Page 2 of Just Another Silly Love Song
“My wife?”
I sighed, thinking how clueless this caller was. “Yes! Women are smart as hell, so she would obviously see what’s going on between you and her mom. What does your better half say about the situation?”
“She doesn’t say anything.”
“Describe her body language for me. Does she have a furrowed brow or pursed lips? Are her nostrils flared?”
This call would have been better suited for a reality TV show. I could actually see it playing out. Wife against mother, staring each other down, ready to go ballistic. Who would throw the first punch?
“I haven’t seen my wife in six months,” Dennis said.
Okay—I admit that I didn’t see that one coming.
I blinked. “Pardon me?”
“We’re divorced.”
I nodded, thinking about it. “Ahhhh . . . okay. Now, I understand. You’ve been getting together with her behind your ex-wife’s back, and now you want me to tell you there’s nothing wrong with that. Am I close on this one, Dennis, or am I right on the money?”
“You nailed it, as usual.”
“And you don’t think your ex-wife will have a problem with younailingher mom?”
“Well . . .”
I sighed and shook my head. “Have you thought about how this would affect the relationship between your ex and her mom?”
“They were not that close to begin with.”
“And what is this supposed to do? Bring them closer together? Tea parties, Sunday brunches, and wine tasting with mom and daughter where the two of them celebrate your unexpected, newfound love and how much they didn’t realize they had in common? Maybe they could discuss how big or small Dennis Junior is and your performance in the sack.”
“I—”
“And another thing . . . where is the father-in-law during all of this?”
“Oh, I don’t have to worry about him. He’s dead.”
I shook my head in disgust. “You’re a class act, Dennis. The question is, are you going to continue to exhibit a lack of intelligence and tact, or will you realize that having a relationship with her mom is completely wrong and borderline disgusting?”
“It’s not like that at all. She’s a special lady and I think—”
“You’re not thinking! You’re still trying to convince me that there’s nothing inappropriate about your behavior. You will be an idiot for the rest of your life, obviously. Stay on the phone so I can have my producer get your mailing address.”
“What for?”
“I’m going to send you a free self-castration kit.” I disconnected the call. “You’re listening to Dr. Tough Love and we’ll be back right after this.”
I tapped the button to start the commercial, turned off the microphone, and removed my headphones, setting them down on the console.
The studio door swung open.
Kyle Jacobs, the new program director of the radio station, entered. He must have been half my age, with an IQ to rival Einstein. He knew a lot about the radio business for someone so young and had risen up through the radio industry ranks rather quickly because of his ability to analyze data and ratings.
What ticked me off was the way he nitpicked my show to death, even though I had decent ratings. I had gotten to where I was without the help of someone who wore Harry Potter T-shirts and flip-flops to work, thank you very much.
“Good one about the self-castration kit.” Kyle grinned. “Can you come see me after the show?”
“Yeah, sure.” I studied him for a moment. “Is everything okay?”
