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“Oh shit,” was all he could say.I was furious. “Here’s the deal,” I said. “I’m going to break your arm and then you’re going to go home and pull those videos off or I’m going to come back and break your other arm.”Suddenly the putz got brave. “I don’t think that’s going to happen,” he said and came at me with a knife.A couple of basic moves and he was kneeling on the pavement holding his broken right arm.I picked up the knife and threw it over the fence into the bushes.“Gone by morning,” was. "I could tell you liked it. I was surprised to see you walk into that bar."She took a deep breath, looking at me. "When I left that conference I changed out of my slick professional clothes—you know black pants, a white blouse, a maroon vest, my hair in a tight bun, my classy glasses hanging on a thin chain, heels—very professional but I couldn't wait to get them off and put on those jeans, let my hair down, put on that tight turtle neck and get the hell out of there—not just out of that fancy. I had no hair there either.The top of my slip had a lace trim too.I wondered whether the women crossing the road thought that I was onlywearing a slip or a slip dress.I was on the Westway now and had come to accept that anyone who saw mewould think that I was a sexy woman rather than a crossdressed man.I even thought of pouting at the builder crossing the road as I reachedthe lights at Old Oak Road, but thought better of it as I saw him staringat me and checked that the doors had not somehow. Groaning she attempted to dislodge herself from the crevice between the back and front seats that her bum had fallen into, the blinding pain in her shoulder letting her know that indeed, it had been dislocated.Collapsing onto the almost slimy, rain soaked leather of the back seat she took stock of the situation, the tree branch jutting through the front windshield, ending where Emily's head should have rested, had she not been curled into a whimpering ball upon the floor mats.Thank God Kenneth.
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