Archive for the thrillers Category

Post #130 – The Sterling Stalker

Posted in dating, marriage, memoir, nonfiction, relationships, sex, thrillers, true stories, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , on May 2, 2014 by tenaciousbitch

A friend of mine calls me a psycho magnet because I often found myself in peculiar circumstances/relationships with men before I met my husband, Charlie, and this event with Sterling is no exception.

In fall of 1989, I decided to move from Brooklyn, New York, to Los Angeles with my then boyfriend, Ashe (now deceased ex-husband mentioned in ). Shortly after Ashe graduated from sound engineering school, he got a job on the Rolling Stones tour.

Unfortunately, four months later, Ashe brought home a new BFF, her majestycocaine. Our relationship imploded, and I was a single Mom again with a 3-year-old Tim in tow. Sigh…

I got a job working as an admin assistant at a computer sales company. While attending a trade show in Santa Monica, a handsome man swaggered over to my table at lunch. “I’ll trade you a bit for your byte?” He asked with a beguiling grin.

I stared at him, confused. Then, I noticed the trade show badge pinned to his shirtand it hit me — a joke about the PC biz…how charming. However, since he was a blonde-haired, hazel-eyed babe, I laughed…while admiring his thick-muscled arms…

“Hi, I’m Sterling,” Mr. Hottie said, extending his hand. “I’m at IBM.”

With a polite handshake and cool smile, I replied, “Kennedy, Kennedy Smith.”

After an awkward pause, the usual pleasantries evolved into a conversation cultivated via common ground. We both liked cooking ethnic meals from scratch, sci-fi books and movies, and both of us wanted to own motorcycles.  But neither of us had the cash to satisfy that yearning at the time.

A dozen dates later, I started to feel that flutter preceding those three little words that will kill or cement any liaison, but quick. However, since Sterling was likely a rebound beau, I refrained from verbalizing said “L” word. Thank God because…

Five minutes after our first blissful romp between the sheets, Sterling had a lengthy discourse with someone named Clair on the phone. I was half asleep, and even though his timing was odd, I assumed by his verbiage, he was chatting with his assistant…or maybe, his sister until…

“Love you, too.” And the cooing timbre of that phrase was definitely not the way one speaks to a sibling…

“Who was that?” I snapped.

“My wife,” he said.

“What? I’m sorry. Did you say wife?”

“Yes, Clair, my wife of six years.”

“You goddamned piece of shit!” I yelled, wanting to kick the short and curlies right off his fucking balls. “You’re  married, you filthy bag of dick?”

“Never said I wasn’t.”

“Oh, right, so that makes it okay. How could you call your wife, five seconds after you fucked another woman?”

A wide grin slithered across his face, “Cuz, it turns me on,” he said, rolling over on me and planting a succulent kiss on my neck.

“Get off me!” I hollered, shoving him sideways. I leapt out of bed and slipped into my robe. “And get the fuck out of my house!”

“Come on, you knew.”

“How could I know? You never mentioned a wife, you lame-assed cock, and you’re not wearing a ring!!”

“A guy like me, single at 30? C’mon?? What’re the odds?” he scoffed.

“GET OUT!” I screamed, so relieved that Tim (my son) was asleep at the neighbor’s next door – because he’d taken a liking to Sterling, the wanking prick.

But Sterling didn’t move. “C’mon, this is 1989. Monogamy’s dead, especially in Hollywood.”

“We live in the Valley, and we’re not celebrities, you arrogant bastard-” I shouted while dialing the phone.

“Who’re you calling?”

“Only 911,” I snickered.

Finally, that prompted his departure, but not without trying to kiss me goodbye. Instead, I gave him a sweet caress of very sharp, red nails…even drew a little blood.

The next day, Sterling called me at work. I immediately hung up on him, but that didn’t deter the cheating lout. Not two hours later, Kiki, the receptionist, strutted over with a dozen roses in a crystal vase.

“Wow, someone’s got a sweetie,” said the dull-eyed Kiki, setting the flowers on my desk.

FUCK! I glanced at the card:

 I miss you, beautiful. 
Please forgive me. 
Just say the word and I’ll file 
Love, Sterling

I dumped the roses in my trashcan, and I wanted to throw the vase at the wall, but I couldn’t exactly afford to lose my job.

And just when I started to relax a few days later, my hands turned cold, and my heart dashed about painfully in my chest…when a bottle of Dom Perignon appeared on my kitchen counter. A card bearing my name beside it.

“What’s wrong, Mommy?” Tim asked, tugging at my quivering hand.

“Nothing, honey,” I said with a weak smile, trying desperately to shield him from the terror evoked by this seemingly innocent bottle of bubbly. “You go on and watch cartoons while I, uh, make dinner. Okay?”


My beautiful blue-eyed boy toddled into the living room as I tried to collect myself. I glared at the card for a second. Then, like an idiot, I opened it:

I love you. I can’t 
stand being apart.
Please call me.
Love, Always

“Shit…” I mumbled, leaning on the counter to steady myself. I raced to the front door and dropped to my knees. I didn’t see any marks on the door or the doorknob, and that was the only entrance to my tiny one-bedroom apartment. I checked all the windows, which were still locked.

I called the police, and two patrolmen showed up an hour later. Tim, of course, was fascinated by their badges and their guns.

“Please, can I see it, Officer, your -?” Tim pleaded from the doorway, pointing to the shorter Officer’s pistol.

“No, Tim,” I scolded. “Go watch TV in the bedroom, please.”

Frowning, he slumped away.

“I’m sorry, but,” said Officer Denton, the older of the two lawmen, “There’s really nothing we can do.”

“But he broke in!”

“There’s no sign of forced entry, and that card isn’t…it doesn’t constitute a threat-”

“I don’t understand! He doesn’t have a key!”

“I know. I’m sorry. I suggest you move.”

“But my lease isn’t up for seven months.”

With that, the nightmare with the STERLING STALKER was just beginning…

And what made me think of this creep after all these years? Yep…you got it? Another…do you know –

Sterling XXXXXXX

On Facebook. And Sterling, apparently, has 3 friends in common with me who still live in L.A.  Holy Shitballs, Batman…and these are not folks I knew when I lived in Cali…they’re folks I’ve met at seminars and such…

If you’d like to read the conclusion to this story, it will be one of the chapters in my upcoming book, Tales from the Lunatic Lounge, which I hope to finish in the next month or so! 🙂



Post #107 – If you’re weird, and you know it…clap your hands! :)

Posted in beer, college, Family, friends, humor, marriage, memoir, nonfiction, relationships, thrillers, true stories, true stories, Uncategorized, writing with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 6, 2013 by tenaciousbitch

First, my mother told me I was weird in high school because I like sci-fi and horror books and movies as well as thriller and action movies. I have many tomes by Mr. King and Mr. Koontz. For some odd reason though since I majored in English/Creative Writing, Mom assumed I should be sitting around reading Milton or Melville or something equally high brow.

However, in college I was usually bored in traditional Literature classes like British Lit 101. That said, there were some authors/books from the required reading list that I liked including:

Charles Dickens. Loved Great Expectations.

Emily Bronte: Wuthering Heights still ROCKS.

Daphne DuMaurier:  Will anyone EVER forget Rebecca? Which incidentally I first read in the 8th Grade. So, perhaps, that makes me doubly strange with a cherry on top…dunno, you be the judge.

Franz Kafka: The Metamorphosis. Those of us who have survived corporate America, can we NOT relate to feeling like an insect?

F. Scott Fitzgerald – The Great Gatsby, the book and the movie (either version)!

1984 by George Orwell.

And there are a few others, but I won’t bore you with the rest. So, ANYWHO…about being weird…

Though he loves me, and he’s very good to me, my husband also thinks I’m weird because:

1) I, like Sally Albright, get cold, occasionally, when it’s below 72 degrees.

2) I wolf down dark chocolate covered in peanut butter once in awhile with a glass of Merlot or a beer. It’s a family thing. My great-grandmother used to eat chocolate with a pint ‘o beer all the time, so I’m in good company. So, maybe, it’s an Irish thing. Dunno…never been to the land of my ancestors though I hope to some day.

3) As I said, I prefer action/thriller/horror/sci fi books/movies to chick lit and chick flicks though I LOVE memoirs.  Unfortunately, I find SOME chick lit to be contrived and boring, and I stopped reading  50 Shades of Gray about 40 pages in (couldn’t relate to anyone that submissive).  But memoirs? The characters are more genuine since they’re about contradictory/cantankerous/flawed humans who are brutally honest about a drug problem, for example (i.e. Portrait of a Young Man as an Addict by Bill Clegg) or maybe they overcame severe circumstances like Jeanette Walls in A Glass Castle and the like. As they say, truth is stranger than fiction. However, I do love FICTION as well, obviously.

However, there are some chick flicks/romantic comedies that I absolutely adore like:

Ahem, When Harry Met Sally if you didn’t get the Sally Albright reference above.

The Wedding Singer

Serious Moonlight

Pretty Woman (what’s not to like?)

Oh, and lest we forget, Moonstruck with my favorite DIVA, Cher.

4) So, why else am I weird besides the fact that I prefer most of the same movies as my husband? Well, because I’m not big on SPOOFS.

I think most of them are stupid. Max and Charlie both LOVE Shaun of the Dead, which annoyed me, and all the Austin Powers movies, which have comedic moments, but they’re just not for me. So, when anyone mentions movies like those, I suddenly have 5 loads of laundry to do.

But don’t think that my taste in movies is logical because I will watch Clerks, Jay and Silent Bob or Dogma all DAY LONG, which some might consider spoofs or spoof-ish. Yes, MEGA fan of Kevin Smith. I even like Comic Book Men. And wasn’t Kevin Smith AWESOME in Die Hard 4? Yes, the WARLOCK rules!

Aside from all that, I’m weird because:

5) I don’t care if my socks match (a navy blue/black combo is commonplace for moi), but I hate it if my bra and panties don’t match and/or if my pillow cases don’t match my bedspread. I know. I know. It doesn’t make any sense, but who SAYS I HAVE TO? 🙂

6) I am OBSESSED with British Television, and my current faves are – Doctor Who (when’s it coming back on??!!!) MI-5, and Downton Abby. And I’ll be distraught after watching the 86th episode of MI-5 on Netflix cuz then, I’ll have nothing to watch after the Old Man goes to bed. I’m also still reeling from the death of Adam Carter, and if he left because of some squabble with a director or something, might just cross the pond to deck the bastard…just so you know! 🙂

7) I don’t care that I’ve never eaten a Big Mac or a slider from White Castle. No loss! Steak n shake is my FAV! Get over it.

8) Though I’ve been accused of not being a girlie girl, I rarely EVER go out in public without makeup even if I’m just going to the grocery store.

9)  It gets on my last nerve if the kitchen and the bathrooms are dirty, but a little clutter doesn’t bother me. A lot of CLUTTER is different. For example…, check out this post   ….yeah, that BOTHERS ME…:)

10) And last but not least: I like working alone. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not antisocial. My friends will attest I can be the life of the party. And I’ve been known to hang out in bars until daylight (years ago, but still). That said, I much prefer working at home, with just my black lab and 2 cats because they don’t GO on and on about every single argument with their spouse over who ate the last muffin or the oh, so exciting plot of the Kardashians or Mad Men, or another broadcast I don’t care about.

So, there you have it. My weirdness cataloged…and, personally, I much prefer being deemed ODD (not to be confused with Odd Thomas cuz I can’t see ghosts)…than being called God forbid…BORING…

See what I mean? What a GEEK I am…this was one of my Facebook posts last week…

TROUBLE WITH TRIBLES  A perfect date night for me and my hubby: a bottle of Merlot and TROUBLE WITH TRIBBLES…:)

So, CHEERS to all of us weirdos, harmless weirdos…not those guys in raincoats who flash people in public…:)

Over and out from fracked up CENTRAL or something like that…:)

TenaciousB and her band of truth-spouting hippies…

© Tenacious Bitch 2013

#14 – BAIT and switch… PART 2

Posted in Family, nonfiction, relationships, thrillers, true stories, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , on May 7, 2011 by tenaciousbitch

Believe it or not, below I have detailed THE END of the trail of bread crumbs leading to the sale/non-sale of the BMW…So, after I’d tossed my brain in the closet and let Danny borrow my rental car, I realized we were damned lucky Everett didn’t think we were going to take the 1200 Danny asked Everett give him BEFORE actually selling him Dad’s wheels and run off to hemispheres unknown.

For those just joining my Crazy Town, feel free to check out:  and and/or

for info about my brother Danny and this post:    …. all about selling my Dad’s car.

ANYWHO…After much thought, I decided to avoid CHECKMATE (no rental to return) and/or….how to induce the return of the Nissan before it became a fiberglass blob on wheels ….whereupon I called DARTH (Danny) at work and told him Everett would have the cash on MONDAY (to buy the car)… though in reality, Everett wouldn’t get the loan check until Tuesday. In order to substantiate this fabrication, I asked Nana’s best friend, Nancy, if we could HIDE the BMW in her garage, so Danny wouldn’t see it when he brought back the rental.

As I drove over to Nancy’s on Monday, my cell rang. I knew it was Danny even though I didn’t recognize the number. That familiar dread curdled in my empty stomach.

“Hello,” I said in as FLAT a tone as any Oscar-winning actress could muster.

“Do you have the check yet?”…yes, it was Danny.

“Yes,” I lied with my FINGERS crossed

“Good, meet me at Citibank in an hour.”

“What? Why?” I asked scrambling for yet another Tic Tac in my purse…

“To deposit the check,” he replied with the word DUMB ASS implied in his voice.

OMG… Next, he was going to casually suggest that I drop the ENTIRE $6300 into HIS account, and he’d write me a check for $5100. And then, he’d go withdraw as much as possible from every ATM within walking distance of Chez CRACK HUT, and/or write checks to his drug dealer buddies for future ENTREES…and, the faux-ish check to me would bounce from here to Pluto. Except for one pesky problem that Crack Brain didn’t realize:

“The car’s in MY name, Danny. The check was written out to me. I already deposited it this morning.”

“Oh,” he said….”I thought it’d be made out to me…” he muttered…as I heard the faint rumble of his drug-marred membranes trying to think of ways to circumvent this obstacle. “Then, you can write me a check out of your account.”

“I don’t have any checks with me. I wasn’t planning to be down here for more than a week, didn’t think I’d need ’em.”

Then, of course, he asked me to go to an ATM. “I can’t. The check hasn’t cleared-”

“But it’s a cashier’s check!” he bellowed. “Don’t fuck with me! I need this goddamned money! I don’t have a rich husband-”

His gall and contempt fueled my UBER-BITCHY tone, “My account was at ZERO after buying Nana’s prescriptions, and all the teller would give me was $50.” I sucked down yet another tiny mint while begging God to PLEASE let him believe me. I’ll go to church with Nana on Sunday and EVERYTHING! 🙂

“You are SO full of shit!”

“Banks will do anything to hold onto your money these days, Danny. Have you NOT heard of the credit crunch, you fucking moron! Call Star Bank, ask them about-”

“Whatever. I’ll bring the rental car back in the morning.”

“What? Why?”

“I’m at work.”

“You are NOT! Then, how were you going to meet me-?”

“See you tomorrow around noon.”


Have I mentioned that I HATE my brother??? Does he think I’m retarded? No offense to the mentally impaired who are 10,000 brain cells smarter than Danny.  Jesus H…

Then, when I walked back from Nancy’s, Nana decided to get all righteous on me. “When you sell your Daddy’s car, I don’t want you giving DANNY anything. Pay yourself back, and then-”

“Nana, you certainly don’t owe Danny ANYTHING, but if I don’t give him something, he’ll never leave us alone.”

“What about my Macy’s bill? I said he could buy ONE outfit for an interview, and he charged over $2,000 on my card. I can barely make the minimum payment…” she said as the tears began gliding past her whitish-blonde eye lashes and onto her pale, almost translucent skin.  She laid her apple pie aside, which I hated to see her do. She lost 27 pounds while she was in New Haven from stress and the less than Alpo quality of the food.

“By the way, the pie’s delicious. Thanks for making it for me,” she said, trying so hard not to start sobbing.

“You’re welcome,” I said, trying to smile. But the look on my face, made it obvious I was still vying to pay Danny SOMETHING.

“He’s ruined my life, Kenny! I’m leavin’ my house because of him, and, you know how I hate the cold. I HATE IT,” she wailed, “So, why-”

“I know, Nana,” I said swallowing back the tears. “You certainly don’t OWE Danny a dime. But I think it’s worth it, for our piece of mind to give him some money. Think of it as hush money.”

She frowned, wiping a thick row of tears from her eyes. Silence crept between us for a moment. Then, with a sigh she said, “Okay, if you think that’s best.”

And, believe it or not, Danny arrived at 1:00 the next day WITH the Nissan. However, listening to Danny babble on as I drove him back to work as if we were just the best of buddies was just about UNBEARABLE.

“So, this buddy of mine from AA,” Danny said as I turned onto Route One… and btw, it’s ALWAYS a buddy from Alcoholics Anonymous, an organization I’m sure he has NO affiliation with other than owning one of their books FOR SHOW.

“He said he could get me a job at UPS working nightshift.”

“What about your job at the gas station?”

“I’ll do both, and I’ll be raking in 6-700 a week,” he said all excited. In reality, I give him another week at the gas station, and the UPS job will never be mentioned again if Danny is true to Danny.

“That’s nice,” I said, SOOO relieved to finally pull into the Shell Station.

“I’ll meet you tomorrow at 4:00 at CVS to get the 1200 you owe me,” he said getting out of the car. and without another word he walked into the Shell station’s store, without even asking if I COULD meet him at 4:00 tomorrow. What if Nana had a doctor’s appointment at 3:30 or something?

And I love the “you owe me part”… yeah, after YOU PAY ME for the $600 it cost me to drive the BMW down here for YOU…. and the $1972 I charged on my Visa paying all of Nana’s bills you neglected and groceries the last three weeks….

After my joyous ride to the Shell station, I went to Nancy’s to retrieve the BMW, and Everett called not TWO minutes later saying he had the loan check IN HAND!!!!

Shortly after, I heard a door slam. I looked out the dining room window, and a 20ish black guy in a white uniform shirt, holding a clipboard was walking toward the front door, and I just KNEW he wasn’t Everett. Before he could knock, I opened the door, and then, I saw it… the truck from Appalachian Gas parked on the street in front of Nana’s house.

“Can I help you?” I said to the nice black man in uniform.

“I’m here to shut off the gas.” Talk about embarrassing… just as…

A black Mercedes pulled into the driveway behind the BMW. A handsome black man in an Armani suit got out of the Mercedes followed by another black guy in jeans and a t-shirt, who looked to be about 21.

“Can you wait just a minute, and I’ll write you a check?”

“Yeah, sure,” said Mr. Uniform with a wide smile.

“Okay, be right with you,” I said rushing past him. “You must be Everett,” I said extending my hand to the Armani-clad man.

“Nice to meet you, Kennedy,” Everett said smiling, “And this is my son, Arden.” After a couple of handshakes and a bit of idle small talk, we both signed the bill of sale I had drafted, and I GLADLY accepted the check for the HARD-EARNED $6300. A check btw, that DIDN’T clear for 24 hours AFTER I deposited it! So… that part at least was NOT a lie…

Then, of course, I gave Mr. Uniform a check for the gas, and he took off for the next cash-depleted home.

And with that, Nana and I got take out from Red Lobster to celebrate, since, believe it or not, Danny SPENT the Red Lobster gift card I’d sent Nana for Christmas… yeah, I found the receipt on the dining room table. It was IMMEDIATELY obvious that Danny had spent the $25.00 card because he ordered a BUD-LIGHT with his Admiral’s Feast. Nana goes to the Pentecostal Church. The only SIN worse than drinking is being a murderous pedophile in their canon of ethics….

After our momentary bliss, I was finally ready to face the last CHALLENGE to my Georgia state of mind….. making THE MONEY DROP… giving Danny what he THOUGHT he was owed…. but I shall save that meaty tidbit for next time!

Peace out….

Love and Haagen-Dazs,


#13 – THE bait and switch…PART I

Posted in Family, memoir, nonfiction, thrillers, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , on April 29, 2011 by tenaciousbitch

Okay, after my 19TH road block in trying to sell Dad’s car, I dropped Nana off at the beauty shop the next day for her weekly “wash and set”.  And I headed out again to confiscate the BMW, preferably without any bullets, bloodshed or bull dozers dropping from the sky. About 15 minutes later, I arrived at the intersection where the Chevron was supposed to be, and, of course, the light turned red.

I look over, and on the corner IS a SHELL station, NOT a Chevron…  Why is it the ONLY thing my brother Danny is consistent about is fucking up?

For the 411 on Danny, check out:

I started to call the Shell station when I suddenly see the BMW parked in the grass, partially hidden by a tree. SCORE one for the Skywalkers… Darth Vader – zippo!

I parked beside Dad’s car. My hands were shaking as I shut the door of my rental bucket (a Nissan, courtesy of Hertz), and I strode into the Shell station’s convenience store. I guess I was wearing an ugly game face because the Hispanic Guy behind the counter immediately seemed unnerved at the sight of me. I glanced at his name tag: JORGE JAVA…

In a heavy Spanish accent, Jorge said, “Can I help you, Ma’am?”

Okay, we’ll let the MA’AM insult go this time. “Yeah, you can tell me where the guy is who’s been driving that stolen BMW there,” I said in my best MEGA-bitch voice while pointing to Dad’s car…

Jorge definitely had that, Oh, shit, hide the coffee can look (you know… the coffee can with his illegal SMOKES)…not to be confused with the oh, shit, the wife’s here…

“What? It’s stolen?”

“Where is he? Danny? About six-foot tall, dark hair? He said he works here?”

“Yeah, he work here. In the back, smoke break,” Jorge pointed behind him.

“Thank you,” and just as I turned around, I see Danny walking into the store, without a CARE in the world…in a gray SHELL uniform shirt and dirty jeans.

“What’re you doing here?” Danny asked, looking puzzled.

Okay, never mind the fact you never RETURNED the car,” I said, glancing back at Jorge, who looked away. “I got the BMW registered, and Everett is ready to buy it,” I said as we walked outside.

And the OMG really look was PRICELESS. No, it’s not rocket science. You kill a bunch of trees filling out forms, and then open your checkbook and let it bleed for awhile…

“But it has to be inspected,” I said.

Why?” Whereupon, Danny, Mr. Responsible, starts ARGUING with me about the rules of the DMV because, you know, the laws that apply to man, beast, and the universe don’t apply to my brother, King Danny.

“Look, Danny, feel free to call the DMV. I don’t know why, something about the VIN numbers matching to make sure it’s not stolen.”

He frowned, but he seemed to believe me. “So, can you follow me back to Nana’s because it can’t be sold until it’s inspected. I’ll bring you back to work.”

Yeah, okay. Just let me tell Jorge I’m going to lunch.” And he disappeared inside the store.

I COULDN’T BELIEVE IT! I’m sure at that moment, it was snowing in hell….because Danny actually did something RIGHT!

But things don’t go as well back to the house. After he removed what looked like half his wardrobe (in big black trash bags) from the BMW as well as a couple bags of groceries and enough fast food trash to fill a small dumpster, he turns to me and says, “So, when’re you getting it inspected?”

And, of course, like a dumb ass, I said, “On Monday.” It was Saturday. I really need to do some work on learning Darth’s ability to LIE.

“Then, you don’t need it today.”

Oh, God, YES, I DO… because you’ll be guzzling crack all weekend and forget that Monday exists, and I’ll be sitting there crying in SQUARE ONE…

“Yes, I do. It’s not insured. If you have an accident, Dad’s estate will be liable.”

“I’m not gonna have an accident,” he scoffed.

Yeah, okay, someone who drinks 6-10 beers a day while consuming God knows how much crack on a given weekend is NOT likely to have an accident…instead, I replied, “Oh, carrying a crystal ball these days, are you?”

“I have to get to work!” he screamed.

“Well, you know, if we’d been able to sell Mom and Dad’s house, you could’ve bought yourself a really nice Mustang or something with that twenty grand-”

“Fuck you, Princess!”

“Don’t call me Princess, you fucking crackhead!” Yeah, that was awesome. He charged past me and practically bounced into the BMW.

Flat-eyed glares exchanged between us as he started the car…”You can ride the bus.”

“No, I can’t. It doesn’t run early enough. Bullshit, like he EVER checked a bus schedule in his life. NOT MY PROBLEM, asshole! Jump start brain, KENNEDY. Instead, I let PANIC do the talking. “Look, just… TAKE my rental car.” WTF? Did I just say that? Jesus, H, what the HELL am I doing?


And, then, I remembered- Danny’s laptop is in the trunk.  Why? Well, he said it wasn’t “working”, that he was going to buy a new one. Uhm, no, it had more viruses than your average toy box at a day care… only his were from PORN sites… ugh…one look at his browser, and, yeah….

I knew my husband, Charlie, the IT guy, could fix it. We could then sell it and pay down some of the astronomical credit card debt I’d racked up because of DANNY.

I put his Vaio, which he’d bought on Nana’s dime, of course, in the trunk in case Danny dropped by before we changed the locks… and left it there for fear he’d break in and so… I said, “Just let me get a few things out of the car.”

I grabbed a bag of groceries from the backseat that I’d just bought that were in a reusable bag. With Danny on my heels, I actually managed to open the trunk and slink his laptop carefully into the canvas Publix bag before he got to the back of the car.  I could NOT believe he didn’t notice!!! Just call me BOND, TENACIOUS BOND..but no olives in that shaken martini, please. They make me BURP…:)

However, he was blathering on about this ’97 Bronco he wants to buy. He was way too involved in his OWN monologue to notice what I was doing! 🙂

I was only given about 30 seconds to bask in the glow of pride for my STEALTH as I headed into the house to put the “groceries” away when Danny said, “Let me borrow your phone.”

“No, use the house phone. I’m almost outta minutes-”

“Then, give me Everette’s number.”

“Look, I’ve gotta go pick up Nana at the beauty shop, and you know how she freaks if you’re a minute late,” I said walking over to the BMW and opening the driver’s side door. But just as I sat down, he grabbed the door and got in my face.

“Give me Everett’s number, Kennedy. Right now,” in his best BAD ASS BULLY will rearrange your face GROWL.

“Fine. Back off, Cujo,” I said, grabbing my phone from my pocket. I knew if he talked to Everett, he would so KILL the sale.  “Hold on,” I said, as I furiously deleted Everett from my contacts. “Hmm…, oh fuck.” And I was getting THE LOOK… he knew what I was doing….


“I can’t find it,” I mumbled as I erased the last text from Everett when…

“Bullshit.” And he snatched the phone from me.

“Give me that! It cost me $300.”

The death glare from Danny…then, his face tightened in a very tell-tale sign of temper. “What the fuck is wrong with this phone?”

My Guardian Angel must’ve been assisting because my phone suddenly decided to implode.

“It’s all white. What’d you do to it?” Danny showed me the screen, and I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

“I dropped it last winter onto an asphalt parking lot, and occasionally, it locks up for no reason,” I said… and then, judging from Danny’s SCOWL, I assumed it was now reconfiguring itself (which lasts about 45 seconds)  another side effect of its smack down with the pavement.

With a PISSED OFF sigh, he handed me the phone, as an avalanche of numbers crossed the screen.  SCORE TWO –  Skywalkers… DARTH VADER… zippo!

“Call him and ask him if he could front me the $1200,” he said,  “I could use it to buy that Bronco.”

What an inappropriate and unreasonable request! “He’s not gonna do that, Danny. He barely knows you, and he probably doesn’t have that much cash to spare.”

“OH, yes, he does. He’s loaded.”

I shrugged. “Okay, I’ll text him.”

“You better, you fucking bitch.”

I rolled my eyes and started texting knowing the laughable NO that question would receive.

Yeah, whatever…like Danny is now privy to the intimate details of Everett’s finances after 3 phone calls. I wish I could live in HIS world some days! And why would ANYONE fork out that much cash when they don’t have possession of the vehicle yet? Jesus, H…

My heart was GRINDING in an unhappy rhythm as Danny drove away. However, I was VERY glad I’d bought the renter’s insurance, which I usually DON’T do. But after wrecking my SUV, I felt investing in as much insurance as POSSIBLE was BEST.

I also texted Everett that, by no means, did I EXPECT Everett to loan Danny ANY cash…that I wouldn’t give Danny cab fare, much less $1200. When I didn’t hear back from him, I feared he was backing out.

To my surprise, he left a message on my cell on Sunday saying he still wanted the BMW and to let him know as soon as the car was officially registered.

Huh…again, WHAT A GREAT GUY….

“You know, you’ll probably never see that rental car again,” my friend, Calista said when I called her to give her an update.

“I know that’s entirely possible. But if he doesn’t bring it back, I’ll report it stolen.”

“Man, I hope all this shit is over soon, you’re starting to think like him,” Calista said, laughing.

“Yeah, tell me about it….”

After the inspection, it cost $500+ to register Dad’s car because we needed an expedited registration. Apparently, the state of Georgia usually MAILS it to you, which would’ve only cost $278…In Ohio, they give you your new tags registration right there at the BMV. Additionally, I had to write a bad check (technically) for said fees, btw, because Georgia ‘s DMV doesn’t accept credit cards (egad), but I’ve heard they WILL accept goats and livestock as alternate currency….THANK YOU, TO THE GODZ of banking, however, for the $2,000 overdraft on my checking account.

With that, I will bid you, adieu…. hold on though, boys and GIRLS, there’s more mischief and bullshit a foot! 🙂

Peace out from the Geriatric SWAMP…


Kennedy Smith lives in the Midwest with her husband, 1.5 children, two dogs, 2 cats, two garages, and a partridge that refuses to live in its pear tree.