Chapter 2: Getting as Far Away From That Slut as Possible

It was a nine-hour drive from where I lived in Mobile, Alabama to my brother’s house in Tarpon Springs, Florida. I stopped and ate a late lunch at a Waffle House, then I was on my way again. I arrived a little after 10pm. He and his wife were sitting in the den watching television when I knocked on his front door. Doing his best Eddie Murphy impression, the one where Murphy plays ‘Mr. Rogers’, he yelled, “Who out there at da dor?”

“Lionel, it’s me. Open the fucking door.”

The door opened and there stood my big brother. No shirt, no shoes and dressed in only a pair of boxer shorts, with a pistol in his hand.

“Still answering the door with a pistol, I see.”

“In this neighborhood, fuck yeah. It’s after 10, what brings you here. Something bad I imagine.”

Over a couple of beers I explained my day to him and his wife. I showed them the video I had stored on my phone which caused his wife, Pat, to comment, “I never liked Sue. You should have never married that whore.” Lionel and Pat have been married 10 years, no kids. They run a diving operation, teaching people to SCUBA dive then taking them on diving trips. He has been after me to come to Florida and be partners with him for the last couple of years, but I always declined. I’m not a financial genius but I could tell that he was barely getting by. He was heavily in debt with the mortgages on his house, his boat and that van of his. It was not from being lazy. He cleaned barnacles off rich people’s yachts and even did some sponging to make ends meet when his business was slow.

I was tired from the long drive so Pat prepared the extra bedroom for me. I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.