With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ashley Pearce, aka Ashlynn Pearce.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
Use of artists and song titles are done so for storytelling purposes and should in no way be seen as advertisement. Trademark names are used in an editorial fashion with no intention of infringement of the respective owner’s trademark.
Dedication
To my man…thankyouforyoursupport.Iloveyouforeverand always!
To Linda, Youarethebestandalwayshavemyback.Thelast5yearshave beenbrutal,butyouwerealwaysthere.Througheverything.LY!
It’s been a long road getting back, again… and I cherish that you’ve taken the time to buy and read my books.
Loveandhappyreading/writing!
Cover Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication About the Book
Chapter1
Chapter2
Chapter3
Chapter4
Chapter5
Chapter6
Chapter7
Chapter8
Chapter9
Chapter10
Chapter11
Chapter12
Chapter13
Chapter14
Chapter15
Chapter16
Chapter17
Chapter18
Table of Contents
Chapter19
Chapter20
Chapter21
Chapter22
Epilogue
About the Author
FIXT
#4 DirtSlap series
Badideasandsecrets…Whatcouldgowrong?
Lila Starling is happy, bubbly and seemingly carefree. In reality, her life is full of skeletons and secrets. During a trip to Las Vegas for a wedding, she makes her biggest mistake yet. A night with the biggest horndog in Nashville, the lead guitarist of DirtSlap, Ryan Fennick. He’s a bad idea but she can’t forget the feel of his hands and the way he looked at her, as if she was important. As if she meant something. When long buried secrets unravel, she gains the family she always wanted. But it comes with a price…the loss of Ryan.
Music rules Ryan Fennick’s world. Abandoned by his mom at five on his aunt’s doorstep, he has little respect for women. That’s why he only does one-nighters. Only with strangers. Until that night in Vegas. Lila is a flame he can’t stamp out. He has known her forever but as secrets are revealed, he wonders if he really knew her at all. When he’s threatened and his guitar hand is slashed…he vows nothing is worth the sacrifice of his music. Not even the woman who left a searing mark on his heart.
Can they find a way to tunnel under the layers of false truths to get to the fixt?
Chapter 1
“YOU MAY NOW kissthebride.”
Lila Starling smiled through her tears, as she watched the couple promise their forevers to each other. What would it feel like to be the sole focus of one person? To trust somebody enough to give them your heart and soul? Be lost in someone enough to make time stand still. She had never felt anywhere close to it. She couldn’t even imagine it.
They were in Vegas at the Bellagio fountains at dusk, where Ethan, the lead singer of DirtSlap, married Shelby. They were two opposites of the same coin. Perfectly imperfect. They had known each other a little over six months and they made a striking couple.
Lila glanced at Zak, Ethan’s best man. The elusive and silent bass player of DirtSlap who drank nothing but water. No amount of words, subtle touches or blatant flirting had gotten a response out of him. His hair was always in his face hiding those incredible bluegreen eyes. He made a striking figure in that tux. Broad shoulders. Narrow waist. She was determined to make him see her.
Even if she had to tackle the man.
RYAN SPOTTED LILA at the bar tossing back shots, her face in a marked frown. She had on tiny blue sparkly dress, with heels to match and her bright red hair was curled and hanging loose to the middle of her back. He’d known her forever, but he had to admit she looked smoking. She was alone, Zak nowhere to be found. He sauntered up to the bar and leaned on it.
“Where’s Zak, Imp?”
She threw up her hands. “No idea. I was talking to him…or trying to. I go to the bathroom and POOF he’s gone.” Frustration poured off her in waves and bright blue eyes glared when he chuckled.
“Sorry,” he said behind a smile.
“Oh, to hell with you, Ryan. Like you care.”
He tugged on her bright red hair. “Sure, I do.” He waved at the bartender for a beer and slid onto a stool beside her.
“Right. Don’t even. I’ve known you long enough you don’t care.” She glanced around him. “So, where’s your next bimbo?”
He shrugged. “Haven’t gone hunting yet.”
She choked. “Hunting? Seriously? That’s what you call it?”
“Tell me something. Why do you always chase the guys you can’t have?”
Her freckles stood out on her face as she gaped at him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what I said. I never see you go after a guy you could have. They are always the ones who don’t give a shit or don’t have time for you. I’ve seen you do it for years.” He lifted his beer and took a long drink. “Do you do it on purpose?”
She sputtered then glared. “You don’t know shit, Ryan.”
He grinned at her. “All right.”
“I so want to toss a drink in your face right now,” she growled at him.
He arched a brow. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
She pointed to her glass. “Another one.” The bartender didn’t hesitate and filled her shot again. She promptly downed it.
They were still in the Bellagio where Ethan and Shelby had tied the knot. He couldn’t believe it. Ethan. Married. To Shelby? They couldn’t be more opposite. He only came to see proof that they did it. And hell, it was Vegas. Who wouldn’t want to come?
“Are you gonna sit here and just get drunk? Cause I’m thinking there’s a lot to Vegas I still want to see.”
She eyed him. “Wouldn’t I hurt your game?”
He smirked. “Nope.” And it wouldn’t. Didn’t matter if he was with a girl or not. He never lacked for attention.
She rolled her eyes. “You are such a horndog. I mean really.”
“Fine. You can sit here and feel sorry for yourself or you can come with me. I can help you find a hookup.”
She snorted and leveled those bright blues on him. “You will not be my hookup.”
He laughed. “Fine.”
“Fine.” She paid her tab and spun. “Let’s go. To hell with Zak.”
The Bellagio was huge and soon they ran across a dance club with some hopping music. They finally made it inside, where lights strobed and flashed. Music thumped so hard he could feel it in his chest. Lila held up her drink and made her way to the dance floor.
He sighed. She was drunk. In Vegas. By herself…except for him. Damn.
Looked like he would be babysitting after all—even if he were almost as drunk as she was.
He worked his way through the crowd to her, where two guys, not just one, were grinding up against her. He narrowed his eyes and shook his head. She seemed oblivious. Damn tiny thing, even if she was mean as hell, was going to get a whole lot more than she bargained for.
He moved in, glared at the two skinny guys who backed off his look. He placed his hands on her hips, and she turned and laughed until she saw him.
“Ryan, what the hell are you doing?”
“Saving you from strangers.”
“Do not need your help.”
He was not chivalrous. The only woman he liked was his Aunt Nan, but he couldn’t let Lila get hurt. He’d known her since high school. So, he decided to play a little dirty. It was a game he played with women. Never serious. Never with women he knew personally. Never.
He’d decided to bend his own rule some. After all, it was Vegas, and she was sexy as hell. What’s the worst that could happen?
He pulled her back against him and swayed in time with her hips, and to the beat and music that thrummed through both of them.
LILA’S EYES WIDENED when she felt Ryan against her. His hot breath on her ear. His hand splayed wide over her stomach as he moved easily, rocking his hips with hers.
“What are you doing?” She stammered as her pulse kicked up a notch. She’d known him forever, but his body was hard and big behind her. Her head swam, and she couldn’t help but grind against him. He was safe. She knew he wouldn’t hurt her.
And damn, he felt good.
He never answered her, so she assumed he didn’t hear her. She turned, and his honeyed eyes darkened to whiskey. They were glazed, lowered and looking at her like she was a tempting morsel he could sink his teeth into. Her breath stalled, and he slid his hand down to her ass. Cupping it, he pulled her full against his chest. His scent was intoxicating. Her hands trailed up over his broad shoulders. How had she never noticed how wide his shoulders were and how perfectly shaped his lips were?
“What are you doing?” She repeated.
A slow sensuous smile crept across his face. Not the grin or the smirk she was used to. It hit her and she couldn’t breathe. Holy hell…when had Ryan become so hot?
“Saving your ass from strangers.” His words were a mere caress across her cheek.
“And you’re better?”
“You tell me? You were going to fuck someone. Would you rather it be a total stranger or me?”
She swallowed. “You don’t know that.” But it was hard to concentrate when his lips were so close to hers. Their bodies still moved, and every nerve tingled. Her body molded itself to him, whether she wanted it to or not.
He chuckled. “You couldn’t get Zak. You are mad. Drunk. In Vegas. You want to get laid. It’s written all over your face. In your every move. If you’d rather it be someone else, I’ll walk away.”
She lifted her chin and glared at him. “What makes you think you will do?”
He stopped, cupped her head, and slanted his lips over hers. Sucking the air out of her. Drowning her in a hungry kiss meant to melt her panties right off. And damn if they weren’t wet. Never had she been the center of someone’s focus so fully. He was totally consumed with consuming her.
He broke their kiss, leaving just centimeters between them. “What will it be?”
His breath was heavy. She couldn’t breathe at all. Drunk she might be and somewhere her brain shouted a resounding NO, but her libido was jumping up and down like a kid in a candy store… Just onemorelick!
“This is so wrong,” she murmured while her hand gripped the back of his neck. His skin was slick with sweat from their dancing and it only turned her on more.
His lips grazed across her cheek to her ear. “So, is that a no?”
“It should be.”
His low chuckle vibrated through her harder than the thump from the music, then his teeth bit below her ear followed by a lick.
Her knees gave out and she leaned fully against him. She gripped his hair and pulled his head back so she could fuse her mouth to his. He tasted so good. Too good. Beer and something decadent she shouldn’t be enjoying. Which was why she probably wanted more. She hooked one leg around his lean hips and groaned into his mouth. His arousal pressed precisely where she throbbed.
“Ah, hell, Lil, we need to get out of here before I take you right here on the floor.” She swayed when he released her but let him drag her out of the club.
What was that sound? Oh…she was laughing. No—giggling. She was in so much trouble. When they finally reached the right elevator, because Vegas was full of wrong elevators, she leaned against the cool metal. He leaned on the wall across from her. His head was low, his arms loose at his sides, legs braced wide, his dark sandy blond hair was mussed as always, but that intense stare never wavered.
He wore a black pinstripe button down and slacks. He looked good enough to eat.
She panted. Damn him and his sexiness. She licked her lips and a muscle jumped in his jaw. People stepped in. Stepped out. They never moved as the elevator slowly made its way up. Heat spiraled out of control. Hell, she’d never felt like this. Giggly women stepped between them—he never even batted an eye in their direction.
She shoved at her hair. It had been curled and pretty for the wedding, but their dancing had it hanging in messy waves. She bit the inside of her lip when his gaze skated up and down her body and a blush crept up her neck. How damn long was this elevator ride anyway?
More people stepped off and she took two short steps toward him to stand between his wide stance. His hand cupped the back of her neck while she braced her hands on either side of him. She could drown in those damn whiskey-honey-colored eyes of his. How had she missed how warm and sexy they were? How had she missed how damn good his hands felt on her?
Even if it was only his thumb that rubbed up and down the back of her neck.
“Finally,” he muttered as the doors swooshed open on their floor. He grabbed her hand and made his way down the halls toward his room. It barely registered that they passed Zak’s room on the way. Not with Ryan’s big hand laced with hers. He flipped open his wallet for his keycard and paused. “Are you sure?”
Now he wants to a gentleman? When she was hot and bothered and wanted to feel his naked body against hers.
Yes…this was Ryan.
But right now, she didn’t give a shit.
She took the card from his hand, swiped it, clicked open the door, grabbed his shirt and hauled him inside. She pushed him against the door, untucked his shirt and fumbled with buttons.
“Skin.I need skin.”
He popped buttons and peeled off his shirt. His hands shoved up into her hair as her hands explored his tanned and firm body. So damn firm.
“Crack. You’re like cracker candy,” she murmured as she kissed his chest.
His chest rumbled and she curled her arms around his neck and climbed up his body. Lips meeting lips. Chest to chest. His arm under her ass, he held her up and continued to devour her lips.
Consumed.
Such an apt way of describing what he was doing to her. They fell back on the bed and her world totally stopped.
Chapter 2
LILA WAS WARM. Safe. Wrapped up in blankets and a pair of strong arms. She sighed as she slowly came awake. A dreamy smile curled her lips as her lids fluttered open. She rubbed her face against a bare chest and looked up.
She screamed and shoved him so hard he slid off the bed.
She scrambled off, wrapped a sheet around her—oh-my-gawd— naked form.
“What the hell,” a muffled male voice said before he stuck his head up over the bed.
“This can’t be happening.” She stared wide-eyed at the one man she neverthought she’d everwake up next to.
A wicked grin graced Ryan’s lips, his dark sandy blond hair adorably mussed.
“Mornin’, Imp.”
She gaped when he stood, his equally naked body on full view. She slapped a hand over her eyes and spun so her back was to him. “Please, gawd, this can’t be happening.”
His chuckle did nothing to calm her panic. Arms came around her and his warm breath tickled her ear. “You said that already.”
She swallowed hard. Her body reacted to his in so many delicious ways it made her choke. Bits and pieces of last night slipped into her mind and she gasped at her own brazenness.
She’d been drunk. He’d been tipsy. She’d been pissed and looking for an outlet. He’d been available. She squeezed her eyes shut.
“Do you remember everything?” His lips skimmed her neck, and she hissed in a breath.
Oh, cripes did she remember everything.
She jerked out of his arms. “Yes. But this…this never happened. You understand.”
She fled into the bathroom and slammed the door. With a hand on her forehead, she stared at her reflection in the hotel mirror. This was a thousand different ways of screwed up. She’d had sex with Ryan.
Hell had definitely frozen over.
A quick scan of the bathroom and she knew her clothes were on the other side of the door. With Ryan. A naked one. She groaned, closed the toilet lid and slumped on it. She had planned on waking up in a pair of arms.
Zak’s—not Ryan’s. Definitely notRyan’s.
She’d been so frustrated and angry while Ryan had laughed his ass off. She forgot about that humiliation only to end up trading it for a new one. How had she ended up banging the biggest horndog in Nashville?
The guitarist for DirtSlap, Ryan Fennick.
She closed her eyes and swallowed. Time to face the ugly truth here. Ryan was a friend. Justa friend. Nothing more. She stood and put her hand on the door.
“Are you decent?”
“Yup.”
She opened the door a smidge and peeked out. He sat on the bed, a blanket over his hips. He went from the adorable friend to the hottest thing she’d ever seen. Muscles lined his arms, abs, and broad shoulders. Those perfect lips had felt just that against her skin. His body made hers hum. That signature smirk graced his face, but it was the searing intense look in his eyes from last night that was etched into her brain.
Friend, remember? Right.
He owned the boy-next-door look with his messy hair and always rumpled clothes. She’d always written him off as the joking prankster who paled next to Thrand, his best friend and drummer… and no one compared to tatted up Ethan.
Now? She knew just how many of those muscles would tense under her fingertips. How warm his skin was against hers. How incredibly nimble his fingers were.
“Looking for these?” Laughter danced in his light brown eyes as he lifted his hand, letting her thong dangle.
Heat hit her face and she almost tripped on the sheet as she snatched them. “This is not funny.”
“Ah, come on. It’s pretty funny.” He scratched his head, stretched his arms and yawned.
“Do you have any idea how disastrous this is? I’m not one of your groupies, Ryan.”
He yanked her down in his lap. “I know. You’re Imp. And you didn’t make my junk shrivel with your pixie dusk. Quite the opposite, I believe.”
Horrified, she smacked him on the arm as he laughed. He would bring that up. Ethan accused her of escaping Disneyland when she met him because she was so small. It had been a joke ever since. “Oh, my gawd, I cannot believe you just said that. Can you be serious for five seconds? We can’t…this can’t—”
He sighed and his large hand gripped her chin. “Yes. I know. It stays here.”
A horrible thought wormed in as she stared at his face. Had she hurt his feelings? No way. He leaned in closer, and she didn’t stop him when his lips kissed the corner of hers. They skimmed across her cheek and he hardened beneath her ass. A shiver slid down her spine. It took an extraordinary amount of restraint not to turn her lips to his.
“No,” he murmured against her ear. “Your pixie dust is quite the enhancement.”
“Damn you.” She scrambled off his lap as his laughter returned. She gathered up her clothes scattered around the room and stomped back into the bathroom to get dressed. She muttered every curse word she could think of as she yanked on her clothes, splashed water on her face and brushed her teeth with her finger. How she would love to blame all of this on him, but she distinctly remembered him giving her an out. Her answer? Hauling his ass inside his room and shoving him against the door. Hell.
She stepped back into the room and planted her hands on her hips. “Just so we are clear. This…didn’t happen. No one is to know.”
He wore shorts and stood at the window. The Nevada sun blared in and only highlighted the fact he was working an awesome tan. He crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head. “You’ve made that perfectly clear.”
Lila shifted on her feet, mimicked him and crossed her arms. This was so damn awkward. “Right.”
“Just one thing.” He dropped his arms and advanced on her, but she held her ground and stared up at his smirking face when he stopped only inches from her.
“What?” she squeaked and damned her voice for betraying her nervousness.
“I want one kiss before you walk out that door.”
“What? Why?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t plan this any more than you did.”
“Which explains perfectly why you want a kiss. Come on, we’re friends. Been friends for years. This screws up everything. I can’t—”
His large hands framed her face. How come she’d never noticed how big his hands were? They engulfed her. He dropped his head.
“One kiss won’t make a difference now,” he said just before his lips met hers.
It was one thing to recall his kisses of the night before…the fuzzy memories in the dark of night. But with a clear head and glaring light of day everything was too real. She tried to stop him, but her half-hearted attempt at pushing him away stopped when her hand hit his bare chest. Her gasp was his entrance, and he deepened the kiss. Sensation swamped her. From her lips that returned his kiss, to her toes that pushed up so she could get closer. His hands never left her face, but his body crowded her against the wall. Blocking out the sun and all reason. Her hands slid up his back and he wedged a knee between her legs.
He pulled back, rested his forehead on hers. His heavy breathing mixed with hers.
She blinked and reality hit her between the eyes. “I…I have to leave.”
She blindly ducked under his arm, fumbled with the door and ran out. Her body burned from his touch and she looked down the hall in time to see Skye, Shelby’s best friend and the maid of honor, leave Zak’s room.
Her mouth fell open.
“Lila.”
She spun around to face Ryan who stood in the doorway. The normal light brown of his eyes was darker, deeper. Looking exactly how he did last night in the long elevator ride up to his room.
“Come back in.”
She shook her head, backed up and fled.
Chapter 3
Nashville
RYAN SMIRKED AT the girl perched on his lap. He’d just finished filling in with a no-name band and the perky blonde was his reward. Her nails trailed along the back of his neck and his gaze strayed to Lila who stared at him with lips parted and a flush that made all her freckles stand out. Those bright blues bored into him and he did nothing but let the girl on his lap giggle in his ear.
He grinned at Lila, lifted his beer, and winked at her. Those eyes he saw in the dead of night, when no one was there, narrowed before she walked right up to him. That red hair matched a fiery temper, so he didn’t buy it when she gave him a sweet smile and put two beers on the table.
The girl on his lap grabbed one, not even giving Lila a cursory nod of thanks.
“Looked like you needed another,” Lila said casually and put her hand on her hip.
“Thanks, Imp.” He picked up the full one, took a drink, and kept his eyes on her.
“Anytime.” She turned away without any hesitation and waited on other customers.
Nothing.
Not a damn thing except when he caught her initially.
She had been the cute but spunky friend for so long. He was always saying something to rile her up. Never looked at her any other way than a friend. He didn’t plan what happened in Vegas. Sure, as hell didn’t plan on bending his own rule. But he never had sex with someone he knew, and it was an odd feeling. Something was different, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.
Suddenly his beer was stale on his tongue, and he shoved it away. He felt agitated and didn’t know why. He stood and dragged the giggling chick outside to the back alley. He shoved her against the wall and buried his face in her beckoning cleavage.
Later, he met up with the DirtSlap crew for burgers. His best friend and drummer for DirtSlap, Thrand, his girl Cassie, Zak and Lila were there.
“When will Ethan and Shelby be back?” he asked. “I’m itching to play real shit.”
“They should be back in a few days. You can’t rush a honeymoon,” Cassie said.
“Did you hear the lame stuff I just played?” He leaned back on two legs of his chair. “I keep playing this stuff and I’m gonna forget who I am.”
Thrand laughed. “Dude. You’ve always played that shit and been fine with it. I’ve told you more than once you’re wasting your talent on them. Half the people that came to the show were there to see you, not them.”
He raked a hand through his messy hair. Damn, Thrand was right. He had been fine with playing shit gigs…cause of the girls. But that girl tonight left the same bad taste as the beer had. Nothing beat playing live, but the satisfaction wasn’t there anymore. “Dammit, DirtSlap has ruined me for other bands.”
Cassie laughed and Lila rolled her eyes.
“Finally,” Thrand muttered and took a drink of his beer.
“Welcome to the dark side,” Zak murmured.
Lila glanced at her watch and stood. “Got an early. Zak, walk me to my car?”
Ryan couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing. What the hell was wrong with her? Why did she keep trying? It was ridiculous the way she kept beating her head against a wall.
She glared at him then turned her hopeful gaze on Zak who barely even looked at her.
“Naw.”
Zak took a drink of his water, and Ryan watched Lila from the corner of his eye. She hid her fluster well, plastered on a smile, and
headed out the door with a waggle of her fingers.
“I’m outta here too.” Ryan followed the scowling red head out the door.
“Is there a reason why you’re here?” Her clip was fast paced, but he easily kept up with her short-legged stride.
“Why not? The better question is why the hell do you keep after Zak.”
She slid to a halt, anger marking her face. “What the hell does that mean? And why do you care?” She resumed her frantic walking and pulled her keys out of her purse.
“Cause, as you reminded me so many times in Vegas, we’re friends. And as a friend it’s becoming sad to watch you waste your effort.”
“What, you trying to give me relationship advice? That’s brilliant.”
He laughed. “Relationship? He doesn’t even talk to you.”
She whirled on him. “Listen to me. Stay out of it. What I do or don’t do is none of your business.”
“You’re right. It’s not. But as a friend, I feel the need to remind you of what I said in Vegas. Quit chasing guys who can’t, or won’t, give you the time of day. It’s embarrassing.”
She stepped up to him and shoved him. Hard enough he took a step back. “And maybe you need to quit fucking everything that moves. Stay out of my life!” She unlocked her car, got in and sped off.
“Including you?” His retort was left to strangers littering the parking lot. He smirked and winked at those staring when his phone rang.
He pulled it out and tensed when Nan’s name illuminated in the dark. “Hello?”
“Ryan, I’m so sorry for calling you this late.” Her voice carried softly over the phone.
“What’s wrong?” He hustled to his truck, knowing before she said anything what was wrong.
She sighed. “Your sister is here.”
“Be there as soon as I can.”
He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as he headed to his hometown of Pegram, just outside of Nashville. It was never good when his sister showed up. Older than him by five years, she blamed him for their mom taking off. Hell, he’d only been five—not like he had any say at all about what his mom did or didn’t do. Luckily, his aunt Nancy, Nan to him, his mom’s twin sister, opened up her home, and heart, to them both.
Too bad his sister, Alice, was such a bitch.
Thirty minutes later, he pulled up to the small house. The front door was wide open and every light in the house was on. He rushed inside.
“Nan?” He stepped into the living room, where couch cushions were strewn across the floor. He heard his sister screeching from upstairs and raced up. If Alice had laid a hand on Nan, Ryan might flip his shit.
He stepped into Nan’s room the exact moment she was rushing out. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and glared at Alice.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Alice spat.
Ryan looked down at Nan’s wide, tear-filled eyes. “Are you all right?”
She wiped at her face and nodded. “Yes. I am now.”
He sighed and kissed her atop her head. “Go on. I’ll handle this.”
She gave him a shaky smile, patted his chest, and went downstairs.
He leaned a shoulder against the jamb and crossed his arms. A damn shame she was a shrew like their mom. She was a pretty girl. Drugs and alcohol hadn’t taken that from her just yet, but the lines were there. “I thought I told you to leave her alone.”
She pulled out a cigarette and lit it even though she knew Nan didn’t like people smoking in her house. “I need money.” She blew out a puff of smoke and flicked at her nail. “She would’ve given it to me had you not shown up. But of course, she would call you.”
“Of course, she called me. You come barging in like a fuckin’ bitch and start tearing her place apart, she’s gonna call someone. Should’ve been the cops.”
She laughed. “Nan wouldn’t call the cops on her niece.”
“No. But I sure as hell will. Get the fuck out, and don’t come back. I’m warning you.” He stalked up to her and yanked the cig out of her hand and squeezed out the burning tip with his fingers. Her face blanched. “I don’t want to hear you coming back around here again. Or I will get Nan to get a restraining order.”
“Fuck you, little brother,” she said and stomped out the door. He followed to make sure she didn’t say a word to Nan. When she was finally gone, Ryan turned to Nan, who was straightening her things. Tears tracked down her soft face. Where his mom was hard and cold, Nan was over-sensitive and caring. How they were twins, he would never understand.
“You can’t let her in.”
Nan straightened her spine. “I can’t give up on her. Not yet.”
“She’s thirty-one years old. She’s not going to change.” He raked a hand through his hair.
She pressed her lips together and hugged a couch pillow that had been thrown on the floor. “It’s never too late.”
He looked up at the ceiling and back at her, fighting to keep his voice from rising with his frustration. He wouldn’t yell at Nan. “You can’t keep doing this. Letting people walk all over you.”
“They’re not just people. They’re family.” She turned to him, her face set in stubborn lines.
“And they should care enough not to treat you this way. One day you gotta open your eyes and see them for who they are. They won’t change and they don’t care about you or me. Let my mom and sister fend for themselves. They made their bed, let them lay in it.” He shook his head. “One day, pushing you around isn’t going to be enough.”
“They would never hurt me.”
He walked up to her, placed his hands on her shoulders, and looked her in the eye. “Yes. They will. And I might not be here to protect you. What then?”
It would kill him if anything happened to her. She’d raised him. She was mom to him and the only woman he really had any respect for. She’d set her life aside to raise kids who were dumped on her doorstep one night with what little bit of clothes they had. She never
blinked an eye and took in a sobbing five-year-old boy and a sullen ten-year-old girl.
She patted his cheeks. “I will be fine. And unlike you, I believe in my sister and niece.”
He closed his eyes in defeat. Nan would regret those words one day and, worse than that, they would break her heart leaving him to pick up the pieces. “Promise me you’ll be careful. Call me immediately if they show.”
But nowadays it was harder to get a hold of him. Not like he could stop in the middle of a set and run out. And Thrand was talking about trying to play outside of Nashville. Hit up the Memphis scene for a bit. He was all for it…except leaving Nan to fend for herself against Natasha and Alice. That did not sit well with him.
“You are a good man. So much like your father.” She hugged him and said, “I’m headed to bed. Stay the night. You don’t need to be driving this late.”
He chuckled. Two a.m. might be late for her, but for him, sometimes he was just getting started. “I’ll be fine. Call me if you need me.”
She waved at him as she went upstairs, and he locked the door on his way out.
Chapter 4
LILA LAY IN bed and stared up at the ceiling. No amount of counting sheep was helping her fall asleep. She turned on the bedside light and opened the latest eBook she’d downloaded on her kindle. The fantasy world author Tami Lund created only reminded her of the reality of that one night in Vegas. How she wished it would stay there. Only her skin prickled every time she was around Ryan. And seeing that girl on his lap tonight didn’t help her mood, nor did she miss it when he drug off the whore to the back alley.
She punched her pillow and got up for a quick shower. It was almost time for her to leave anyway. She would be a walking zombie for the rest of the day, but at this rate, she was getting used to it. Such was the life of Lila.
She pulled up to the boarding house and stared with dread at what awaited her inside. A crystal ball would never tell her just what she was walking into. Cause she never knew. She sighed and meandered up the sidewalk and knocked on the door. The house mama, Carol, opened the door with a smile.
Lila pasted one on her face. “Mornin’ Carol.”
“Good morning. She’s in the kitchen.”
Lila nodded and steeled herself for whatever mood Gina might be in.
“My darlin’ daughter,” Gina beamed and gave her an awkward hug. Flour covered her hands. “I’m making homemade biscuits and gravy. Sit! It will be ready soon.”
Lila sighed and released a breath. For the moment, it was a good day for her mom. They could be twins. Same small frame and red hair, but her mom had muddy brown eyes. And for now, Gina didn’t make a point of telling her just where she got her own bright blues.
“Glad you’re having a good day, Mom.” Lila sank into a kitchen chair as Carol placed a cup of steaming coffee in front of her.
“Of course, I’m having a good day. Why wouldn’t I?” She spun, her sunny demeanor darkening. “Have you seen your father? Is that why I shouldn’t be having a good day? He’s a murdering savage and I won’t have him taking you from me. You hear me?” She slammed a rolling pin on the counter and a cloud of flour rose into the air.
Lila closed her eyes briefly. Of course, she’d said the wrong thing. “Those biscuits are going to be delicious. I can’t wait to have some with blackberry jam.”
Gina smiled, her mood swing giving Lila a whiplash. “I love blackberry jam. We have some don’t we, Carol?”
Lord, Lila hoped they did.
Carol nodded. “Yes. We do. Now let me help you finish up so you can have breakfast with your daughter.”
And on it went. The roller coaster that was her mom up and down every second. She never knew what she might say. It was all a guessing game she would never win.
An hour later, she sat in her car and took big gulps of air. Three days a week, an hour each time, she did this. Three days a week she endured the torture. Three days a week her mom ripped her to shreds.
And no one knew.
Her dirty little secret.
She drove to Starbucks, ordered her favorite cookie Frappuccino, and sat in the busy coffee shop until she could breathe again. Be herself again. She tugged at her red braid nervously. She tried to pull herself together from the nightmare that was her mom. It always took a bit, which was why she always went early. It gave her time. Twenty-four years of dealing with her, you’d think she would be more immune to it. But obviously, that wasn’t the case.
She looked around and spotted Ryan in line and groaned. She wanted to hide under a table but there was no way she could disguise her damn red hair, so she didn’t even try. He ordered, got his coffee and plopped in the chair across from her with his smug smile.
“Trying to pretend to not see me, huh?”
She gazed at him and raised a brow. “I didn’t take you for the frou-frou coffee type.”
He laughed and shrugged. “Not much you do know about me. Except…” He waggled his brows.
She shook her head and looked down to hide her heated face. “Never happened, remember?”
“Oh, yeah, right. As you keep reminding me.”
“It’s a little early for a Saturday, what are you doing up? Thought you might be curled up with some cheap thing,” she asked as she sipped some of her coffee. She refused to examine why the thought bothered her.
He gave her a curious smile and sun spilled onto his head, bringing out the gold in his hair. “Why don’t you come with me and you can find out?”
“Sorry. Work in a bit.”
“It’s in this shopping mall. Come with me for a while.” He stood, grabbed her hand and tugged her out the door. She threw her mostly empty cup away on their way out.
The shopping mall had everything. From clothing, hardware, restaurants & pet stores. One could get it all right here. She walked beside him, hands in her pockets. “What are you up to?’
He flashed his trademark smirk as they went in the pet store. “You’ll see.”
She followed him toward the back of the store. Barking dogs got louder. A sign said, ‘Adoption Event’. Cats and dogs were all lined up in crates. Did he want to adopt a pet? He strode up to a lady.
“Hi, Joyce.” He picked up a paper name tag and stuck it on his chest.
She smiled brightly at Ryan and gave him a hug. “Thank goodness you’re here. One volunteer is sick. Who did you bring with you?” she asked as she peered around him to look at Lila.
He smiled. “This is Lila.”
“Nice to meet you, Lila. Have you come to volunteer, too?”
Her eyes widened at Ryan. “You volunteer?”
He gave her a lopsided grin and shrugged. “Yea.”
“You didn’t know? He’s volunteered here at Noah’s Ark Adoption forever,” Joyce said. “He’s invaluable.”
He wrote ‘Lila’ on a sticker nametag and put it over the Boosey’s logo on her shirt. “Now you’re all set.”
He stopped at a crate and knelt down. “Hey, boy. Let’s see if I find you a forever home.” He opened the crate, attached a leash and led a large dog out. “Meet Dice.”
She crouched down and rubbed his ears. She could tell he was older. His black fur had some gray in his muzzle. “Hello, Dice.” He wagged his tail and gave her a kiss, making her laugh.
“He likes you,” Ryan said with a smile.
Not a smirk. Not the intense look from Vegas. A real genuine smile and she smiled back. She couldn’t help it. When she stood up, he handed her the leash so he could answer questions for a couple about a cat. Their eyes briefly met before he turned his attention back to them.
Lila was amazed as he talked to people about the pet adoption process. He charmed ladies and kids alike. She would’ve never guessed he gave his time to something like this. She only knew him as a prankster and a horndog. A comedian who didn’t take anything seriously, and she’d known him since high school. Who knew he had some depth under all that shallowness?
When an older gentleman approached her, she smiled. “Can I help you?’
He cleared his throat, “Do you have any older dogs?”
“This dog right here. His name is Dice. I’m afraid I don’t more than that.”
LILA WAS CALLING his name over the barking dogs and Ryan walked up to her. “What’s up, Imp?”
She turned to him and gave him a natural smile. He was used to her giving him eyerolls or smacking his arm over something he said. Not this. The way she was smiling at him now warmed her eyes.
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BREAKING INTO THE WRITING GAME
Everybody is writing something nowadays. It used to be just the Literary or Newspaper men who were supposed to know what they were writing about that did all the writing. But nowadays all a man goes into office for is so he can try to find out something and then write it when he comes out.
Now being in Ziegfeld Follies for almost a solid year in New York has given me an inside track on some of our biggest men in this country who I meet nightly at the stage door.
So I am breaking out in a rash here. I will cite an example to prove to you what you are going to get. Not long ago there was a mess of Governors here from various Provinces. And a good friend of mine brought back to the stage and dressing room Governor Allen of Kansas. Well, I stood him in the wings and he was supposed to be looking at my act, but he wasn’t. He was watching what really is the Backbone of our Show He anyway heard some of my Gags about our Government and all who are elected to help missrun it.
So at the finish of my act I dragged him out on the stage and introduced him to the audience. He made a mighty pretty little speech and said he enjoyed Will’s Impertinences, and got a big laugh on that. Said I was the only man in America who was able to tell the truth about our Men and Affairs.
When he finished I explained to the audience why I was able to tell the truth. It is because I have never mixed up in Politics. So you all are going from time to time to get the real Low Down on some of those Birds who are sending home the Radish Seed.
You know the more you read and observe about this Politics thing, you got to admit that each party is worse than the other. The one that’s out always looks the best. My only solution would be to keep ’em both out one term and hire my good friend Henry Ford to run the
whole thing and give him a commission on what he saves us. Put his factory in with the government and instead of Seeds every spring mail out those Things of his.
Mail Newberry one every morning Special Delivery.
Speaking of Henry Ford, I see where Uncle Henry has a new Rule in force out in his Factory where they paste those Knick Knacks together. Every man working there has to have his breath smelled every morning. That, of course, seems like a pretty strict Rule to put in force in a So called Free Country, and it has come in for a lot of criticism in the papers, but the way I look at it, it is absolutely necessary. Should a man go to work in there who had had a few strong shots of some of our National Drinks of today, he would blow his breath on one of those FOB’S, and blow all the bolts right out of it.
Now Mr. Ford is a very smart man and in passing these rigid rules I bet you he knows where to stop. I bet you that he won’t instruct his Salesmen to be so strict with a Purchaser. In fact his salesmen smell of your breath when you come in to buy one and if it shows no signs of drink they don’t try to sell you. He is smart enough to know a sober man would never buy one. Mind you, all this smelling of breath is done, not on the Company’s time, but on the time of the Workers. Some men have to get up at 4 o’clock in the Morning to get their breath examined so they can get to work at 8. Imagine a line of 50 thousand all waiting to blow at a single individual TESTER! Think what he must be with all those Italian workmen passing by him. He is just 180 pounds of Garlic by night.
The University of Michigan is putting in a Chair in their Faculty devoted to the Art of Breath Detecting. But there is always a way to defeat any reform. Drinkers will learn to hold their breath like a Diver.
I tell you Folks, all Politics is Apple Sauce.
The President gave a Luncheon for the visiting Governors, where they discussed but didn’t TRY Prohibition. It was the consensus of opinion of all their speeches that there was a lot of drinking going on and that if it wasn’t stopped by January that
they would hold another meeting and try and get rid of some of the stuff.
Senator Curtis proposed a bill this week to stop Bootlegging in the Senate, making it unlawful for any member to be caught selling to another member while on Government property. While the bill was being read a Government employe fell just outside the Senate door and broke a Bottle of Pre-War Stuff (made just before last week’s Turkish War). Now they are carpeting all the halls with a heavy material so in case of a fall there will be no serious loss.
THEY ARE CARPETING ALL THE HALLS OF THE SENATE SO IN CASE OF A FALL THERE WILL BE NO SERIOUS LOSS.
Well, New Years is coming and I suppose we will have to hear and read all those big men’s New Year greetings, such men as Schwab
and Gary and Rockefeller and all of them. Saying the same old Apple Sauce. That they are Optimistic of the coming year and everybody must put their shoulder to the wheel, and produce more and they predict a great year. Say, if we had those Birds’ Dough we could all be just as optimistic as they are. But it’s a good Joke and it’s got in the papers every year and I suppose always will.
Now the Ku Klux is coming into New York and kinder got it in for the Jewish People. Now they are wrong; I am against that. If the Jewish People here in New York City hadn’t jumped in and made themselves good fellows and helped us celebrate our Christmas, the thing would have fell flat. They sold us every Present.
The Ku Klux couldn’t get much of a footing here in New York. If there was some man they wanted to take out and Tar and Feather they wouldn’t know where he lived. People move so often here their own folks don’t know where they live.
And even if they found out the Elevator man in the Apartment wouldn’t let ’em up.
See where there is bills up in Congress now to change the Constitution all around, elect the President in a different way and have Congress meet at a different time. It seems the men who drew up this thing years ago didn’t know much and we are just now getting a bunch of real fellows who can take that old Parchment and fix it up like it should have been all these years. It seems it’s just been luck that’s got us by so far. Now when they get the Constitution all fixed up they are going to start in on the 10 Commandments, just as soon as they find somebody in Washington who has read them.
See where they are talking about another Conference over here. The Social Season in Washington must be lagging.
Well, I think they ought to have it. These Conferences don’t really do any harm and they give certain Delegates pleasure. Of course nothing they ever pass on is ever carried out. (Except in Greece, where they are all carried out.) But each Nation gets a certain amount of Publicity out of it, and us masses that read of it get a certain amount of amusement out of it.
Borah himself admits he don’t know what it’s for or what they should do. But it looks like a good Conference season and there is no reason why we shouldn’t get in on one.
BESIDES, DID YOU EVER REALIZE THIS COUNTRY IS 4 CONFERENCES BEHIND NOW?
I want to apologize and set my many readers straight as to why I am blossoming out as an infliction on you all.
It seems a prominent newspaper syndicate had Lloyd George signed up for a pack of his Memoirs. Well, after the late election Lloyd couldn’t seem to remember anything, so they sent for me to fill in the space where he would have had his junk.
You see, they wanted me in the first place, but George came along and offered to work cheaper, and also to give his to charity. That benevolence on his part was of course before England gave him his two weeks’ notice.
Now I am also not to be outdone by an ex-Prime Minister donating my receipts from my Prolific Tongue to a needy charity. The total share of this goes to the civilization of three young heathens, Rogers by name, and part Cherokee Indians by breeding.
Now, by wasting seven minutes, if you are a good reader—and ten to twelve if you read slow—on me, you are really doing a charitable act yourself by preventing these three miniature bandits from growing up in ignorance. So please help a man with not only one little Megan, but three little Megans.
A great many people may think that this is the first venture of such a conservative paper as the Illiterate Digest in using something of a semi-humorous nature, but that is by no means the case. I am following the Kaiser, who rewrote his life after it was too late. I realize what a tough job I have, succeeding a man who to be funny only had to relate the facts.
Please don’t consider these as my memoirs. I am not passing out of the picture, as men generally are who write those things.
SETTLING THE CORSET PROBLEM OF THIS COUNTRY
(An After Dinner speech made at a Banquet of the Corset Manufacturers of America at the Waldorf-Astoria, New York.)
SETTLING THE CORSET PROBLEM OF THIS COUNTRY
Since I last wrote you all there has been an awful lot of fashion Shows and all their By Products held here in New York. All the out of Town buyers from all over have been here. So, on behalf of New York City, I had to help welcome them at their various Banquets. There was the retail Milliners’ big fashion show at the Astor Ball Room where they showed 500 Hats and me. Some of the hats were just as funny looking as I was.
Well, I settled the Hat and Dress business to the satisfaction of everybody but the Milliners. So the next night at the Commodore Hotel I mingled with those Princes of Brigands, the Leather and Shoe men, and later I want to tell all you people just how they operate. For we never paid more for our Shoes and were nearer barefooted than we are today, so don’t think that I am bought off this week by those Pasteboard Highbinders: it’s only that I want to talk to the Ladies today.
During this reign of Indigestion I was called on to speak at a big Banquet at the Waldorf to the Corset Manufacturers. Now that only shows you what a degrading thing this after Dinner speaking is. I want to get out of it in a few weeks and back to the Movies.
This speaking calls on a fellow to learn something about articles that a self-respecting man has no business knowing about. So that’s why I am going to get away. If a Man is called on to tell in a Public Banquet room what he knows about Corsets, there is no telling what other Ladies’ wearing apparel he might be called on to discuss. So me back to the Morals of Hollywood before it’s too late.
I was, at that, mighty glad to appear at a dinner given by an essential Industry. Just imagine, if you can, if the flesh of this Country were allowed to wander around promiscuously! Why, there ain’t no telling
where it would wind up. There has got to be a gathering or a gettogether place for everything in this world, so, when our human Bodies get beyond our control, why we have to call on some mechanical force to help assemble them and bring back what might be called the semblance of a human frame.
These Corset Builders, while they might not do a whole lot to help civilization, are a tremendous aid to the Eyesight. They have got what you would call a Herculean task as they really have to improve on nature. The same problem confronts them that does the people that run the Subways in New York City. They both have to get so many pounds of human flesh into a given radius. The subway does it by having strong men to push and shove until they can just close the door with only the last man’s foot out. But the Corset Carpenters arrive at the same thing by a series of strings.
They have what is known as the Back Lace. This is known as a One Man Corset.
Now the Front Lace can be operated without a confederate. By judiciously holding your breath and with a conservative intake on the Diaphragm you arrange yourself inside this. Then you tie the strings to the door knob and slowly back away. When your speedometer says you have arrived at exactly 36, why, haul in your lines and tie off.
We have also the Side Lace that is made in case you are very fleshy, and need two accomplices to help you congregate yourself. You stand in the middle and they pull from both sides. This acts something in the nature of a vise. This style has been known to operate so successful that the victims’ buttons have popped off their shoes.
Of course, the fear of every fleshy Lady is the broken Corset String. I sat next to a catastrophe of this nature once. We didn’t know it at first, the deluge seemed so gradual, till finally the Gentleman on the opposite side of her and myself were gradually pushed off our Chairs. To show you what a wonderful thing this Corseting is, that Lady had come to the Dinner before the broken string episode in a small Roadster. She was delivered home in a Bus.
They have also worked out a second line of control, or a place to park an extra string on the back. You can change a string now while you wait, and they have demountable strings.
Now, of course, not as many women wear Corsets as used to but what they have lost in women they have made up with men. When corsets were a dollar a pair they used to be as alike as two Fords. A clerk just looked you over, decided on your circumference and wheel base and handed you out one. They come in long Boxes and you were in doubt at first if it was a Corset or a Casket.
Nowadays with the Wraparound and the Diaphragm-Control, and all those things a Corset Manufacturer uses more rubber than a Tire Co.
Imagine me being asked to talk at a Corset Dinner, anyway; Me, who has been six years with Ziegfeld Follies and not a Corset in the Show.
Men have gone down in History for shaping the destinies of Nations, but I tell you this set of Corset Architects shape the Destinies of Women and that is a lot more important than some of the shaping that has been done on a lot of Nations that I can name off hand. Another thing makes me so strong for them, if it wasn’t for the Corset Ads in Magazines men would never look at a Magazine.
HOW TO TELL A BUTLER, AND OTHER ETIQUETTE
AS I OPENED THE DOOR TO LET HER IN 2 OF OUR DOGS AND 4 CATS CAME IN
HOW
TO
TELL A BUTLER, AND OTHER ETIQUETTE
Somebody must have seen me out in Public; I think it was Emily Post, for she sent me a book on ETIQUETTE that she had written herself.
It has 700 pages in it. You wouldn’t think there was that much Etiquette, would you! Well, I hadn’t read far when I found that I was wrong on most every line of the whole Book.
Now, you wouldn’t think a Person could live under fairly civilized conditions (as I imagined I was doing) and be so dumb as to not have at least one of these forms of Etiquette right. Well, when I got through reading it, I felt like I had been a heathen all my life. But after I got to noticing other people I met I didn’t feel so bad. Some of them didn’t know much more about it than I did.
So I predict that her Book and all the other things you read now on Etiquette are going to fall on fertile soil. Now take, for instance, being introduced, or introducing someone; that is the first thing in the Book. I didn’t know up to then that inflection of the voice was such a big factor in introductions.
She says that the prominence of the party being introduced determines the sound of the voice, as she says for instance, “Are you there?” and then on finding out you are there she says, “Is it raining?”
Now the inflection that you use on asking any one if they are there, is the same inflection that you are to use on introducing Mr. Gothis, if he is the more prominent of the two. Then for the other person, who Mr. Gothis probably got his from, why, you use the “Is it raining?” inflection.
You see, a fellow has to know a whole lot more than you think he does before he can properly introduce people to each other. First he has to be up on his Dunn and Bradstreet to tell which of the two is the more prominent. Second, he has to be an Elocutionist so he will know just where to bestow the inflection.
Well, I studied on that introduction Chapter till I thought I had it down pat. So I finally got a chance to try it out. My wife had invited a few friends for Dinner, and as she hadn’t finished cooking it before they come, I had to meet them and introduce them to each other.
Well, I studied for half an hour before they come, trying to figure out which one was the most prominent so I could give her the “Are you there?” inflection. It was hard to figure out because any one of them couldn’t be very prominent and be coming to our House for Dinner. So I thought, well, I will just give them both the “Is it raining?” inflection.
Then I happened to remember that the Husband of one of them had just bought a Drug Store, so I figured that I better give her the benefit of the “Are you there?” inflection, for if Prohibition stays in effect it’s only a matter of days till her Husband will be prominent.
So, when they arrived I was remembering my opening Chapter of my Etiquette on Introductions. When the first one come I was all right; I didn’t have to introduce her to anyone. I just opened our front door in answer to the Bell which didn’t work. But I was peeping through the Curtains, and as I opened the door to let her in 2 of our Dogs and 4 Cats come in.
Well, while I was shooing them out, apologizing, and trying to make her believe it was unusual for them to do such a thing, now there I was! This Emily Post wrote 700 pages on Etiquette, but not a line on what to do in an emergency to remove Dogs and Cats and still be Nonchalant.
The second Lady arrived just as this Dog and Cat Pound of ours was emptying. She was the new Prescription Store Owner’s Wife and was to get the “Are you there?” inflection. Her name was (I will call
her Smith, but that was not her name). She don’t want it to get out that she knows us.
Well, I had studied that Book thoroughly but those animals entering our Parlor had kinder upset me. So I said, “Mrs. Smith, Are you there? I want you to meet Mrs. Jones. Is it raining?”
Well, these Women looked at me like I was crazy. It was a silly thing to say. Mrs. Smith was there of course, or I couldn’t have introduced her, and asking Mrs. Jones if it was raining was most uncalled for, because I had just looked out myself and, besides, any one that ever lived in California knows it won’t rain again till next year
But that didn’t discourage me. I kept right on learning and from now on I am just mangy with Etiquette.
Why, just the other day, I heard what I had always considered up to then a well behaved Woman, introduce one Gentleman friend to another and she said, “Allow me to present.”
Now anybody that’s ever read the first 5 lines in the book knows that the word Present is never used only on formal occasions. You should always say “May I introduce” on all informal occasions. There was a Woman who, to look at her, you would never have thought she could possibly be so rude and uncultured as to have made a mistake like that.
It just spoiled her for me. I don’t care how many nice things she may do in the future, she just don’t belong.
Rule 2, Chapter 5—: “No Gentleman under any circumstances chews Gum in Public.” Now that kinder knocked me for a Goal, for I had been Chewing Gum before some of the best families in this Country. But from now on it is out. I am going to live according to the Book.
Chapter 6—: “Gentleman should not walk along the Street with their Cane or Stick striking the picket fence. Such habits should be curbed in the nursery.”
Now that rule didn’t hit me so hard for I am not lame and I don’t carry a Cane yet, and furthermore, there is no Picket fences in California.
If they had enough pickets to make a fence they would take them and build another Bungalow and rent it.
Outside of eating with a sharp knife, there is no rule in the Book that lays you liable to as much criticism as the following: “Whether in a private Car, a Taxi, or a carriage, a lady must never sit on a Gentleman’s left, because according to European Etiquette a Lady ‘on the left’ is no lady.”
I thought at first when I read that it was a misprint, and meant a Lady should never sit on a Gentleman’s Lap, instead of Left. But now I find that it really was Left. So I guess you can go ahead and sit on the lap. It don’t say not to. But don’t sit on his Left, or you can never hope to enter smart society.
Then it says “the Owner of the car should always occupy the right hand side of the rear seat.” No matter how many payments he has to make on it, that is considered his seat.
Chapter 7 is given over entirely to The Opera. What to wear, when to applaud—it tells everything but how to enjoy the thing. The fellow that figures out how to enjoy the Opera in a foreign tongue, without kidding himself or fourflushing, has a fortune in store for him.
BIRDS THAT NEVER CAN TELL THE SERVANTS FROM THE GUESTS.
Chapter 12 tells how the Butler should dress. You don’t know what a relief it was to me to find that news. I never had one, but if I do I will
know what to costume him in.
The Book says: “At six o’clock the Butler puts on his dress Suit. The Butler’s suit differs from that of a Gentleman by having no braid on his trousers.”
Now all you Birds that never could tell the Servants from the Guests, except somebody called one of them a Butler and the other a Gentleman, you can’t tell them that way. More than likely the Butler is the Gentleman of the two.
But I can tell the Butler. He has no braid on his trousers.
Now, all I got to do is find out how to tell the Gentleman.
If you see people walking around looking down at your trousers, in the future, you will know they are looking to see if the braid is left off.
DEFENDING MY SOUP PLATE POSITION
I WOULD INVENT A TRIANGLE SHAPE SLIDE THAT COULD BE PUSHED UNDER THE PLATE
