At 6 am the hotel started to serve breakfast, so I got up, knocked on the bathroom door and told Patty that since we were both still awake, we might as well get an early start. When she finally unlocked the door and let me use the bathroom, there was a love letter waiting for me next to the sink that she had written during the night.
This was the actual day of her birthday now. I took her on a ghost hunting tour in Savannah, Georgia, and then to a fancy restaurant overlooking the river. At the River Street Market Place I bought her a chain with a hand-crafted pendant that caught her eye. I wanted her to have a nice birthday.
Then we got back on the I-95 and kept driving north. Suddenly she pulled out her little lipstick dildo. The one she had shown me in my living room a few days earlier, when she asked me if I'd like to fuck her in the ass, or at least fuck her while she had that dildo in her ass.
"Remember my little friend?" she asked with a naughty smile.
"Yeah, I remember."
"Wanna watch me masturbate?"
Well, no I really didn't. But obviously she wanted me to, otherwise she wouldn't have asked. It was her birthday, so I really didn't want to make her feel any more rejected. "Sure," I said with a fake smile.
She took off her white summer dress and her panties. She was sitting next to me, naked, with her lipstick dildo in her hand. She turned it on, and it started buzzing while she was rubbing it against her clit. Then she put her feet up against the windshield, like she was sitting in a gynecologist's chair. "Feel how wet I am," she moaned. I rubbed her clit for a second or two. She was wet alright.
All I could think was: Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.
I could not believe she was actually doing that, while cars and trucks were passing us and those people could see her right through the window.
I just wanted this to be over with sooo badly. But I didn't want to make her feel like shit on her birthday. She obviously thought she was being incredibly sexy. Carpe Diem! Seize the day! YOLO! It was her birthday, and dammit, she could masturbate in plain sight for everyone to see, if she wanted to! I think I would have completely crushed her, if I had told her: "God damn, put some clothes on, woman! You're making a spectacle of yourself!"
I kept thinking to myself: eyes on the road, eyes on the road, eyes on the road.
Eventually she came and told me again to feel how wet her pussy was. There was white slimy foam all over it. It was like her vibrator had churned her wetness into butter. Really not sexy.
I loved watching Alice masturbate with her little vibrating egg. She was cute when she did it. Understated. She wasn't putting on a Broadway show. I loved to see and feel Alice get all wet. And she looked beautiful when she had an orgasm. That didn't happen very often though, since heroin makes a lot of girls pretty numb down there.
And I'm sure I would have liked it, if Alice had masturbated next to me in the car. Maybe not the feet against the windshield. That was a little much. But with Patty, all that over the top sex was just making my skin crawl at this point.
And then she did it againnn! A few minutes after she finished masturbating, she gave an encore performance. Up her feet went against the windshield and there she was, going to town again.
Eyes on the road, eyes on the road, eyes on the road.
We arrived at Kennedy Airport late at night. I had left my car there when I flew to Florida, right before I called Patty to let her know she could hide from the paparazzi at my place in Bonita Springs.
Patty asked me to follow her to Scranton and stay with her. I said: "No, I got no sleep at all last night, because you were crying in the bathroom til 6 am. I really need to go to sleep. I'll get in touch with you tomorrow."
GOING TO REHAB
"Don't bother trusting me. Don't bother waiting. Don't bother changing things that won't give into changing. Just let me go away."
Blue October
After Patty and I parted ways at Kennedy Airport, I called my ex-wife Donna, who lived less than ten minutes away from the airport, and told her I was in New York. I asked her if I could stay there for a day or two.
After our divorce over a year earlier, Donna and I didn't talk for a few weeks. She was very bitter. But eventually, little by little, we started talking to each other again, and remained close friends. We talked on the phone a lot, and I visited her in Brooklyn every so often.
We used to have four dogs together. I traveled too much to take care of them properly, so they stayed with Donna. They were like our children, so I was always happy to see them when I was in Brooklyn. Donna and I didn't have sex anymore, but we had been family for so long, she was always going to be my family, no matter what some paper says. She was like a sister to me now.
After my crazy two weeks with Patty, I really wanted to tell Donna what happened. But I couldn't. I never told her anything about my personal life, or other females, because I didn't want to hurt her feelings. As far as she was concerned, I was celibate.
The next day I ended whatever relationship Patty thought we had. I took the coward's way out and texted her: "Hey, I had a good time. But I'm still in love with Alice, so I'm gonna go back with her. I hope u understand." Short and to the point.
Patty's reply was surprisingly civil: "I understand. U gotta follow ur heart."
But then half an hour later I got another text from her. A little snippier. Then I got another text from her. And another. And another. Each text was nastier than the one before. Sooner or later I started replying in the same mean tone. By the end of the day we were sending each other hateful tirades.
While Patty was staying with me in Florida, I had come clean about Alice. So now Patty knew exactly which buttons to press to get under my skin: "Ur dating an addict? Ur so stupid! They never get clean! She doesn't love u. She's just using u! All she wants is money for drugs. She'll never quit heroin!"
And I knew exactly which buttons to press to get under her skin: "WTF is wrong w u? Sex 5 times a day? I felt like u were raping me! And that shit in the car? Sick! And u give the worst blowjobs ever!"
I found out much later that Patty had become so unhinged when I "broke up" with her, she quit her job at the end of that day. Then she left Scranton, because she couldn't face her family, friends and co-workers anymore, after she had been gushing to them that I was The One and she was gonna marry me. She moved in with a female friend in Washington DC. Then she decided to be gay, and posted a profile on a lesbian dating website. I guess I had ruined men for her for good. Well, no, actually her lesbian phase didn't last very long. But she did try to kill herself.
Anyway, a day or two after Patty and I parted ways at Kennedy Airport, and I stayed with Donna in Brooklyn, I drove to Liberty, to check out my new condo.
It was in a complex called Grandview Palace. It used to be a fancy resort called Brown's Hotel. The Browns was one of the most popular Catskills resorts a few decades ago. During its heyday, Jerry Lewis, Bob Hope, Woody Allen, Mel Brooks, Billy Crystal, Rodney Dangerfield, Harry Bellafonte, Tony Bennett and many other famous celebrities performed there regularly. In 1997, it was converted into a condo complex and renamed The Grandview Palace. The lady at the front desk told me that the movie Dirty Dancing with Patrick Swayze had been filmed here in the 80s.
I bought the condo dirt cheap at an online real estate auction, while I was in Florida with Patty. The previous owner had simply abandoned it, and didn't even take his stuff. So the condo was fully furnished. Perfect! I could move right in. I just had to clean it up a little.
I picked Alice up in Middletown and she helped me clean. She liked the condo. It was small, but cute. It was on the third floor and the living room balcony overlooked the pool.
The reason why Alice had started texting me again all of a sudden, while Patty was visiting me in Florida, was because she had found out that she was pregnant, and she needed someone to talk to.
Hookers obviously have sex with a lot of people. But they usually don't like to kiss them, and they insist on using a condom. Making lov
e, with kissing and no condom, is usually reserved for their boyfriend.
Alice and I had made love without a condom hundreds of times, but I respected her wishes and always pulled out and came on her stomach or back. I wanted her to trust me, and I didn't want to be the kind of guy who would make her feel powerless by cuming inside of her, unless she told me it was ok.
Papi didn't give a shit. If she tried to tell him to use a condom, or at least to pull out, he hit her. So she ended up getting pregnant by him. Just like she had gotten pregnant a few times by other dope boys in the past, and that's why I had seen those abortions in her medical records.
When Alice told me that she was pregnant by Papi, while we were lying in bed at the new condo in Liberty, it was pretty obvious that she was horrified by the idea of being tied to this abusive scumbag for the rest of her life. But she had promised herself that she would never get another abortion. So now she felt trapped. She really wanted to terminate her pregnancy, but she needed someone to tell her that it was ok to get the abortion.
When Alice had told her grandma Gina a few days earlier that she was pregnant, she had hoped Gina would tell her not to keep the baby and not to throw her life away with a guy like Papi. But Gina was convinced that Alice's baby was God's will. Gina believed that the baby was sent by God to turn Alice's life around. She was convinced that once Alice had this tiny little person to take care of and love unconditionally, she would get clean and stay clean.
Although I do believe that unconditional love is the key in a drug addict's recovery, I didn't believe for a second that having a baby with Papi Chuloco, the abusive drug dealer, was going to get Alice clean. Being tied to this violent lowlife would probably drive her to commit suicide, before it made her consider getting clean. I had seen enough girls like Mary, and Alice's other close friend Becky, who had kids and then continued to do drugs anyway, because the fathers of their children were garbage.
I told Alice that I disagreed with Gina, and if she had this baby, her life would not be idyllic like a Norman Rockwell painting, but like the miserable life in Turn The Page by Metallica.
Remember I mentioned earlier that many bands produce two versions of their music videos? A censored one for America, and an uncensored one with nudity for European music TV. Metallica's uncensored version of the music video for Turn The Page shows a blonde woman who lives in hotel rooms with her little daughter. During the day she works in a dirty strip club, taking her clothes off in front of ogling perverts, while her little daughter waits for her backstage. And at night she walks the streets as a hooker and has sex with abusive men who rape and beat her in the same hotel room she shares with her daughter. It's a really, really sad video.
That video is one of the reasons why I don't like going to strip clubs. How is it sexy to sit in a dirty room filled with a hundred sweaty predatory douchebags staring at a naked girl? The dick to pussy ratio in that room does not work for me.
And the one time someone had talked me into going to a strip club with them, I just felt bad for the girls. I just wanted to give them a hug, not stare at their naked bodies. These girls all had this empty stare in their eyes while they were on stage, like they really didn't want to be there, and their mind was somewhere completely different. Kinda like what happened to my mind when my father tried to break through my bedroom door and kill my mother and me.
Anyway, Alice agreed that having a baby with Papi would definitely not make her life better and she definitely would not get clean because of it. She knew how miserable her friend Mary's life was. It really was just as bad as the girl's life in that Metallica video. And Alice knew how messed up in the head Mary's little son Mikey was because of it.
Alice's friend Becky was not much better. Well, she wasn't a stripper or a hooker yet, because she had managed to limit herself to shooting only one bag of heroin at a time, and only twice a day, so her habit was just $20 per day. But even she couldn't quit drugs when she had her baby, and her daughter ended up being taken away from her. Alice did not want to go through that, so she decided to get an abortion.
I heard when Papi found out, he beat the shit out of her, as usual. She was afraid for her life whenever she was around him. It broke my heart to hear that.
I told her she could come live with me at the condo in Liberty whenever she wanted: "Just say the word, and I'll drop everything and come get you. The one thing I ask is that you go to rehab and at least TRY living a sober life with me for a while, and see if you like it."
That was a deal breaker for her. As much as she liked being with me, because she felt safe and comfortable around me, and I treated her with love and respect, she didn't want to get clean. Not today. At some point in the future, yeah. When she's ready. But not today. Never today.
Finally she couldn't take the beatings from Papi anymore and ran away from him. But she didn't come to me. She ran back to Curly and stayed in motel rooms with him, while he pimped her out. I was so upset. I fucking hated all these God damn dope boys!
I heard that Papi was looking for Curly, because Curly stole "his" girl. I hacked Curly's phone and got his location. Then I sent an anonymous text to Papi and told him where to find Curly.
Curly and Alice were alone in the motel room together, when Papi knocked on the door. Papi was huge. Curly was tiny. He never stood a chance. As soon as he opened the door, Papi suckerpunched him. He stormed into the room and threw Curly to the ground and just started beating the shit out of him, while holding Curly's frizzy hair with one hand so that he couldn't get up or fight back.
Curly was crying for help. Alice screamed at Papi to stop or she was going to call the cops. When she picked up the phone, Papi ran off.
Hacker vs Dope Boy: Hacker wins. I wanted to beat the shit out of Curly, but I didn't even have to do it myself. I made Papi do it, and he never even knew I was using him.
Now Curly was thirsting for revenge. He had been utterly humiliated in front of "his" girl. Papi had made him scream for help like a little bitch. Curly couldn't just let that go. He needed to restore his honor.
Curly said he was going to kill Papi. He called his homies. They had guns, knifes and baseball bats. They went on a manhunt, looking for Papi. Papi didn't have a crew. He was fresh off the boat from Puerto Rico. Now he was hiding somewhere, because he didn't stand a chance alone against a bunch of armed thugs. Nobody knew where he was. So I hacked Papi's phone and sent an anonymous text to Curly and his homies, with Papi's location. Nobody ever heard from Papi again after that night.
Curly was still pissed at Alice, because he was sure that she had told Papi where she and Curly were staying, so Curly believed that whole clusterfuck had been her fault. He beat her and kicked her out. Now she had nowhere to go, and she called me and asked me if she could stay with me at the condo in Liberty.
From that point on she lived with me and she didn't escort or sleep around anymore. We stayed in Liberty, close to Middletown, because that's where her latest drug dealer, Enrique, was. Enrique was Tattoo's cousin. Somehow word got around that if I was pissed at a dope boy, bad things started happening to him. So Enrique was always very polite to me, when Alice and I stopped by his house to get her "medicine." He seemed scared of me.
By now Alice's habit had gotten worse. She could no longer get through the day on 10 bags of heroin. Now she needed 20 bags, so her habit was now $200 a day.
Drug addiction is a progressive disease. In the beginning one bag of heroin will get you high and make you feel really good. Then, after a few weeks, your body gets used to it, and shooting up just one bag won't do anything for you. So now you need to shoot up two bags at a time, to get the same effect one bag used to give you. And then, after a few more weeks, you need to shoot up three bags at a time. And so on and so forth. And the more heroin you shoot each time, the sicker you get when it starts to wear off. It's a vicious cycle.
I hated throwing away $200 a day, but I would rather do that than see Alice go back to escorting or staying with some abusive dope
boy. But every chance I got, I tried to talk her into going to rehab. But any time I brought up the topic, she'd get very defensive: "You promised you wouldn't push me to get clean if I come live with you! I'll get clean when I'm ready. But I'm not ready yet!"
It had been a long time since we had been to Hawaii together. She had told me a few months ago that Hawaii seemed so far away now, like it was all just a dream. I hoped, maybe if I refreshed her memory about how happy she was, it would encourage her to get clean. We went on a two week trip to Florida, so I could show her the condo in Bonita Springs. She smuggled 280 bags, $2800 worth of heroin, on the plane between her legs. I'm sweating bullets just thinking back about it now.
She absolutely loved Florida. It was like Hawaii, but everything was cleaner, newer. We went to the Miromar Outlet Mall, the Coconut Point Mall, Coastland, Mercato, Sanibel, Captiva, Fort Myers Beach, Barefoot Beach, 5th Avenue in Naples, the pier, Matlacha, Fort Lauderdale, Miami, South Beach, Orlando, Disney World, and a bunch of other places. She felt just as happy as she had been in Hawaii.
Going to New York Page 18
