably for the best.” “What do you mean?” I asked. “I mean, she’s not his type.” “Why not?” “’Cause she’s my type. She just don’t know it yet.” I smiled at him. He had no clue. Bless his heart. And he wasn’t a bad looking guy. He was just a little uncouth, a little coarse. I 126
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mean, you’d never catch him in a three-piece suit, but that was part of his charm. If Charlene would just fall in love with him, then everything would work out fine. I stopped my rambling thoughts and grew slightly panicked. Did I just… No. I didn’t mean that. We were all going to retire to Florida and that meant no men! For me or for her! Or for Maria. “With Earl,” he said. “I mean, just don’t… Be nice. He’s not like these others.” “We’re just friends,” I said and wondered briefly if I could make Earl my fuck buddy. I really needed one of those. “Sure you are.” “Well… What did he say about me?” He sighed but didn’t stop working. “He likes you.” I forced the smile to stop. “And what did you tell him about me?” I asked and stared him down. “I told him you sold real estate,” he said. “And he’s my best friend and I didn’t like lying to him one bit.” “Thanks, Red,” I said and smiled at him. “What can you tell me about Earl? I mean, do you think he’s a womanizer?” “Uh, I don’t reckon.” “You don’t think he uses women?” “What are you gettin’ at?” He stopped and stared at me. “I’m just asking.” “No, I don’t think he uses women, but I do think they use him.” I considered that. Duly noted. He continued, “His mama left when he was real young and he’s a sucker for the ladies. And they usually try to take advantage.” “Oh, that’s terrible. What happened to his mother?” “She ran off with a Bible salesman. It tore him and his daddy up real bad. His daddy lost his job and they had it rough for a while, even rougher than I did as a kid growing up.” 127
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He smiled at me. I smiled back and realized I wasn’t going to get anything about Earl out of him, which was just as well. “He’s a pretty good feller, girl,” he said. “Wouldn’t hurt a hair on anybody’s head, not unless they gave him a reason.” And I knew he was telling the truth and that didn’t help matters at all. I said, “You two must be really close.” “I was glad he moved here,” he said. “You ready to put this thing up and fix me some supper?” I nodded and we smiled at each other. “Red, you are one cool dude.” He blushed and looked down, shaking his head. “Girl, you ain’t too bad yourself.” Then he pointed his finger at me. “But I mean it. Don’t mess with Earl ’cause if you do, you’ll be messing with me, too. Just like if anyone messes with you, they’ll always be messing with me. Got it?” Well…shitfire! Damn Charlene anyway! I wished I hadn’t let her get me into this mess.
Talk Dirty to Me, Baby “Uh, it’s kinda small,” I said and stood back to get a better look. Earl’s house was colossal. It wasn’t exactly a house so much as a mansion. It was built of stone, stood three stories high and sprawled out like a lazy cat on the immaculate grounds. Two giant lions sat perched on either side of the thick mahogany front door. It was beautiful, if not a little intimidating. Racing cars, it seemed, paid very well. Earl said, “Come on. We need to put these steaks in the fridge.” I followed him carrying a few bags of groceries. When he’d called earlier and said he was going to grill out, I’d tried to contain 128
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my excitement. Now I was at his house, helping him carry in the groceries I helped picked out. It was almost as if we were a…were a…couple. But we weren’t. I was strictly there on business. We went inside. I had to stop in the foyer and stare up at the enormous staircase, which ended in front of a huge picture window. I looked to the side at the mammoth living room. It was huge! I walked in, staring with open mouth at the stone fireplace and at the real wood paneled walls. He followed me in. “Like it?” I nodded and glanced to my left. I dropped my bags. Right there in front of me was what appeared to be a black velvet Elvis, just like the one I had. On closer inspection, it was apparent that Elvis’ face had been replaced by Earl’s. It was…it was…a black velvet Earl. I gulped. Oh, my God. What did this mean? “What the hell is that thing?” I shrieked. He bent down to pick up the bags then glanced over at the portrait. “Oh, one of my fans knew I was a big Elvis fan and made it for me. Like it?” “It’s the most fucked up thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” I said honestly, not taking my eyes off it. “Huh?” He seemed offended. “Oh, nothing. I…yeah.” He grinned at me. “It scared the shit out of me the first time I saw it, too.” I cracked up and grinned at him. He bent down to kiss me. Oh, the butterflies were back. Hello, there… Uh, no. I moved away quickly. That was not going to happen again. No, no and no. No! We were going to eat supper then he was going to take me home. End of story. “Hey, come on,” he said. 129
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“Uh, I…” I shook my head, trying to get my thoughts back in order. “Maybe later,” he muttered and started out of the room with the groceries. “Go have a look around. I’ll put this up.” I watched him go and felt a little sick to my stomach. I hated him. I really did. He was perfect. He was rich. He was handsome. He was caring, considerate. He had a great sense of humor, let’s not forget that. Romantic? Forget about it. He opened doors, lit cigarettes, gave little kisses and held hands. He liked to slow dance. And he loved Elvis. He got double points for that. He was not real. He couldn’t be. But, maybe, just maybe, he was. I flew out of the living room and ran up the stairs. I stopped at the window and took in the view. It was a perfect picture of rolling green Georgia hills with a few horses sprinkled here and there. An old red barn set off to the side. It needed a paint job. I grinned and continued up the side steps and wandered around until I found his bedroom. Then I almost had a heart attack. It was gorgeous. An enormous four poster bed, draped in dark red covers, sat in the middle of the room. I ran to it and jumped on. I grinned and rolled off, then went into the adjoining bath which featured a huge Jacuzzi, a separate shower stall and a long vanity—all in white marble. No wonder Charlene was so pissed off at Earl. I walked back out and looked around his closet. Why not? Just some clothes. I stopped and listened, then searched for any discerning items. I didn’t find any whips, chains or women’s shoes. Oh, well. I started out of the room, but couldn’t resist. I jumped back on the bed and hopped up and down in it. It was that kind of bed. Then I stopped and looked up. He had a mirror on the ceiling! 130
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That figured. I was about to get off the bed when I noticed he was standing in the doorway staring at me in a bemused way. “How’s the bed?” he asked. I couldn’t help but grin. “It’s nice.” He nodded, then came across the room and hopped on with me. We held hands and jumped up and down, laughing like little kids. Like I said, it was that kind of bed. I fell down and he fell on top of me. And then… Well, I don’t have to spell it out, do I? We ripped each other’s clothes off. I mean, literally ripped them off each other’s backs. That new shirt I had on was in shreds. Not that I cared. I knew there was something about him. Some little thing. Some little unconventional behavior. Some eccentricity. A little fetish. I was about to find out. My suspicions were finally confirmed. Earl was a dirty talker, plain and simple. It started out innocently enough. He moaned, “Baby, you make me so hot.” “Ummm!” I moaned and licked his neck. He must have taken a moment to gauge my reaction then he said, “I want to do you so bad.”
What the hell? He waited. I waited. The room shook with silence. I grew embarrassed. So did he. What was I supposed to do? Reciprocate? Yeah, that’s the idea. “Come on,” he urged. “Give it a try.” Was he serious? I checked. Yes, he was. Well, why not? I tried, “You make me…feel good.” I failed. “You’ve got to learn how, baby,” he said as if he were taking me under his tutelage. “Uhh…” 131
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He ran the tip of his finger along my inner thigh and said softly, “You make me so horny. You make me go wild.” He began to nibble at my neck. “Umm… Umm…uh…” The fact was I wanted to impress. I just didn’t know how. I sighed and kissed his face as I moaned, “Oh, baby, you make me so hot I can’t control myself. I want you in me now!” He got that look in his eyes, that look that said he had to have me now and then he just fell on top of me. I guess that was enough dirty taking for him, even if I hadn’t exactly got the gist of it. But then he took over, murmuring sexy, dirty words into my ear and I shouted them back, begging him to take me and do whatever he pleased. And so he did. After we were spent, we stared into each other’s eyes then collapsed away from each other. Phew! I mean, phew! That kind of sex wears you out. We lay quietly for a while—at least until we stopped gasping for breath—and stared up at ourselves in the mirror. “Why do you have that?” I asked. “It was here when I bought the house.” “Oh. Why didn’t you take it down?” “You don’t like it?” he asked. “I can take it down if you don’t like it.” I did like it. But I couldn’t just say that, could I? I mean, I didn’t even know I liked dirty talk and here I was, talking like some dirty old man. I thought it might be best if I didn’t commit myself to any other sort of fetish at that moment. “Oh, no, that’s okay,” I said and rolled over on my side. I smiled at him until he smiled back. “You’re a dirty talker.” He blushed. “Sorry. I, uh… If you don’t like it, I’ll stop.”
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“No!” I exclaimed and snuggled up to him. “I like it. A lot. What else do you do?” “What do you mean?” “Besides the dirty talk.” “I don’t talk dirty to everybody,” he said and kissed the tip of my nose. “You don’t?” He shook his head. “I have to feel really…comfortable with someone. Besides, I took it easy on you this time. We can get dirtier next time, if you want to.” Next time? Umm…how soon would that be? But then, no. I couldn’t. But then, I wanted to know something, so I said, “Have you had a lot of lovers?” I could have kicked myself. That sounded like a line from some stupid soft porn movie. Have you had many lovers, dahling? Why not just say, How many girls have you knocked boots with? “I’ve had my fair share,” he said. Fair share. In comparison to whom? How many was that? Three is fair. Eight’s a fair share. Hell, even a hundred could be his fair share. “And you don’t talk dirty to all of them?” I asked. “No. Not all,” he said. “Some women aren’t into it.” I stared at him. “So what made you certain I was?” He shrugged, then leaned over and grabbed a pack of cigarettes off the nightstand. “I didn’t know,” he said and lit me a cigarette. “I just thought… I just thought you were too perfect and there had to be something wrong with you and I’d give it a try.” “And what if I didn’t like it?” “Then you weren’t the one for me, baby.” I stared at him. What the hell was he getting at?
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He smoked a little then a big smile settled on his face. “But then you liked it.” “So?” He sat up on his elbow. “So, that’s perfect. Isn’t it?” “No. It’s just sex.” “No, it’s more than that. You don’t get that with everybody.” He was right about that. Hell, if I got that with anybody, their ass would be on booty speed dial. “So, you know my dirty little secret,” he said. “Now tell me yours.” “I don’t have one.” “You don’t have any sort of…fixation?” I stared him down. “No, I do not.” “I bet I know what it is,” he teased. “I don’t have one!” He nodded like he knew all about me. “Turn over and I’ll show you.” He could not know this. No one knew this about me. Not Charlene, not Maria, no one! It was my secret. And I planned on keeping it that way. But what’s a girl to do in a situation like this? I didn’t have much choice, so I turned over. He put his cigarette out and then gave me a little…spank. The bastard! There was no
way he knew this! “Am I right?” he asked. I could have slapped the side of his smug head. Oh, yeah, he was right! Damn it! How in the hell… I mean…who…what…when…where… No. I’d never given him any clues. None. He had to be psychic or something. Okay, I do have a spanking fetish. Sorry. I love it when a man slaps a woman’s ass. It drives me crazy. One dick did that to me
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once and I almost didn’t break his heart. I just pretended not to notice until I regained control of my senses. But I had swooned. He waited for my answer, then said, “Well?” I jumped off the bed and pointed at him. “How did you know that?!” He shrugged. “I just guessed.” “Did you read my diary or something?” “I’ve never even been to your house!” That was true. I screeched, “There is no way you could know that!” He sighed. “I could just tell.” “How?” He got off the bed and pulled me into his arms. “Nothing wrong with it, baby.” “I didn’t say there was anything wrong with it,” I muttered. “I just want to know how you knew.” “I just know,” he said and kissed the top of my head. “And I think it’s cool.” “You do?” He nodded. “Very much so. And what’s cooler is that you like dirty talk.” “I never knew I would.” “See? We’re perfect for each other.” He was going to have to stop saying that.
Suspicious Minds Why is it when you have an armload of grocery bags that the key will not fit into the keyhole? I think it’s because that way you
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can drop everything that you have precariously hung on fingers and wrists and almost break your arms in the process. “Damn you, key!” I yelled. “Go in!” It finally went in. And all the bags fell to the floor. At least the door was open now. As soon as I managed to gather all the bags and drag them inside, I noticed that Charlene was lazing around on my couch. She gave me a little wave. I shot her a glare and hissed, “Thanks for helping me.” “No problem,” she yawned. “Didn’t you hear me?!” I yelled and walked into the kitchen. She yawned again and followed me. “No, I was taking a nap.” I slung all the bags onto the counter and caught my breath. She rummaged around in the bags and pulled out a bag of chips. “You bought ranch?” she asked in disgust. “Yeah,” I said. “I bought ranch.” “Why?” “’Cause I like them?” She studied me as if she thought I was out of my mind, then threw the bag down, grabbed a granola bar and hopped up on the counter. She asked, “What’s the 4-1-1 on Earl?” “Uh…what did you just say?” She rolled her eyes. “Aren’t you ready to give me a progress report on Earl?” I didn’t stop putting up the groceries. I pretended not to hear her at first then realized she was smarter than she looked and I wouldn’t be able to get away with that. I said, “Uh, not much to tell.” She nodded. “He is a bit of a dipshit.” I realized, also, that she really didn’t know him at all. Then why was she getting so worked up over him? But, then again, why was I? I don’t want to get into it. 136
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“Wanna buy me dinner tonight?” she asked. I stopped and stared at her. “I thought you were working.” “I was,” she said. “But then I thought better of it.” “If you had a real job, you couldn’t get away with that.” “So? You don’t have a ‘real’ job, either.” She was right. And I didn’t feel like arguing. The phone rang. I shook my head at her, but of course, she picked up. “Hello? Oh, hello, Earl.” Before I knew what I was doing, I grabbed for the phone. Charlene hopped off the counter, eyeing me suspiciously. She was gonna catch on. She was too crafty not to. I stepped back. “And how are you, Earl?” she said as she eyed me. “Huh? Yeah, she’s here.” I, casually as I could, went back to putting up groceries. “This is Charlene. Charlene! Don’t you…oh, nevermind!” She thrust the phone out to me. “It’s your boyfriend.” I took it, held my hand over the mouthpiece and hissed, “He is not my boyfriend.” She raised one eyebrow. “Hey, Earl,” I said. “What’s going on? “Just you and me and maybe a little food?” he said very pleasantly. I almost smiled but caught myself just in time. “Tonight?” “Yes, please.” “No, I’m kinda busy,” I said and glanced at Charlene, who shrugged. “A girl thing.” “A girl thing, huh?” he asked. “Can I come over and watch?” “No, not that kind of girl thing.” I laughed and looked over at Charlene, who rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Well, then, how about tomorrow?”
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“Tomorrow? Umm…let me check and I’ll get back to you, okay? We’re not going to Varmint’s, are we?” “We might,” he said. “Unless you want to come back here.” As good as that sounded, I knew I had to answer in the negative. No more sex. No more dirty talk. And certainly no more spanking! “No, Varmint’s will be fine,” I said. “Or whatever.” “Sure, sweetie,” he said. “You have a great day. Oh, and by the way, if you change your mind about the girl thing…” I chuckled and said, “I’ll let you know.” “Alright,” he said. “Bye.” “Bye.” I hung up and took a deep breath to prepare myself for what was about to come. “Varmint’s?” Charlene asked dourly. I turned to face her. “Yeah, so? That’s his restaurant.” “I know that.” Of course she would know that! I could have slapped myself on the head. Dumbass! I said, not so convincingly, “I’m reeling him in, you know.” “You’re just taking your sweet time, though, ain’t ’cha?” She gave me an eat shit look, flipped her hair back, turned on her heel and made a hasty exit. She hadn’t done this in a long time. Which meant, I would have to follow her to her apartment and try to make nice. Which meant, I’d have to doubly cover my ass and pray to God she didn’t catch on. I ran after her and was on her heels when she went in her door, which she slammed in my face. “Bitch!” I hissed and pushed the door open. “What is your problem?” 138
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She didn’t respond, which gave me time to have a look around her apartment. God! How could she be so messy? There was crap strewn all over the place, overflowing ashtrays and tons of clothes wadded up and left all over. I noticed that some of the clothes were mine. Of course. It looked like a bum lived here. It was as though she was leaving it for the maid to clean up. However, she didn’t have a maid. That was the problem. No wonder she hung out in my apartment so much. This one was too far gone. “I see what’s going on,” she hissed. “And what is going on?” She flopped into her brown naugahyde recliner, popped it open and thrust her legs out. And glared at me. “Well!” I half-yelled. “You’re falling for him.” I tried to speak. Couldn’t. Tried again. Nope. “See?!” she screeched and pointed at me. Deep breath. One, two, three. Blow it out. Okay. Now I was ready. “You, my friend, are a turncoat,” she said. I gasped. “How could you say that to me?” “I can say it to you because it’s true.” “That’s bullshit! I am not a turncoat!” She scoffed, “Well, what are you doing, then?” “Look, I have to do this properly or it won’t work. If I deviate from the formula, it will fall apart.” She eyed me. “Is deviating from the formula the same thing as sleeping with him?” I was flabbergasted. Or I pretended to be. “What are you talking about?” “You’ve got it, that’s what!” “I’ve got what?” 139
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“That fresh-faced-just-fucked look.” I stared across the room at a mirror she’d carelessly hung. It was so lopsided it was a wonder it didn’t fall down. I resisted the urge to fly over there and fix it. Instead, I stared at my face. Oh, God. She was right. I had the fresh-faced-just-fucked look! It was a look of satisfaction atop a rosy glow. It was a nice look to have, really, if one wasn’t trying to do what I was attempting. “You slept with him!” she yelled. “I did not!” “Yes, you did.” “And how do you know that?” “I can see it in your eyes!” She mocked me, “‘Oh, Earl, oh, baby…’ You slept with him!” She could be so mean. I know I deserved it, but it still hurt. I tried to say something but she cut me off, “And guess what? So did I! Jackrabbit!” She tapped her palm quickly against her hand three times— jackrabbit! Which meant, he was too quick on the draw. I resisted the urge to say, So what? He lasted a long time with me. I stuck to my story, “I did not, I repeat, did not have sex with him.” “Well, I certainly did.” She crossed her legs and eyed me. Good. She was finally opening up. Now maybe I could get it out of her. “When?” I asked. “You never told me this.” “Yes, yes, I did, you were just too busy with your job.” I stared at her, not sure if I should laugh, cry or both. She continued, “I met him at a party and we’d see each other from time to time, then we lost touch. Or, shall I say, he lost touch.”
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I had to sit and quick. I walked over to the couch, sat, missed it and landed on the floor. Charlene stared down at me. “And that, my friend, proves my point. You slept with him.” I felt my face harden. “You might get reeled in by him, Tina, but, believe me, he’s just as much a son of a bitch as these others.” She was right. There was no other way about it. She was, simply, right. And I was putting my friendship with her on the line. This thing I had with Earl was no more real that what she’d had with him. He was using me, too. He was using me as a bed buddy. And I was getting reeled in. I—me!—was getting charmed by this snake. I was losing my touch. I’d have to regain it soon or it’d be too late. My vision had been clouded. Clouded by the façade of love, which doesn’t really exist. It’s all just infatuation. That’s all it’d ever be. Infatuation. Obsession. A few good feelings that eventually fade away. Fade away into reality. And that reality was life, real life that didn’t have time for romantic interludes or associations. Right? Whatever. I had to ask, “Do you love him?” “Do you?” We stared at each other in silence. I looked away first. I sat up, regained my composure and said, “No, of course not.” “Same here,” she replied dryly.
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No Cheap Thrill Instead of Varmint’s, Earl took me to this really nice Italian restaurant. We were seated almost immediately, given our menus and a nice bottle of red wine. I excused myself to the bathroom and when I came back, he was surrounded by fans. Even in this high class joint, people wanted to be near him. Amidst a swarm of activity, people were literally pulling and tugging at him. He was very good-natured about it, though. He signed cocktail napkins, shook hands, gave hugs and posed for pictures. I stood back and watched him. As much as I hated to admit it, I was in awe of him, too. It had completely blindsided me, this awe I felt for him. I don’t know why, either. It had nothing to do with him being rich or famous. I mean, if I’d met him on the street and didn’t know who he was, I’d probably like him. Just then, he looked over at me and caught my eye. His face lit up when he saw me and I know mine did too. We smiled secretively at each other for what seemed like minutes. We smiled knowing that later we’d be together and none of this would matter one bit. We smiled, simply, because we liked each other. It was as though we were the only two people on Earth. And that’s when I knew I wanted to believe. When I knew I wanted to change. When I knew I owed it to myself to find out, to see if this was real or a figment of my imagination. This, I realized, wasn’t about Charlene or about friendship. It was about me. And him. I thought, The third time’s the charm. What if this was my third time? And I had to give myself that much, didn’t I? Didn’t I deserve to find out if it really existed? If love is real?
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He gestured me over. I went to him and he stood, put his arm around my shoulders and gave me a little squeeze. “Y’all, meet Tina.” “Is she your girlfriend?” they wanted to know. “Yeah, you could say that.” ♥♥♥♥♥ I took him home that night. I must have been on some major drugs, but his house was way outside the city limits and I didn’t feel up to the drive. Besides, Charlene was at work and I’d make him leave before she got in. “Nice,” he said, nodding. He pointed to my sofa. “That’s like the couch at Graceland!” I grinned. He was the only person who got that. Yes, the dark blue couch with the yellow throw cushions was almost exactly like the one in Elvis’ TV room at Graceland. I really needed to get a life, didn’t I? He went over to it and pushed on the cushions. “I really like it.” He stood back up. “You’ve got fantastic taste. Oh! You have one of Elvis’ gold records, too.” I smiled and nodded at him, feeling very nervous. He wandered around for a little then pointed in the direction of the bathroom. “I need to use… I bet it’s that way.” I nodded at him and slipped off my shoes. Then I heard a beeping noise. The answering machine. I ran over to it and hit play, thinking it might be Charlene or Maria. It wasn’t, of course. Oh, no, it was that guy. Again. The dick: Tommy Malone. Age: 32. 143
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Profession: Works as a translator. (!!) Hobbies: Goin’ to raves, dropping E (ecstasy). Kinks: Flasher. Especially while on E. General weirdness: Has a model plane collection. (Isn’t that
enough?) Favorite band: The Beatles. Favorite movie: Trainspotting. Crime: Forgot he had a girlfriend, apparently while on drugs
then decided he liked it that way. The punishment: Hook him, convince him to destroy his model plane collection…then disappear. The plan: Get him to focus, first and pretend he’s the best guy ever. Estimated time limit: Seven days. This guy’s Scottish accent was as thick as his head. It had taken me two days to break up with him. I finally had to write him a note and slip it under his door. “Oi! Yoko!” Why had I used that name? Oh! He was a big John Lennon fan. I’d done it as a lark, but it didn’t faze him at all. He liked it. How did he get my number? Every time I changed my number, he got it. I suspected that he had a friend who worked for the phone company or something. I also suspected that he knew my real name, too, but liked calling me Yoko. “Likesay, I made a mistake. Come back to me. Are ye there?” I hit erase. The message kept playing. What the hell? “I really, really love ye. I really, really want ye back. I can do that thing with me nose again.” “Oh God!” I hissed and hit erase again. Then stop. Stop. STOP! Stop was not working. Shit! I turned it off. No. Battery backup! 144
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Earl called, “Are you okay?” “Fine!” I called back. “No matter,” Tommy continued. “Ye said ye loved me and if ye love someone, ye don’t just let them go the way ye did and—” I wrestled with the switch on the back of it. I finally got it off and pulled the battery out. It kept playing. It was possessed! It was the possessed answering machine! There was ghost in there laughing his ass off at me right now! Tommy continued, “We really had something special…” I picked the machine up and shook it. It kept playing. I dropped it and began to stomp on it. It wouldn’t shut up. I picked it up and slammed it against the wall. It still played. I held it up like a football, ready to throw it at the wall. (Or maybe out the window?) Then, just then, I noticed why it was still playing. It was still plugged into the wall. I jerked the plug out. It stopped playing. I breathed a sigh of relief. Earl cleared his throat. I jumped around and stared wildly at him. “Having a little trouble?” he asked. “Oh, no! No!” I smiled at him. “Answering machine’s broke… Need to get a new one.” “Was that your ex-boyfriend?” I felt like saying, No, Earl, that was my spurned lover. Some guy, among many guys that I’ve screwed over. For revenge. It’s a job. I get paid really good to do it. What do you think of that? Instead, I said, “Uh, uh, kinda…” “You got a lot of them?” “Oh, no more than the next girl.” I smiled at him and pointed to the couch. “Shall we?” We walked over and sat down. I breathed a sigh of relief and lit a cigarette. 145
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“I had a bad breakup,” he said. “Oh?” I asked. He nodded and took the cigarette from my mouth, took a puff, then put it back. “I need to cut down.” “Me, too,” I said and nodded. “What about your break-up?” He chuckled, “Turns out she likes girls.” I digested this then shook my head. “Did you just say…?” “Yup. She only likes girls. She gets more chicks than me. But,” he said, taking the cigarette again. “I got over it okay. It was a few years ago.” “And?” He shrugged. “Nothing, really. I mean, if she was a lesbian, then nothing I could do would make her stay cause I couldn’t give her what she needed.” I stared at him. He was so in tune with things. “So, she just decided that she was a lesbian one day?” He nodded. “Well, it was a little more complicated than that. But that’s that the way it seemed at the time.” I bit my lip. Now, if he could deal with that so well, then what I wanted to hand him might not upset him as much as previously thought. “Don’t get me wrong,” he said. “I was pissed at first. I didn’t speak to her for a year.” Or maybe not. “But we’re really good friends now. I see her all the time. She’s my publicist. A great girl. I’ll have to introduce you two sometime.” He grinned at me. I smiled a little and looked at my shoes. “What about you?” he asked. “What about me what?” “Your break-up,” he said and jerked his head over towards the demolished answering machine. 146
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“Oh, that was just a…fling or whatever,” I said. “Never had your heart broken, then?” I almost wanted to cry. I didn’t. I said, “Yeah, as a matter of fact, I have.” “What happened?” I thought about Adam. It still stung, a little. Not so much because of the break-up, but more because I’d never been able to make it right. It was one of those things that no matter how much analysis was done, it would never be “made right.” I realized I’d been staring into space for a long time. He allowed me my silence then touched me on the arm. “What happened?” he asked gently. “He was… It’s almost funny,” I said. “He was married, with two kids.” He was stunned. “Oh, shit.” “And big kids, too, not little ones. Not that it makes a difference, but still.” “That’s terrible.” “He lied. I mean, not only to me but to them. I mean, what would his kids think about me if they found out?” He shrugged. “I don’t know how he could have done that. We were going to get married. We had picked out our China and everything. And then, one day, I see him with them and I knew he was stringing me along, lying each and every day for whatever reason.” I stopped talking. Why was I telling him this? “Maybe he’s a polygamist,” he said. I laughed. “Maybe. I mean, I’m over it. I was young and foolish. I had just moved here and didn’t know anybody. I was on my own for the first time. Everything was exciting and when I met him and
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I thought all the pieces to my life were falling into place. But I got fooled.” He took my hand. “It hit me like a ton of bricks,” I said. “But it’s in the past and I’ve learned from it and I’ve moved on.” “That’s all you can do.” All of a sudden, I felt light. Like a heavy burden had been lifted from my shoulders and I realized, for the first time, that I had moved on. That I didn’t care about it anymore. And that, unfortunately, the man sitting next to me was probably the reason why. “I guess I used to be a sucker for love,” I muttered. “Used to be? What happened?” I shrugged and he leaned over and kissed my lips softly. I pulled back. I was going to tell him and let the chips fall where they may. I was going to do it. Whatever will be will be, so be it. “Earl, we need to talk.” He scooted over and leaned across me, then pulled something out of the sofa. What the hell he was doing? Looking for lost change? But that didn’t matter. What mattered was that it was now or never. Get going, girl. “Earl, I have this thing I need to tell you.” I stared into his eyes. “Can we talk?” He nodded. “Can I give you something first?” I sighed. “I guess.” I prepared myself. It was now or never. He sat a teeny tiny box in my hand. It had a pretty itty bitty red bow on top. It’s never, apparently. “Wonder what it is?” he asked.
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I grinned and tore it open. Inside was a silver ID bracelet. Engraved on one side was, Earl loves Tina and on the other, Forever. It would have been the perfect moment if I knew that I could keep it. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t ingratiate myself to him in any way. I had to give it back. I couldn’t let this go any further. I had let it go too far. I held onto the bracelet a little too long. He took it out of my hand and put it on me. It was heavy and nice. “Remember in high school when everyone was exchanging these things? I always wanted to do that. I never found anyone. Until now.” I bit my lip and nodded. He lifted my chin with his finger and stared deep into my eyes. I should tell him before it goes any further. I would just have to keep telling myself that all men are the same. They’re all assholes. He was no different. I’d tell myself until I convinced myself. End of story. He was no different. “Tina, I love you.” He was different. “It ain’t real easy for me to say, but I love you, Tina, I do.” I nodded and he waited for me to reciprocate. Why was this so hard? I’d done it a million times. I tried, “I think… I know… You love me…” He waited. “…and…” This was hard as hell. “I…love…you, too.” So much for Plan C. Now I was on to Plan D. I realized, however, that there was no Plan D. And that was going to be a problem.
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He smiled. He’d accepted my proclamation and he was very happy about it, I could tell. He leaned over and kissed me. Very softly. A kiss that made all the nerve endings stand up in my body and beg for release. A kiss that I knew would grow more intense, but was fine like it was for now. He pulled away from me. I opened my mouth to say something, but he pressed a finger to it. “Shh,” he whispered. “No talking.” I shut my mouth and listened. “I want to make love to you right now. I want to touch every single inch of your body and then I want to worship it. And I want to do it slow.” He had me hook, line and sucker. And I think he knew it.
Walking the Floor Over You The Rules for Not Falling in Love With The Dicks: 1. 2.
Remember that all men are bastards. (Some just hide it better than others.) Don’t date Earl Goodman.
For the next week or so, I avoided Charlene. I put her off by telling her that I was going to do it in a few days. The few days kept getting put off. Why? I think we all know why.
The look…of love… Damn it! I couldn’t get that damn Burt Bacharach song out of my head. Every time I thought it was gone, it came back. …is in
your eyes… At least it was the Dusty Springfield version.
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Now, if you go into this line of work and you find yourself in this sort of situation, do this: Never find yourself in this situation! The thing about love, whatever manifestation it takes, is that love is great. And, yeah, by now we all know I was head over heels for Earl. I mean, come on, I’m not that hard. Time to contemplate. I didn’t really “need” a man in my life. I was very independent and loved being so. I had my act together. My life was worked out and everything was in place. And Earl had to enter it and screw it all up! I was really mad at him about that. But the real thing I was worried about was this: After all I’ve done, did I deserve true love? I mean, really? But, really, you have to consider infatuation, which is secondary to love. Once this infatuation wears off, everything will be cool. I was gonna ride this whole thing out and not get too freaky. I was gonna be cool about the whole thing. Love, like anything else, has a science to it. It’s just putting the elements together just right. Yeah, right. Even I knew I was full of shit. It was driving me crazy. I was going all gooey. I was beyond soft. And, on top of it all, I was being devious to Charlene. I would tell him. I would. I kept telling myself that, but then I’d think of something cute he’d said, and I’d smile and meander into fantasyland. All I was accomplishing was a major case of the second guessing blues. I was continually second guessing myself over this whole damn thing. And it was driving me crazy. I’d come up with one solution, it would sound good at first then I’d break it down and eventually throw it out. It was like trying to quit smoking. This will be my last one. But it never is and you still feel like crap over 151
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it, even after you’ve just lit up. All because you second guessed yourself over it. It would be my last one if I could convince myself I didn’t need it. But then you think, What harm could come from
one more? Ugh! I decided to take a jog in the park. That always cleared my mind. It was boiling hot outside, but I thought I needed a good sweat. I ran at full speed for as long as I could, then slowed, walked, sped up and blew it out. I did this for about half an hour and when I was good and exhausted, I fell onto a park bench, breathing heavily.
The look…of love… You might be thinking, She really doesn’t deserve Earl. And you’d probably be right. You won’t get an argument from me on that one. I didn’t deserve him at all. He was too good for me. I knew that and that took him out of my league—his being good. There just weren’t many like him. Even the thought of him made me all smiley. I had to get off this cloud, cloud 9. But…I didn’t wanna. I mean, I know it couldn’t happen for us. But it would just be so nice if it could.
…of love… Damn song! I needed a cigarette. Even as I sat there gasping for breath, that damn taste was in my mouth, begging me to light one up. Go ahead. You can make this one your last one. But enjoy it. It
tastes good, right? I’d do it today, damn it! I’d quit smoking. I’d just quit. Today. Right now. I already felt better just thinking about it. Earl wanted to quit, too, so we could do it together and— And in a week’s time, there would be no more Earl.
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Just then, I heard laughter, a woman’s laugh. A little high pitched. I ignored it and told myself to get my lazy butt up and get home. I needed a shower. She kept laughing and I heard people coming up the path. I stared in that direction and I saw them—Earl and some woman, whoever the hell she was. Earl with a tall, stunningly beautiful blonde woman. Their hands were linked together. That sinking feeling came at me so quick I felt like the air had been knocked out of me. Earl with another woman. I blinked. Oh, God. It really was Earl. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God! Charlene had been right! I felt like I’d had my knees knocked out from beneath me. I couldn’t breathe, think, nothing. Son of a bitch! How could he?! Before they walked by, I jumped over the bench and headed out. I must have been out of my mind to fall for him. I needed a cigarette. Bad. I noticed the song was gone. The look of… Damn it! Wasn’t that just perfect!? Besides, if I could set a song to it, it would have been Many Tears Ago by Connie Frances, not The Look of Love, which, at this moment, was highly inappropriate.
Damn it!
Who’s Sorry Now? The thing about living in Atlanta is that they are always working on the roads. My GTO had just come to a grinding halt behind a line of traffic on the interstate, which was backed up due to construction. Go figure. …is in your eyes… 153
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“Damn it!” I yelled and lit my third cigarette. I looked around, then back. A line of cars behind me, a line in front. I was trapped. I looked to the side. An exit ramp. Umm. An exit ramp. I looked ahead, then back at the exit ramp. Yeah, I could pull it off. Before I had time to change my mind, I pulled the car to the shoulder then pulled onto the exit ramp, driving like a bat of hell up the ramp backwards, praying no cars came. I got to the street and didn’t stop. And I zoomed away.
The look…of love… Oh, it was no use. I smiled to myself proudly. I’d be willing to bet that bastard Earl couldn’t do anything like that. Then my smile faded. God! I felt like such an asshole. I’d been fooled. Well, at least I found out about it before he really had me. That was the good thing. Now I could break it off, please Charlene and get my life back in order. But not until this motorcycle cop pulled me over! Shit! Don’t these guys have anything better to do? Go catch some real criminals! And leave me alone. “Shit!” I yelled. “I hate Mondays!” He pointed to the shoulder, then back at me. I cursed under my breath and pulled over and stopped the car. The cop came up to the window and tapped on it. I rolled it down and gave him my very best smile. “Is there a problem, officer?” He bent down. “Where do we start? You exited the interstate going the wrong way. You ran the stop sign, but I guess that’s because you could only see the back of it. I clocked you at sixtyfive in a thirty-five. And you got a taillight out.” Was that all? I shook myself and turned on the charm, “Crap. Is there anyway we can avoid this? How about if I promise to be real good from now on and get my taillight fixed?” 154
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That usually worked. So, come on, scold me for a little while and let me go! He studied me, chewing on a piece of gum. That’s when I knew I wouldn’t be getting off so easy. What was his problem? “You don’t remember me, do you?” he asked. I studied him and shook my head. He leaned in and said, “I’m the guy you left on the bridge. Tony.” I stared straight ahead, my words coming back to haunt me,
“Do what you have to do. I gotta go!” That’s when I knew I was screwed. I stared back at him. Was it really Tony, the dick with an armpit fetish? He didn’t even look like the same guy. He looked doughy. He’d gained at least thirty pounds, had a buzz cut and looked like he belonged to some sort of militia group. Or, at the very least, spent an extraordinary amount of time sitting in front of the TV planning the demise of civilization. “Really?” I asked. “Is that you?” He growled at me, pulled me out of the car and handcuffed me. “You have the right to remain silent—” “Hey! Hold on!” “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a—” “You can’t arrest me because I broke your fucking heart!” He got in my face and shook his head as he said, “No, but I can arrest you for reckless fucking driving. So, shut the fuck up!” I shut the fuck up. Sometimes, life is like that.
…is in your eyes… This was not helping! ♥♥♥♥♥
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After I was booked—yeah, I got booked!—they threw me in the pokey. A very large woman with white hair looked me over good and said, “So, you gonna be my bitch?” Mama! Help! Thankfully, Red came to the rescue and I didn’t end up being anybody’s bitch. (At least not for now.) I ran crying into his arms and, after he consoled me, he bought me an ice cream cone and took me home. Maria and Charlene were waiting on me. It was slumber party night. I’d missed the last two. When I saw them, I broke down and began to cry. I spilled the beans and told them everything, right down to my fantasy of Earl’s and my wedding. I wanted both of them to be my bridesmaids and I wanted them to buy a house near us so we could see each other everyday and I wanted to have barbeques and go on vacations and do all kinds of stuff. It was awful. I had never been more pathetic. This went on for about two hours. Charlene finally left to make tea. Why tea, I don’t know. Maria sat next to me and wiped my tears. “Y’all are so great,” I bawled when Charlene handed me a cup of tea, which I didn’t want. “I just don’t get it,” she said. “I thought you hated all men.” “Hate is a little strong. Maybe I’m getting soft in my old age.” Maria stood and said, “I’ll get you some chocolate.” We watched her go, then stared at each other. We shrugged simultaneously. “Anyway….” she muttered. “Anyway…” “Yeah?” she said. Quietly, I asked, “Is it really true?” “What?” 156
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I pondered, “That all men are bastards?” “Hell yeah, it’s true!” “I’m sorry, Charlene.” She nodded. “I just hate that you didn’t listen to me.” Ouch. But she deserved that “told you so.” I stood and went towards the phone. “To hell with this,” I said. “I’m just going to call him and get it over with and—” “No, you will not!” Charlene yelled and jumped up, taking the phone out of my hand. “He’s not getting off that easy.” “What do you mean?” I asked. “Come on! This guy has been cheating on girls for years and you’re gonna let him off with a little phone call break-up? I don’t think so!” She was right. I began to pace. Thoughts were forming in my mind. Mean thoughts. Thoughts of revenge. Vendetta. Maria tapped me on the shoulder with a Snickers bar. I took it and threw it over my shoulder. I didn’t need chocolate at a time like this, I needed payback. And not just for me, but for every woman in the world who has ever been screwed over. Oh, the old feeling of loathe was coming back and it was coming back strong. “Oh, he’s slick!” I yelled. They both jumped and looked at me. I stopped and stared into space, that old wild-eyed look coming back. I must have looked deranged. I certainly felt it. “I can’t believe the bastard had me fooled. Me! I’m a pro!” I pointed to myself, then resumed pacing. “It’s real easy to get roped in by him,” Charlene said. “He’s a slick bastard. Even I got fooled by him.”
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I stopped pacing. “If all men are the same and Earl happens to be a man, then he, too, is a bastard-son-of-a-bitch-prick-dipshitdouchebag.” Charlene was loving this. It was just like old times. “Go on,” she urged. “If Earl is indeed one of those men, why should he be treated any differently?” To bring my point home, I jumped up on the coffee table and with bravado shouted at the top of my lungs, “In the name of love, in the name of vindication, I will bring this bastard down! He will rue the day he was born!” “Alright!” Charlene shouted. I pointed to Charlene. “You and I, sister will give him the dance…or something…” I pointed to Maria. “And you and I will cook him the most delicious meals!” “Chicken á la king! I make it good!” Charlene gave her a look. “You don’t even cook, Mare.” She shrugged as if that didn’t matter. I pointed to myself, “And I will destroy him, bit by bit. As soon as I have him hook, line and sucker, I will drop the bomb. He probably won’t be able to eat for a few days, he might be nauseous. But after I am finished with him, he will never treat another woman like a plaything.” To the Lord Above I prayed, God, please don’t let this be a
mistake!
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Go, Baby, Go! The dick: Earl Goodman. Age: 34. Profession: Professional racecar driver. Hobbies: Fishing, racing cars, worshiping Elvis. Kinks: Dirty talker. (Still checking into the foot fetish thing.) General weirdness: Apparently has a girlfriend. Favorite band: Creedence Clearwater Revival. And, Elvis, of
course. Favorite movie: Viva Las Vegas. Crime: Leading yours truly away from her natural calling.
Clouding the minds of millions of women with visions of Happily Ever After. Being too perfect. (No one should be allowed to get away with that!) The punishment: To make him cry like a baby. The plan: I’m pulling all stops on this one! Estimated time limit: The rest of my life, if necessary. With the help of my most excellent friends, I arranged to give Earl a special little dance at Polk Salad Annie’s, after they closed. We had all the best girls in Atlanta to help, too. Our dance was set to the tune of Joan Jett’s Do You Wanna Touch? I pushed Earl into a chair just as the music started. He put his hands behind his head and wiggled his eyebrows at me. The dick. We were all dressed in tight tanktops and Daisy Duke super tight shorts. No man who saw this show would leave unaffected. We began to grind, not dance, to the music. Slowly. After a minute of this, each of us took a turn giving him a very good lapdance. And I told the girls to turn it up.
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“I want blue balls here, ladies!” I had yelled at them and clapped my hands. Four of them had surrounded him and were doing their own special dance. He was squirming and wanted to reach out and touch so bad. But he wasn’t staring at them. He was staring at me, as if hoping to catch my eye. I looked over and a big old happy grin came across his entire face. He mouthed, “Thank you!” I stared at him, entranced. Charlene bumped me on the hip and we got back on task. Soon the song was ending and I found myself giving him the last special dance, a lapdance. He didn’t contain himself any longer. He pulled me tight and gave me deep, long kisses. I tried to pull away, but then, I just couldn’t. I wondered if I’d just wasted my time.
Later That Night… “Oh, come on, stay in bed,” Earl said and pulled me back in. “We got any of that chicken à la king left?” “I’m not sure…” I said, staring at him. Well, why not? If I was going to break his heart, I at least wanted him to be up front with me. “Wanna go see?” he asked and kissed my bare shoulder. “Earl, let me ask you something.” “You know what?” he said. “I want you to meet my old man.” “Excuse me?” “My old man. My dad. We should drive up tomorrow and meet him.”
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I groaned and got out of bed. He always did this, made me doubt what kind of dick he was. I knew, just knew, he was a liar, a cheat and no good. Then he wants me to meet his dad, like I am some-body special. It really sucked ass. Adam had never asked me to meet his parents. That could have been because they had already met his wife. I shook the thought from my head. I squared my shoulders and said, “Earl, do you have a girlfriend?” He got out of bed and came to me naked. He turned me until I was facing a mirror. “Yeah, I do. She’s the most beautiful woman in the whole world. Not to mention the sexiest.” We stared into the mirror. God. We were perfect for each other. It was terribly sad to let it go to waste. “You can tell me, you know,” I said. “I won’t get mad.” He considered something then said, “You think that because of that other guy, don’t you? The one with the wife and kids?” I groaned, then a thought filled with hope popped up, Do I? No, actually, I thought that because I saw him with another woman. He hugged me tightly. “Baby, if I had a girlfriend or was cheating on you, not only could I not look you in the eye, but I couldn’t look myself in the face, either.” He was too damn good. I should just give up, claim defeat. I was no match for him. I tried this, “What do you think about men who dump women intentionally?” “What do you mean?” “Say there’s this guy who’s been screwed over, right?” He nodded. I measured my words carefully, then, “How about this? Say for revenge sake, a guy goes around getting women to fall in love with
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him and then he…breaks their hearts. Because he was hurt once. Real bad.” He roared with laughter, “Sweetheart, people like that don’t really exist. You read that in a book or something?” I stared at him. He was an innocent. Here I was ready to eat him up and spit him out and he’d offer to buy me ice cream and give me a foot rub. “Yeah, Earl,” I said, getting a little peeved. “I read it in a book.” “What’s wrong with you?” he asked and took a step back from me. “What’s wrong with me?” I asked, getting more agitated. “What’s wrong with you? Why can’t you just tell me?” “Tell you what?” “About your girlfriend.” He studied me. “Tina, the only person I call my girlfriend is you.” So that’s the way he justified it. Wonder what he called her? His ho? The other woman? “Is there something wrong?” he asked. “Yeah, Earl, there is.” He bent down, pulled on his jeans, then leaned against the dresser as he zipped them. Then he stared me right in the eye and said, “So spit it out.” I took a deep breath. “Earl I’ve been thinking about…this whole…situation thing. And, while everything on the surface is better than good, don’t you think it’s a little weird?” “What’s weird?” “That it’s perfect. This thing we have.” “It’s not perfect.” My mouth dropped. Now he was pissing me off. I hissed, “Why not?” 162
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“Well, for one, you and I aren’t seeing enough of each other. And, secondly…well, other than that, it is perfect. Ain’t it?” He grinned from ear to ear. “You’re avoiding my question,” I said. “No, I’m just answering it the only way I know how.” “You’re an asshole,” I said. “You are. An asshole.” “Why?” he asked. “You avoid my questions.” “Your interrogation, you mean.” “No, listen! You don’t want to tell me about her, fine! I don’t care, but don’t think for a minute that I don’t know.” “What the hell are you talking about?” he asked, obviously confused. “You know good and damn well what I’m talking about!” Just then the phone rang. He glanced over at it, then at me. “Well, answer it!” I yelled, then grabbed my clothes and headed out of the room. “Tina!” I ran out of room, down the mile long staircase and out the front door. I stopped short. I didn’t have my car. Shit! He came out a second later. I turned to him. “Give me your keys. I want to leave.” He sighed. “They’re in the Mustang.” “Great,” I muttered and ran to the car, pulling my shirt over my head. “Where you going?” “Home!” “I’ll call you!” “Don’t bother!” I got into the car, started it up and burned rubber. Damn, this was such a nice car. Not that it mattered one bit! 163
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As I got to the end of the drive, I stopped. I didn’t want to leave. Maybe I just was being stupid, projecting my hurt and rage onto him. But so what? He was being evasive. If he had a girlfriend, fine, he could’ve told me. Who cares? I backed the car around and headed back. He was sitting on the steps. I got out and walked over to him. “What was that about?” he asked. Nothing. Just me running away from everything. I’m like that. Instead, I said, “I’m going to ask you one more time. Do you have a girlfriend?” He shook his head. “Tina, I wouldn’t do that to you.” “Promise?” I asked. “Cross you heart?” He nodded. “Cross my heart.” “Okay,” I said, feeling slightly ashamed at my erratic behavior. He stood, came over to me and pulled me into his arms. He whispered, “It’s okay, baby, I know why you did it.” I’m glad he did ’cause I sure as hell didn’t. “Sorry, Earl.” “It’s okay. Everybody gets into fights,” he said. “We’re not perfect. We’re just human like anybody else.” I nodded. Our first fight. Not to sound like Conway Twitty or anything, but I’d never been this far before. And I still didn’t know what the hell I was doing. It just wasn’t my style.
Thank God He’s a Country Boy It was a beautiful drive to Meigs County, Tennessee, but a long one. We finally pulled in the drive just as my ass fell asleep, then stopped in front of this beautiful log house, the kind we all wish we had. The kind that sits beside a picturesque lake. Earl got out first.
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An old hound dog came barking. Earl bent down and the dog flew into his arms. “How you doing, Mack? Say hello to the lady.” He took one of the dog’s paws and waved it at me. I bent and shook it, then patted the dog’s head. “Nice to meet you, Mack. I’ve heard so much about you.” Earl grinned. “Recognize him?” “Excuse me?” I asked, thinking he’d lost his mind. “He’s the Hellhound!” he exclaimed. “My mascot!” I stared at the dog. Well, I’ll be damned. He was—without the horns and fire, of course. Just then, this old man, who I presumed to be Earl’s father, came around the barn carrying a shotgun. He seemed somewhat cantankerous, especially after he swatted at the dog. “Git away from her!” Mack yelped and dashed off. I watched him go and almost felt that I should follow him. “I’m Roy,” he said and held his hand out. I shook it. “I’m Tina. Nice to meet you.” “Uh huh. Come on, I got supper on.” Earl took my hand and led me into the house, which was very nice and filled with antique, yet rugged furniture. “Nice place you got here,” I told Roy and smiled at him. “It’s alright,” he said. I stopped smiling. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea. Roy began to take food off the stove and set it on the table on trivets. I had never seen so much greasy, Southern fried food. There was a big bowl of fried chicken, a bowl of greens, a bowl of potato salad, some biscuits, some barbequed ribs, a plate of cornbread, and a huge pitcher of iced tea. It looked and smelled delicious. “Sit down,” Roy told me. “You don’t have to wait for no invite.” 165
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I sat down and he began to heap food on a plate. He said, “Boy, you check that oil pump on that car?” “It’s not the oil pump,” Earl said. “It’s the head gasket.” “Well, if you get out in it and get stranded, don’t come hollering to me.” “Okay. I’ll just call Red.” “How is that son of a bitch?” I cracked up. They both stared at me. I hid my smile and watched as Roy plopped a big heaping of mashed potatoes on my plate. I eyed the plate. Earl took it out of his hands and handed it to me. “In this house, that’s a small serving, baby.” He gave me a peck on the cheek. I smiled at him and thought, “I love him so.” Then I almost panicked. Push it away. Shove it off. Go on! Get rid of it. My smile changed to a frown. I took a bite of chicken. It, simply, melted in my mouth. Heaven. I was floating on a cloud headed to Heaven. Ummm…good chicken! “Good God!” I exclaimed before I could help myself. “That’s some fucking good chicken!” No. I didn’t just say that. Oh, yeah, I did. They both stared at me, mouths open. Then they cracked up. Roy pointed at Earl. “She’s a keeper, boy. She’s a keeper. You can’t let a woman who appreciates fried chicken like that get away.” “I don’t plan on it,” Earl muttered, looking sideways at me. I stared back then looked away. After dinner, Roy began to pelt me with questions, “So, what do you do for a living?” “Well, umm, Mr. Goodman—” “Call me Roy.” “Well, Roy, I’m an independent contractor.” 166
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He studied me. “Independent contractor, huh? I was watching this show on the satellite the other night. It was on hitmen. You know them fellers that kill people?” “Yeah…” “They call themselves independent contractors, too.” He gave me a look. “You ain’t one of them, are ya?” “Oh, no, sir, I, uh…” Roy cracked up. “I’m just joking.” “Oh. Ha ha!” “You wanna go fishing sometime? I’ll bait your hook for ya.” Was Earl’s father a dirty old man? I eyed him. He was joking, and getting a big kick out of cross-examining me. I could see it in his eyes. I smiled back at him. “Sure. Why not?” Earl excused himself. As soon as he left, Roy leaned in. “Nice of you to bring him home.” “It was his idea.” “’Bout broke my heart when he moved off.” He smiled at me. “But it looks like he’s found him a good woman and that’s all any man needs. I know I sure as hell could use one.” Alrighty then. He eyed me. “You ain’t got no girlfriends, do ya?” I cracked up, “I’ll see what I can do.” He winked and picked up a toothpick, stuck it in his mouth then said, “I’m gonna be straight with you, okay?” I sat up taller in my seat. “Sure. Okay. Fine. What about?” “Most of these girls he sees are only interested in his money, but he’s like me. He can see right through just about anybody.” “Yeah?” “He doesn’t bring most of ’em home,” he said. “Last one I seen was named Kate. Don’t know whatever happened to her.”
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Kate would be a lesbian now, Mr. Goodman. I decided it was best not to divulge that bit of information. “But I can tell you ain’t like that, are ya?” I wished to God that I was only interested in his money. I’d already have it and be gone. “No, I’m not interested in his money. I do okay myself.” “Killing people?” he asked then roared with laugher. “Uh…ummm….” He smiled at me in a fatherly way. I really liked him and I didn’t want to lie to two people at the same time, so I set him straight. “Uh, Roy, Earl and I really aren’t that serious. We’re mostly friends.” “Friends don’t look at each other like the way you two do.” I blushed. He was right. Tonight. I’d do it tonight. It would be hard and I’d get what I deserved. And I’d get though it. “We’re not that serious, sorry,” I said and felt a heart pain. “That right? Wouldn’t be fair to string him along, would it?” “No, I guess not.” Earl came back in with an old photo album. He was shaking with excitement. “It’s got all my old pictures in it, Tina,” he said and pulled me over to the loveseat. I sat down beside him then looked over at Roy, who was chewing on his toothpick and eyeing us. He was on to me. He stood, turned to leave the room, then turned back around and said, “I’ll be wanting me a grandbaby sometime this century, Earl.” Then he left the room, leaving both of us flabbergasted. And embarrassed. ♥♥♥♥♥
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“Red told me you were a realtor,” Earl said in the car, first thing. “Huh?” I asked. “A realtor. You told my old man you were an independent contractor.” Think! Think quick. “Well I’m both,” I lied. “I’m on my own.” “Oh.” He took my hand and kissed it. “I really liked your dad, Earl,” I said and meant it. And hoped he would change the subject. He nodded. “And he really liked you, I could tell.” I smiled sadly. I hated this! I hated it! I wished I could get out of the car and walk all the way home. I deserved to. But what if he was stringing me along? None of it added up. And what about that chick in the park? I’d just ask him about her. “Earl, one day—” “Wanna know something?” he asked then said quickly, “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cut you off.” “Oh, no, that’s okay.” “Go ahead,” he said. “No, you first.” He smiled. “My dad used to race.” “Cool.” He nodded. “He taught me everything I know.” “I’d assumed that.” He grinned. “We used to race on this little old dirt track up in Lenoir City. We had so much fun then. We each had our own cars. That’s how I got started racing, up there. During one race, the head gasket in my car blew.” I gave an appropriate gasp. “Yeah! I know. It sucked. I was getting better and better, too, and I needed to win this race, to put me in the finals, you know? 169
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And that meant I’d start getting notice, some sponsorship and whatnot.” I nodded. “So, my car is carted off the track and I’m just drenched in mud and so pissed off, you wouldn’t believe. And then, I saw my dad, pulling his car off the track and coming towards me and I yelled at him, ‘Get back on the track! You’ll lose your points!’ But he got out and told me, ‘Son, you’re the only one with something to lose tonight. Now get your ass in that car.’” He wiped at his eyes. I wiped at mine. How sweet! I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You know,” he said. “It was the hardest thing in the world, to admit I was better than him. That I could make it and that meant, he couldn’t.” “But look how great everything turned out.” “I still regret it, Tina. He gave me that chance that nobody gave him.” “He did it because he loves you.” “I just wish we could have both done it, is all.” He cleared his throat and glanced sideways at me. “You never asked me about her.” I froze. Oh, well. Here we go. Let’s get it over with. I tried to stay cool. “Who are you referring to?” “My mom.” Wrong again! I sat up and smiled over at him. “Uh, didn’t want to pry.” “Red told you, didn’t he?” “Yeah, he did,” I said and nodded. “When did she leave?” “When I was about ten.” “That’s too bad.”
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He nodded. “Yup. Took off with a salesman and never came back. Some women do that, you know.” I wanted to break down and cry. I was a bad, bad person. And he was good. Even if there had been that chick in the park. Who knew who she was and who cared? I was there with him and that’s all that mattered. She wasn’t there, was she? No. I was. “Are your parents still together?” he asked. “Yeah,” I muttered, thinking, he should be me. He should be the heartbreaker, not me. He deserved to be me more than I did. He’d had it a lot rougher. “I dropped out of high school,” he said, then ducked his head like he was embarrassed. “What?” “I dropped out. I don’t have a diploma or anything.” “You’re kidding.” “Nope.” “Why did you drop out?” “It seemed like the right thing to do,” he said. “We were broke all the time. It was best that I got a job to bring some money in.” He was going to make me cry. This was too much. “I just always regretted that,” he said. “And the other thing, too. You regret anything?” Yeah, I do, I thought. I regret what I’m about to do to you. I regret it and it hadn’t even happened yet. He was waiting. “I regret that… That I didn’t find you sooner.” He smiled. “Yeah. I know what you mean.” I stared out the window. Trees were whipping by quickly. I glanced over at the speedometer. He was doing eighty-five! But the thing was I didn’t even feel it. He took the car around the curves like it was a straight road. I smiled at him, all leaned back, his arm across the back of my seat. He glanced over and smiled back at me. 171
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“Since we’re being all honest and everything now, Earl, why did you break up with Charlene?” “Excuse me?” he asked. “Look, she told me. I know. You used to date her.” “No, I didn’t,” he said and gave me a sideways glance. “I didn’t. Honest to God.” “Then what…” “I’ll level with you. I like Charlene, she has a kickass attitude that I appreciate. She and I hooked up at a party once. That’s all. We were both drunk and I couldn’t… God, this is so embarrassing, I couldn’t perform…adequately. She got real pissed off and stomped out of the room and I never saw her again until a few months ago at my birthday party.” Uhh…what? I turned away from him and stared straight ahead. Had Charlene lied to me? No. She just didn’t tell the whole story. She hadn’t elaborated when she needed to. That little bitch! “I’m sorry, Tina. I’m sorry if I acted like a dick. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t live in Atlanta then, so I didn’t see much use of trying to…you know. She’s a great girl, but she’s just not…you.” She didn’t want anyone to have him if she couldn’t. She had fixated on him, the answer to all her male problems. And I’d got caught in the middle. And now because of her I had all this bullshit to deal with. “You won’t tell Red or anything, will you?” he asked. “I know he likes her and I wouldn’t want to hurt him.” “No,” I said truthfully. “I won’t say a word.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks. Hey, you wanna get a room somewhere? It’s getting late.” I checked my watch. It was only six. “No. I need to get back and do a few things.”
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Jinx! “Don’t tell me I missed slumber party night again.” I threw my bag down and stared at Maria and Charlene. They were on my couch drinking wine. “If it isn’t the heartbreaker herself,” Charlene muttered. “Charlene, I am not in the mood.” “What’s wrong with you?” Maria asked. I shrugged. I wasn’t going to confront Charlene now. I was too angry. I wished they’d just leave me alone. “She’s in love with Earl,” Charlene quipped. “I am not in love with Earl!” “Coulda fooled me. And the rest of the world.” She lit a cigarette. “Look, I don’t give a shit anymore. Do what you like, but remember when he finds out what you do for a living, you won’t have to worry about breaking his heart.” “Is that a threat or something?” I snapped. “No. It’s a promise.” “You can be a real bitch,” I said. “What of it?” “Nothing,” I said, almost glowering at her. “I’m used to it.” “You bitch!” she seethed. “You think since you got rid of your bimbo hair that you are some-body!” “Then maybe you should get rid of your bimbo hair, too.” “I’m a natural blond!” she yelled. “Like hell you are!” I yelled back. “Look, girls—” Maria tried. We screamed at the same time, “Shut up, Maria!” Charlene stared at me. A long, slow smile came to her lips. Oh, no! She shouted, “JINX!” 173
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Nooooo! My Achilles heel—superstition. Now I couldn’t say a damn word until she said my name! Which meant, Charlene now had the upper hand. Daaammmmmnnn! “That’s right,” she said, nodding. “You’re gonna have to shut up and listen to me, whether you like it or not.” The little bitch! “So…” she said then began to parade around the room. “You’ve been roped in by Public Enemy Number One, Earl Goodman. On the surface, he seems so very nice and almost…perfect. But at the heart, he is still a man. A user of women. He used me and he is using you.” Damn her! “That day you started this business, we made a vow to stick together as sisters and to help one another out. You have broken that vow.” She didn’t mention that she had been more than willing to break it. “Besides, the longer you wait, the harder it will be.” Damn her. She was right, though. Maria couldn’t take it anymore, she yelled, “Tina!” Saving grace. I was released from the jinx. I shouted, “You lied to me!” “So what? He deserves this more than any other dick. He’s got the world on a string and doesn’t deserve it.” “Why not?” I asked. “He’s cold.” “He’s not either,” I said. “He’s calculating.” “Oh, right!” I scoffed. “You’re not going to do it, are you?” she asked and narrowed her eyes. 174
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“Do what?” “Break his heart.” When I didn’t respond, she huffed, “That’s what I thought.” “I am going to break his heart!” “Then do it before he finds out!” She went to the door, then came back pointing. “Do you remember when that dick Adam broke your heart?” I groaned. “Yeah, that dick, the dick. Do you remember who helped you? Me! And we made it, didn’t we?” “Yeah, we made it, Charlene! Just like Laverne and fucking Shirley!” “I don’t see a man in that picture, missy, not one! I don’t give a shit about Earl, not one shit. But you and me, I care about.” “What does this have to do with anything?” I asked. “If you want to fly to the moon with Earl, you go right ahead. But—” “Char—” “—don’t ask me to catch you when he drops you on your ass!” I stared at her. “And he will, you know?” I looked away. She turned on her heel and took out of the room. I threw my hands up. “Damn!” Maria shouted, then calmed down. “Well, are you going to do it?” “Huh?” I asked. “Your job. Are you going to do your job?” By her saying that, I knew she was now on Charlene’s side. And the fact was I didn’t know what I was going to do. Was I going to break his heart or follow my own? What was I going to do? I hung my head. “I don’t know. I just don’t know what to do.” 175
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She walked over to me and patted my back. “You’ll figure it out soon.” I gave her a weak smile. “Not soon enough.” Charlene flounced back into the room and grabbed the bottle of wine off the coffee table. I stared at her. She stopped in the doorway and said, “Tina, the fact is, you don’t know this guy. You don’t know what he’s capable of. But the one thing that you do know is that he has some other woman and that fact just seems to escape you!” I dropped my head. She was so very right. But… “You don’t know him either.” She scoffed. “Yeah, right. I know he’s a man, like any other man and he’s a shit, Tina! A shit!” I glared at her, suddenly becoming very angry, more angry than before. “You just don’t want me to be happy, do you?” Her mouth dropped. “What the hell does that mean?” I walked over to her and got in her face. “You can’t stand it, can you?” “Stand what?” “That he likes me,” I said “Which means he doesn’t like you.” “You best get out of my face.” “Make me.” She gave me a little shove. I shoved her back. Her eyes narrowed to slits. She growled, “I’m warning you, girl.” I pushed her on the shoulder. “Warning me? Huh? You warning me?” “Girls,” Maria began. “Don’t do this.” “Fuck off, Maria,” I said, and realized I was pissed at her, too. I felt ganged up on by both of them. Charlene took this opportunity to give me another shove, a hard one. I tripped and fell down. She burst into laughter. 176
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“Oh, is this funny? This is probably funny, too,” I said and grabbed her leg and pulled her down. The wine bottle dropped and rolled under the couch. (Thank God it was corked!) Charlene fell face-first onto the floor. She got up, blew the hair out of her face and grabbed me by the head of the hair. “You don’t know who you’re messing with!” she shouted. I grabbed her arm and pushed it behind her back and yelled, “Neither do you!” We glared at each other for a minute and held on tightly but didn’t move. Neither one of us knew whether we wanted to continue or just laugh it off. We decided to continue. A full-blown catfight ensued, with much cussing, much scratching and much hair pulling. “Get off, bitch!” she yelled as I pushed her down. “Make me, bitch!” “Fuck you!” she yelled and rolled over, then began to pull at my hair. I grabbed her hands then she grabbed my shirt. And ripped it apart! Damn her! I did the same thing, only realizing afterwards that it was my shirt she was wearing. Just as well. We rolled over and continued to beat the living daylights right out of each other until Maria somehow managed to pull us apart. She held onto my middle and wouldn’t let me go. I struggled and kicked but it was no use. She’s a strong girl. Charlene got up and shook her fist at me. “All of this over a man!” she screamed. “No! It’s more than that! It’s over,” I said and counted on my fingers. “Borrowed money, investing in porkbellies for you! For the Rainbow Gathering! For the time you forgot my birthday! For the time-share scam in Daytona Beach! For all the long distance bills and all the times you’ve eaten the last piece of cake!” 177
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“What about you? You’re not so perfect!” “I never said I was!” I roared. “Ha! You parade around like you’re better than everybody! You think you have the power to change someone like Earl fucking Goodman and I’m here to tell you that you can’t!” “I’m here to tell you I’m gonna try!” She stopped and stared at me. Maria finally released me. I stomped over to Charlene and shouted in her face, “And I’m also here to tell you that you will not stand in my way!” She nodded. “Well, by all means, Tina, don’t let me stop you.” “I didn’t plan on it.” A moment of silence as we snarled at each other. “I’m never talking to you again!” she huffed and started out of the room. “I should be so lucky!” I screamed at her. Maria stood back and watched her go. I ran over and pulled the wine bottle out from underneath the sofa. “You forgot this!” I yelled and then threw the bottle at her. She closed the door just in time. The bottle hit the door, dented it then fell to the floor. I took a breath and tried to calm down. We stood in silence for a very long time then Maria put her arm around my shoulders and said, “It’s okay, chiquita. She’ll be back.” “When?” I asked. “When she runs out of wine.”
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Don’t Go Breaking My Heart The racing track was completely deserted, but I knew he’d be here. I walked towards his pit then stopped short when I heard Earl yelling at his pit crew. “Let me tell you one thing, you bunch of assholes, if anyone of you ever tries to pull that shit again, and I mean this, you’re fired and I mean, by God, fired.” My mouth dropped. I’d never heard him talk like this—never! But he was the boss and the boss sometimes yelled. I just never expected it out of him. Earl continued, “You are out on your ass. This is the last time I say anything about this shit, too! If you sons of bitches can’t get your shit together—” He stopped when he saw me. He was very embarrassed. He gave me a weak smile. “Oh, hi, honey,” he said and gave a slight, nervous chuckle. “Just giving the boys a little pep talk.” The crew looked over at me. I gave them a little wave. Red walked past me carrying a cooler. “Hey, Tina.” “Hey, Red.” “Earl, did you give them sons a bitches a good talkin’ to?” “Yeah, uh huh, we had a little…talk.” He walked over to me, kissed my cheek and steered me away from the pit. “What’s going on?” I smiled at him and pulled out a book entitled, Preparing for the GED. I said, “You know, the general education diploma.” He nodded and eyed the book. “That’s so sweet, honey. Thanks.” I grinned at him. “I’ll help you do it, Earl. It won’t be that hard.” 179
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“I’ll think about it,” he said. “Right now I don’t have the time but soon…” He kissed my temple. “Hey, I’m trying out a new car. You wanna hang around?” “Oh, no,” I said. “I just wanted to drop this off.” “Okay,” he said. “Thanks again. I love you.” I smiled. “Love you, too. I’ll let you get back to work.” He gave me another kiss then I went to my car and drove off. I was about five miles from the track when my cell phone rang. It was Charlene. “Hey,” she said. “Hey.” “So…what’s up?” “Nothing,” I said. “What’s up with you?” “Look, let’s cut the crap,” she said. “I want you to know that I’m sorry, okay?” I gave a huge sigh of relief. Tears streamed down my cheeks. I cried, “I’m sorry, too. I don’t know what got into me. I didn’t mean any of that and I’m glad I didn’t hit you with the wine bottle.” “What wine bottle?” she sniffled. I paused then said, “Uh…nothing. I’m just so sorry. Let’s don’t ever fight again.” “Okay.” We always say this stuff. And we always fight after it, too. Which was one of the reasons we were still friends, I guess. “Charlene,” I said. “I’m sorry all this got so screwed up in the first place.” “Me, too,” she said. “Listen to me, Tina. If you want him—and I know you do—I won’t get mad.” She took a breath. “He just really pissed me off.” “That’s understandable.”
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“And…you and me, damn it, Tina! You and me go way back. Men have come and gone but we’ve always been there for each other, right?” “Right,” I said and wiped at my eyes. “Maybe I was overreacting just a little bit. You know what a bitch I can be.” I cracked a smile. “Yeah, I know.” “You ain’t nothing to sneeze at, either, ya know?” “I know. And I’m sorry.” “And I’m sorry I kicked your ass,” she said. “Hold on,” I replied. “I kicked your ass. Remember?” “Is that before or after you cried like a little girl?” I laughed. “You bitch.” “Well, you’re this bitch’s best friend, so that makes you a bitch by association.” “I guess it does.” “Let’s don’t ever let this happen again.” “Okay.” “Phew,” she said. “So, what do you want to do tonight?” I considered. “How about I order some barbeque and ask Earl and Red over?” “How about you kiss my ass?” I laughed. “Maria can come too, you know.” “Hell, I’ll just go into work, then.” “You sure?” I asked. “Yeah, I’m sure. Call me if you need me.” “Will do.” She hung up. I smiled. Maybe it could all work out. Maybe it could. I got an idea then. I turned the car around and headed back to the track.
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With the full intention of coming completely clean with Earl, I walked towards the pit. Red and some other guys were hanging around. “Hey, girl,” Red said. “I thought you left.” “I need to talk to Earl. Have you seen him?” “He’s in his trailer.” “Oh.” He nodded at me. “You know, his concentration is off.” I couldn’t help but grin. “Aw, really?” “Really. Bad. You might consider going on vacation until the end of the season.” He took off without another word. I stared after him. “Well, thank you.” I found Earl’s trailer a few minutes later. I didn’t prepare a dialogue, I was just going to come clean and hope for the best. If he never wanted to see me after this, then I was willing to accept that. But I knew, just knew, it was the right thing to do. If we had any kind of future together, he’d have to know. And that meant I’d have to come clean. I stopped and touched the door, which was cracked open about halfway. I hesitated before I opened it. There were voices coming from inside. I peered in and I’ll be damned! There he was, with that same chick he’d been with in the park. The same one! Why was this bitch?! They were grinning at each other and sitting very, very close. I felt sick. No, it was worse than that. I felt like I was going to throw up. I’d been bamboozled. The gig was up. How could he have done this? Now what was I going to do? Follow my heart or do my job? It didn’t really seem like I was going to get what I wanted. The
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evidence was there before me, wasn’t it? So, the choice really wasn’t a choice anymore. It was a duty. I flew out of there before I had a chance to make a scene. But as I went, I thought, Served me right.
Later That Night… I opened the door. Earl grinned at me and held up a bouquet of daisies. He had some nerve. “Yeah, whatever,” I said and walked into the living room. He followed me in, placed the daisies on the credenza and smiled at me. “I’m glad you called.” He bent to kiss me. I pushed him off. “What’s wrong?” I sat on the arm of a chair and shrugged. I didn’t look at him, it was too painful. I simply said, “Earl, this isn’t going to work.” “What?” He gave me an intense stare. “You’re joking, right?” “I don’t see either one of us laughing, Earl.” “You’re serious?” he asked and checked me out, as if just to make sure. “I’ve never been more serious in my life.” He really couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He shook his head. “This is bullshit and you know it.” “All I know is that we’re over and you need to go.” “You can’t do this,” he said. Now he was shaking all over. He was getting angry. I’d seen this before. I wished I’d met him in a public place. “But I am, Earl.” “What we got is real, Tina.” “Yeah, Earl. Real shit.” I went to the front door, opened it.
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He came up behind me and slammed the door shut. “Why don’t you tell me what this is really about?” It’s about you being just like all the others, Earl. It’s about you being a liar, a cheat and a two-timer. I didn’t say these things. I wanted to, but I didn’t. I didn’t need to say what we both already knew. “I’ll tell you, Earl,” I said. “It’s about you walking out that door and never looking back.” “No, it’s about you leveling with me.” I stared him dead in the eye. “Don’t make me be mean.” “Don’t make me,” he replied. “I thought we had something special.” “Just go, Earl! You’re making this harder than it already is!” Tears streamed down my face, I didn’t even know they were there. I was ashamed of them, ashamed to let him see me cry. I didn’t want to show weakness, even then, after all that. “Tina, tell me what’s wrong.” I screamed, “I don’t love you, okay! I just don’t!” The words had a really hard time coming out because I had a really hard time saying them. And they really pissed him off. “You don’t love me? Huh!” I jumped a little. He picked up the hall table and threw it across the room. “Well fuck it all then!” I was now crying. It just started and I couldn’t stop it. “Yeah, go ahead and cry. You women deserve everything you get for treating men like shit.” He paused then added, “It’s good to know that you’re all the same.” My eyes widened. My words. He’d spoken my words. “Yeah. You know what I mean, too.” Yeah, he was right. I did. “Whatever, Earl.” 184
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He calmed down a little. “Tina, why are you doing this? What’s the big deal?” The big deal is that you betrayed me and no one ever looks the same after they’ve betrayed you. The big deal is that I believed in you. You made me believe in something again. In this part of myself that I thought was dead. And for what? It was all a farce. It was all a lie. You’re just like the rest. When I didn’t respond he said, “This figures.” “Just leave, Earl.” “I thought you were special.” “Disappointed much?” He scoffed. “Yeah, you could say that. I don’t know why I even try. I mean, you women aren’t worth it. I put up with all kinds of shit and for what? A little love? A little special feeling? Look, I give up. I accept defeat! You’re not worth it.” That stung. Bad. “What do you have against men, anyway? Why do you want to torture us, day in, day out?” He glowered at me. “Huh!” I jumped. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to trust another woman again.” “I know how you feel.” “You don’t know shit, Tina. You don’t know shit.” “I know—” He cut me off. “You have no idea how I feel! Look at you! Have you ever had your heart trampled on? Have you ever done everything in your power to make someone else see how much you love them and they don’t believe you?” The tears were now streaming down my face. He was right. He was oh, so very right. I nodded. “You don’t know,” he said. “You couldn’t.”
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I sobbed my words, “Oh, yeah? Well, you don’t know much about me.” “Then, tell me.” I couldn’t, I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. I should have but I couldn’t. “I mean, what’s the big deal?” he said. “We found each other. We’re in love. That’s what matters.” The big deal? Because you lied. I’ve been lied to before. That’s okay. But you lied to me and that’s not. “You can trust me,” he said. Oh, yeah, sure. But can you trust me? It took me a very long time to be able to trust people. To fully trust again and guess who I trusted the most? You, Earl. You. And look what you did. Why did you do it? What was the point? “No, Earl, I can’t.” “Yes, you can. And I know you love me, Tina, I know that. I wouldn’t be so mad if you didn’t.” I’m a bad, bad person. “Why?” he asked, more quietly. “Earl, I can’t love you. I can’t love anyone.” “Why not!” “Because I can’t!” “You know, I knew something was wrong. You were too perfect.” He looked at me. “Why is that, Tina? Why were you perfect?” “I knew something was wrong, too. You were too perfect yourself.” He stared at me. “Why is that a problem, Tina?” Why was it? I said, “It’s a problem because… Because…” “It’s a problem because nothing is wrong,” he said. “And you know it! Nobody is perfect.” 186
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He was right. No one was perfect. Not me. Not him. We were just caught up in this game, this stupid love game, trying to see which player cared the most and which one didn’t care at all. We were too caught up in our own feelings to even think about theirs. How good this love made us feel, at first, then how bad it all turned out. Why can’t we just take each other for what we are? People, plain and simple. These games tormented us. And we let them. Don’t we? “Why did it all fall apart?” he asked softly. I sniffled, “Because it always does.” That was lesson number one in this game. It all falls apart, it always does, for some reason. And then I’m there, exacting revenge for the heartbroken, for the people like me. For the ones who once believed in love, then knew it was nothing more than a word you read in books and heard in movies. And whispered at night. “It doesn’t have to, baby,” he said. “Whatever’s wrong, we’ll fix. I’ll do whatever it takes to make it right.” “Nothing is wrong, Earl.” I nearly choked on my tears. “It just wasn’t…meant to be.” I stared up at him. I was so distraught. My heart was truly breaking. Again. It was that old familiar feeling of self-loathe combined with true yearning, a yearning for something that didn’t exist in any reality. A yearning for it all to be right, but knowing it never would be. He nodded at me. “So, this is it?” I nodded. “Yup.” “There is something to be said for happy endings, Tina.” “That’s not relevant in this case, Earl.” His head dropped and he looked almost ashamed. That had probably been his last-ditch effort. He pulled a ring box out of his pocket. Why was he doing this? Why? 187
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“I’m just an idiot,” he muttered. “I thought we had something, and I’d never had what we have with anyone else, Tina. But I guess I was wrong.” It took everything in my body to hold me back from him. I so wanted to leap into his arms and tell him I was PMSing or had temporary lost the usage of my senses. There he was. I could do it. But something held me back. That something was knowing he had lied to me, even when I’d asked. And that he was like all the rest of them, as good as he was, he was still deep-down like the rest. That broke my heart more than anything. And it wasn’t because I wanted to be proven wrong on that front, it was because I’d wanted him to prove me wrong. And he hadn’t. He’d failed. Now I couldn’t believe, not in him, not in love, not in anything. I wanted to, so badly, but I couldn’t. I had too much time invested. And too much pride. “I guess I won’t be needing this.” He set the box in my hand. “I, uh, I bought that years ago, swearing that one day I would find a lady who could wear it.” “I’m no lady, Earl.” He nodded. “I know that now, Tina.” I cringed.“Earl—” “Why don’t you pawn it? It doesn’t mean anything anyway.” He opened the door and walked out. And I, literally, crumbled. Why didn’t I just gouge his eyes out, too? If I could have set a song to it, it would have been Belle by Al Green. It was that deep. It was as much a choice for me then it had been for old Al and Belle. Whoever she was.
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Life Made Her That Way, a Song by Charley Pride I cried, wept, had several emotional breakdowns, and went through all that post break-up bullshit that drives a person absolutely insane. I couldn’t isolate the pain, either. I just hurt all over. Charlene and Maria were there to wipe my tears, but I didn’t want them. I didn’t want anyone. I’d brought this on myself and I was going to deal with it. Alone. One morning I woke and thought, “I’m going to tell him.” I dressed hurriedly and called his house on my way out. The maid answered and told me it was race day. I decided to go to the race, sit until it was all over and then I’d tell him everything. Not so much for him as for me. I had to do it. It would be cathartic. When I got there, Earl was racing like a bat out of hell. I heard over the intercom, “I tell you, that Earl Goodman has been like a bat out of hell! He is driving like the proverbial man on a mission.” I raced out to see his car squeeze in between two others and shove them out of the way. I didn’t want to watch, but I couldn’t help myself. Everyone in the stands was watching him in amazement. The announcer continued, “He hasn’t driven like this in years. This champ is taking a lot of chances out there, folks. Whoa, watch out!” Earl nearly lost control of his car after he bumped another one out of the way. But he speed past as if he had to finish the race in no time flat and nothing was going to get in his way. I felt like absolute shit. I should have left.
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He was now in the lead, but obviously that wasn’t good enough. He picked up such speed that the front of his car rose off the track. Let’s just say that what happened next was the most horrific thing I’d ever seen. Earl and about three other drivers got into a very bad wreck after that and all their cars began to flip. His was the last one to flip. It landed on its roof off the track. Oh, dear Lord above. I began to feel really, really sick and found myself racing towards his car, pushing past people, trying to get to him. I had to do something. I got there just as they pulled him out of the car. He was covered in black smoke. He tried to stand then fell to the ground. Paramedics were helping him up just as I ran to him. “Are you okay?” I cried and grabbed his hand. He jerked it away and glared at me. “Is it true?” “What?” “What you do for a living?” He jerked his head towards Red, who shrugged at me. I looked back at him and nodded. I could tell he just wanted to spit in my face. He said, “Fuck you.” With those two words, he cut me down to size. I could not have felt worse. As I watched him walk away, I knew it was over. And this time there would be no going back. And I knew, deep down, that I’d been foolish. I’d made the biggest mistake of my life. Love does exist. It really does. I just hadn’t believed. And this is what I got for it. A broken heart I’d brought on myself. I had basically broken my own heart. By my own stupidity. By my own admission. By letting my past experiences and guilt guide me. By not believing. By refusing to believe what was in my heart the whole time. 190
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Red whispered in my ear, “I didn’t tell him to be mean to you. I told him ’cause he was hurtin’ so bad.” Tears began to stream down my face. “You men sure do stick together, don’t you?” I muttered and burst into sobs.
Release Me Now if anything like this ever happens to you, what you need to do is sit back and not let it bother you. Don’t take it to heart. Don’t let it be your downfall. Not like I did. I gave up on it all. I was now an out of work heartbreaker. I couldn’t do it anymore. Not after Earl. He was too special, twotimer or no two-timer, he was just too damned special. ♥♥♥♥♥ Maria said, “Why is it so hard to find men who are sensitive, caring and good looking?” “Why?” I asked. “Because those men already have boyfriends.” I cracked a smile. “That’s funny.” “Come on! It’s been a month!” “It took me a lot longer than a month to get over the first bastard who did this to me.” “It’s okay, chiquita, there’s more fish in that sea.” “God, I hope not.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, Charlene bounced into the room carrying a bucket of chicken. “It’s finger lickin’ good!” She came over to the couch and pulled me up. “Come on, mopey, you can’t disappoint the Colonel.” We went into the kitchen. 191
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“Are you still mad at Red?” she asked and plopped a plate of chicken down in front of me. “It’s hard to stay mad at the man who changes your oil.” We cracked up. “Anyway, it was for the best.” I considered. “I would like to tell Earl I’m sorry, though.” “Why don’t you?” Maria asked. “Oh, I don’t know…’cause he hates my guts?” They didn’t object, which was just as well.
Back at the Diner That just about brings us up to date. When I finished my story, I drew a breath. I had talked so much, my jaw was sore. I moved it around and said, “So, just remember, never get involved in the way I did and you’ll do just fine.” The two girls, Nicki and Ally, stared at me, mouths agape. A new kind of respect was in their eyes. “So, what do you think?” I asked them. Nicki exclaimed, “My God! You went out with Earl Goodman?” That was not the reaction I’d been hoping for. I mean, after all that? I’d told them everything—well, almost everything. I really don’t kiss and tell. Ally said, “Are you out of your mind? Earl Goodman?!” I had half-hoped I’d get the sympathy vote. Okay. I was stupid. I know that. Nicki said, “Are you crazy? That chick could have been a groupie!” Why hadn’t I thought of that? 192
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“Yeah,” Ally interjected. “Racecar drivers are like rock stars or something.” “Thanks, y’all,” I said. “It’s not like I don’t feel bad enough.” They were staring at me, slightly shaking their heads and doing that “Tutt, tutt,” thing. I hated the tutt tutt. I also despised being shushed. If you want to get under my skin, just shush me. Shhh! I hate that. Ally said, “Heartbreaker or not, that’s some deep shit.” I couldn’t have said it better myself. But I didn’t tell them that. “So, that brings us up to date,” I said and gathered my purse. “Girl,” Nicki said. “You better get your butt in that car and go after him.” “I can’t.” “Why not?” “It just wouldn’t work, that’s why.” They glanced sideways at each other. I sighed and said,“It’s complicated, okay?” “But it doesn’t have to be,” Ally said. She had a point. I was just too stupid to realize it. But then I realized that even though some time had passed, my feelings hadn’t changed. I was still in love with Earl and I still wanted him. “Just go,” Nikki said. “If you don’t, you’ll always regret it.” She was right. There was nothing left to do but go see if he still wanted me. Then I could release myself once and for all.
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Love and Happiness I’m going to be really pretentious here. “‘Think of how you love me,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t ask you to
love me always like this, but I ask you to remember. Somewhere inside me there’ll always be the person I am tonight.’” I smiled and closed the book. Tender Is The Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald. That had to be one of my most favorite lines in a book. Just thought I’d share that. I sighed and stared at Earl’s driveway. It was fall now and the trees that lined it were bright orange. It was kind of chilly but I had the top down on the GTO anyway. I don’t know what I was doing. I’d just decided to go for a drive and found myself here, staring at his house. I took a drag off my cigarette. “Fuck it.” I flicked the cigarette out and drove up to this house. He might not even be home. I rang the bell then stepped away from the door. A moment later, he opened it. And he looked fine. He had on a pair of faded blue jeans, a white t-shirt and bare feet. He looked like he was on his way to a photo shoot. He looked so good, I hurt a little inside. I stepped back and tried to smile at him. He didn’t try to smile back. I mumbled a feeble, “Hey.” “Hey yourself.” I pulled the ring box out of my pocket and handed it to him. “You forgot this.” “I don’t want it.” “Oh,” I muttered and stared down at it. “Look, I’m just gonna say it and then walk away.” “Alright.” He crossed his arms and leaned in the doorframe. “Go on.” 194
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I took a deep breath and began, “I know you don’t agree with what I did and how could you? Most people wouldn’t. But the thing is, it was the kind of a situation that gets out of control. It wasn’t supposed to turn out like this.” He nodded for me to continue. “The thing is,” I said, taking a breath. “You are not special to me because you drive a racecar or because you’re rich and famous. You are special to me because you just are. To be honest, I don’t even like racecar driving that much.” He narrowed his eyes. “The point is, I don’t know why, Earl, that I fell for you, but I want you to know that I did and I fell hard. Like I said, it wasn’t supposed to turn out like this.” “Okay.” “Earl, I just want to say I am really, really sorry.” I took a breath and said, “That’s the easy part. I want to thank you.” “For what?” “For showing me that I can love someone. I thought that was all past me. I got really hurt once, but now I’m over it. Because of you.” “Tina, I—” “Just let me finish, okay? Then I’ll leave.” I took another breath. “I love you and I believe you are a good man. Well… That’s all, really. I’ll go now.” I turned to leave. “Wait,” he said. I turned back around. He said, “Can I talk now?” I nodded and stared at my feet. “Tina, I don’t fall in love with just anybody. I don’t know what you thought I was doing or not doing, but what I felt was real and that was all that mattered. If you had came to me and told me what 195
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you did, I’d forgiven you on the spot, even if you are some type of relationship soldier of fortune.” Soldier of fortune? Well…I wouldn’t say that. “Because I loved you,” he said. “I don’t care what you did in your past or whatever. That doesn’t matter because we’re here now. No sense in hiding things.” “Right.” He nodded. Just then, someone came to the door and peered out. It was that woman. Who was this bitch?! Calm, stay calm. I knew this might happen. I knew it! Breathe… Fuck it. I’m sorry. Just fuck it. I’m an idiot. Men are all the same and Earl was a man. I’d seen his dick, so I knew this was a fact. And that made me an idiot for believing in all this fantasy. Love doesn’t conquer all. It makes things more difficult! The proof was staring me right in the face. I glared at him. “You son of a bitch!” He glanced at me, then at her. “Huh?” I hauled back and slapped him. He wasn’t pining over me! The proof was right there, staring me in the eye. And she wasn’t just pretty, she was beautiful and stacked like a brick shithouse. Just looking at her and her beauty made me feel bad. How could he not like her? “Fuck you, Earl!” I hissed. “I was trying to be honest and make nice and all the time you had her, too!” A light bulb seemed to go off in his head. He got all excited and said, “What? Oh, no! Tina—” I threw the ring box at him, turned on my heel and ran to my car. “Tina!” He was running towards the car. “Stop!” But I was peeling out. Then he hopped in! “Get out of my car!” I yelled at the top of my lungs and decided then and there that I was 196
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going back to work. To hell with him and all the men in the world. I didn’t care anymore! “Wait a minute!” he yelled and pushed his leg over mine and slammed on the brake. The car stopped. “Will you let me explain?” “No explanation is necessary,” I said, then feigned panic, fanning myself. “I need to get out.” We both got out of the car. As soon as he was out, I jumped back in and flew out of there, tearing up his precious driveway. “Fuck!” he yelled. “Yeah!” I yelled. “Fuck you!” I got back on the road driving at breakneck speed, feeling like a fool. And then I saw him coming up behind me in his Mustang. Damn it! That car had more horsepower than mine! Damn! Damn! Damn! He was too good! He saddled his car right up next to mine on the two-lane road. I flipped him a bird just as my cell phone rang. If it was Charlene, I was going to beat her ass. “Hello?” “Would you let me explain?” I stared over at him. He held on to a cell phone and glanced at me. This was a bit surreal. “I think I get the picture!” I yelled and looked ahead. I smiled. A car was coming in his lane. I grinned at him. He nearly grinned back. “What is it?” he asked. I pointed. The car was coming around the curve now. He yelled, “Shit!” and pulled his car onto an embankment. The car passed, honking its horn. Earl got back on the road then tried to come around me. I swerved over, not letting him pass and kept my car in the middle of the road.
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“Yeah, big racecar driver!” I said and flipped him a bird. “You’re getting your ass kicked by a girl, Earl!” “We’ll see about that,” he said and hung up. Damn him! I threw the phone to the side and smiled in spite of myself. I glanced over my shoulder then looked ahead. I gasped. My car was now headed over an embankment. I slammed on the brakes. Wrong move. “Fuck me!” Too late. I was already fucked. The GTO soared over the little embankment and crashed into a pond. Now this was just perfect. I was just about to get out when I heard his car. Before I could blink, the Mustang came flying over my car—and my head!—and landed right in front of my GTO with a gigantic splash. I was now soaked to the bone, as was the interior of my car. Though it didn’t matter as it was now sinking into the water. Earl’s car throttled then the engine died. It was unreal. He’d even won this race. The bastard! “I’ll be damned,” I muttered and got out of my car just as he emerged from his. We stared at each other for a long moment then narrowed our eyes. I tried to get to the bank, but he was behind me, grabbing my arm. I pulled it back and elbowed him in the stomach. He doubled over and groaned. I made it to the bank, then he fell on top of me, pinning me to the ground. “Get off!” I yelled. He got in my face and said, “Racing lesson number one—a car is not a plaything!” I got back at him, “And neither is a woman!” “Everything makes perfect sense now,” he said, nodding. “I’m glad it does!” I hissed. “Now get off!” “She’s my ex-girlfriend!” he said. 198
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It didn’t register, probably because I was so pissed off. I screamed, “Just like me!” “She’s the one who broke my heart!” “Good for her!” I pushed him. He stared at me then covered my mouth with his. I bit his tongue and pushed against his chest. He moved away and spit out the side of his mouth. “You didn’t have to do that!” he exclaimed. “Get off me!” I yelled. “I didn’t want to do this,” he said, then covered my mouth with his hand. “Now you’re gonna listen to me, whether you like it or not.” I bit his hand. He didn’t even flinch. But he did pull it back. He hissed, “If you were a man—” “I’d kick your sorry ass!” I tried to slap him; he grabbed my arms with one hand, held them tight then covered my mouth with his other hand. I gave up. I’d get him later. I was already working on a plan. “Silence was never sweeter.” He grinned at me. I hated him so much. “Now listen,” he said. “Number one, she is my ex girlfriend and number two, she’s the lesbian.” I digested that. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh… Oh, and she was his publicist, that’s what she was at the track. They were good friends, that’s why they were at the park. She was at his house, but that didn’t mean anything cause she liked chicks. Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit. I was the world’s biggest dumbass. “What was she doing there today?” I smarted. He ducked his head, embarrassed. “She’s helping me with my homework. I’m getting my GED.” I stared at him. My mouth formed an “O.” I almost smiled. “Glad we got that cleared up.” 199
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“You could have asked me about her, you know?” he said. “I know,” I replied. “But…but every time…you know. I did try but I never… Shit. I don’t know what else to say.” He nodded. “I know. I guess I should have introduced you two or something. It was my fault. If I’d done that, we’d have avoided all of this and wouldn’t have lost any time.” He was taking the blame for this. He was too good to be true. I smiled at him and said, “Is this the part where you forgive me for acting like an erratic woman?” He grinned and nodded. “You mean like a hard-headed woman?” “You’re going to have to stop quoting Elvis songs.” “Hard-headed woman,” he said and put his hand over his heart. “Soft-hearted man.” I couldn’t have said it better myself. We smiled at each other. You know, I really liked this guy. I asked, sweetly, “Is this the part where we forgive each other and stuff?” He nodded. “I think so.” “I’ve never been this far before.” He grinned. “Who’s quoting whom?” Whom? He had been doing his homework. That one always got me. Who? Whom? What did it matter? I said, “You owe me one GTO.” “And you owe me a Mustang.” “Sorry,” I said. “I’m outta work right now.” “We gonna give this one more try?” I stared at him. Tears stung the backs of my eyes. “You really want me after all that, Earl?” He broke into a big grin. “Tina, I’ve been miserable since we broke up. Are you kidding? I love you and no matter what you did or even do, I guess I always will. When you knocked on that door 200
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today, I was so happy. Then I had to remind myself that I was mad at you.” “Are you still mad?” He grinned sheepishly. “Hell no, I ain’t. Are you?” I shook my head. “Just at myself.” “Don’t be like that,” he said. “I’m just glad you came back.” “Why?” I had to ask. “Maybe it was just meant to be that way.” I couldn’t think of a damn thing to say. I said, “I love you.” He said, “I love you, too.” We smiled at each other. “Hold, on,” I said. “I need to do this…” Then I pushed myself against him and kissed him. I kissed him with everything in my body—with my mind, with my body, with my soul. That kiss sealed the deal. I really and truly was in love with this man. And the best part was, he was really and truly in love with me. And then he muttered, “You gonna talk dirty to me?” “Only after you make me moan with pure, unadulterated pleasure, baby,” I moaned. “Ohh, baby…” If I could have set a song to it, it would have been Patsy Cline’s Back in Baby’s Arms. We were down to our skivvies when we heard footsteps. Someone yelled, “Hey, y’all all right?!” We looked up to see a farmer dressed in a pair of overalls. He stared down at us then grew embarrassed. “Hey, Joe!” Earl called to him sheepishly. I kept my mouth shut.
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Now, What Did We Learn? The Rules for Changing: 9Remember that everyone is capable of change. 9Even me. 9Even you. In the end, it all boils down to this simple fact: We all want to find someone to love, but more importantly, we want them to love us back. I realized that I had to go through all those dicks to find Earl. We should all realize that there are no Mr. and Ms. Right. They don’t exist. They never measure up to our expectations anyway. Mainly because those expectations are too high. And a little naïve. Whatever road you decide to travel, leave here with this: Women are just women and men are just men. We’ve all been hurt at some point in our lives, but, as they say, that’s just part of life. No one leads a painless life. The fact is, we need pain. It makes us grow and become better people. It’s in your hands what to do with it. Whenever you find yourself with a broken heart, it’s your decision to take the high road or the low road. Sooner or later, you’re gonna meet yourself on one of those two roads and that’s the one person you’re gonna have to answer to. So, smile at her and say, “I am the best I can be and one day I will move on. Until then, I will take my suffering and I will honor it for it will make me wiser and a better person. Besides, he had all that back-hair.” Even if it sounds like a load of crap, give it a try anyway and ask yourself, What song would I set it to? Personally, I’d set the whole
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HEARTBREAKER
damn thing to Elvis’ Good Luck Charm. Of course, we all know, any Elvis song would do. Class dismissed.
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