Page 59 of Cold Foot Cash

“And then what?”

“And he got very defensive, and protective of his phone. Yelled at me. Called me crazy, all that.”

“Of course he did.”

“And then he got so angry at my questions, he got up and left. Which I knew he would do, so I had parked my car where I could follow him easily. Do you know she only lived a few blocks away in that old apartment complex off Roake?”

“The dirty rotten bastard.”

“So dirty. I knocked on her door.”

Tammy’s eyebrow’s shot up. “Really?”

“I had to know for sure.”

“Another one?” she asked, gesturing to her drink.

“Yup.” While Tammy made her a drink, she told her the rest of her story. “Alissa answered the door and Lance was right behind her, and he looked busted as hell. He didn’t have a shirt on, and that was that.”

“That was that,” Tammy uttered.

“I tried to forgive him for a little while just to save the marriage, but he wouldn’t leave her alone, and then it was deliberately cheating, and blatant, and thrown in my face. He would have date nights set aside for her, and he would ask me, ‘What are you going to do? Nothing,’ before he left me crying in the kitchen. And I asked myself that like a hundred times before I figured out what I was going to do.”

“Leave his ass.”

“Yep. Leave his ass. Only he wouldn’t leave the house, and he changed all the damn locks while I was at work, so he kept the house and he’s getting all my money and now half of the proceeds from my own car, apparently. And my pride, and my dignity, and self-worth—”

“Okay, let’s focus on the positives. You’re cutting dead weight from your life.”

“I’m cutting dead weight from my life,” she repeated, slurring her words.

“Hey,” Tammy called to someone behind her. “You can’t do that.” Whoo she sounded mad. “Don’t take pictures of her. She’s not doing anything to you.”

Harley twisted around in her chair to see the group she knew talking quietly amongst themselves, snickering, and looking at one of their phones. She sighed. “People just love taking pictures of me, and you know, I don’t get the appeal. I probably look like a mess right now.”

“You look gorgeous, but I bet they’re sending pictures to your ex or his girlfriend. Hey, ya’ll? Come close out your tab. Y’all can leave.”

“What? We’re not leaving. We come in here all the time,” the pretty blond called from the table.

“Cool, see you next time you come in.”

“No, let them take their pictures,” Harley sang, twisting the bar stool around completely. “Get my favorite finger in it.” She flipped them the bird and cheesed the biggest smile she could muster. “Send it to Alissa and tell her I said she looked really pretty in her hooker-red mini-dress that she wore to her cheating boyfriend’s divorce proceedings today—”

“Okay,” Tammy said. “Bathroom break.”

“The bathroom broke? Oh no.”

“No, I mean you need to take a breather while I get these assholes out of here.” She looked over at a big guy in a black shirt sitting at a table near the bar. “Gray? They need to go.”

Gray, who was apparently the bouncer, stood and made his way to the table to talk to the Butthole Squad, and Tammy turned her attention back to Harley. “You look like you’re a nice lady.”

“I’m not. I’m evil. That’s why my husband left me,” she slurred, bobbing her head back and forth.

Tammy tried to hide a smile. “And you seem really fun, and would probably be a hoot to go out with, when you aren’t right in the middle of your own personal hell. And look how gorgeous you are, in your fancy clothes—”

“—lawyer mediation clothes—”

“And you have nice heels.”

---