relationships

Ask La Flor

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Hi Sisters – I’m listening. I’m hear for you. I convinced Ray to let me have today’s blog – I’m winging and singing it. I’m fishing and dishing. I have no clue what I’m doing, but I was bored. He thinks I’m doing an advice column. I’ll give you a few tips that work for me.

First tip. Let him thinks what he wants to think, then do your own thing. Seems to work for me..

Second tip. Use his charge card. That way you don’t worry about how much you’re charging.

Third tip. You got to make him grovel. Grovel is good for your man.

Enter Ray.

“La Flor, I’m not going to put that on my blog. It’s terrible. It’s not the real you,” I said.

“Oh, I think it is, Ray. It works perfectly with LC. I’ve got him wrapped tight around my little finger.”

“You think so?” I said.

“Well, yes I do.”

“So it doesn’t bother you, that I saw him at the coffee shop with Gina Abbrighi, right?”

“Gina? What’s he doing with her? Were they holding hands? Did he pay for her drink? How close were they sitting?” said La Flor.

“I don’t know why they were together. They were looking at something together, like a calendar. LC shook his hand, then Gina pointed to a date, they laughed and fist bumped.”

“They fist bumped? Was it a hard bump or a gentle bump?” asked La Flor.

“I’d say a gentle bump.”

“Oh, Ray. I’ve been too rough on LC. I’m going to lose him. Help me save him from her. She’s no good for him. O’Leary is perfect for her.”

“It may be too late, you’ve been treating him like a dog. Making him grovel. You made him wear a tie all night. He’s on call 24/7. You’re wearing him out.”

“I only did it for his own good. Besides, I thought he liked it when I scratched his belly. He’d always kick his leg. And the tie? He was so handsome. Gina will do worse. You don’t know her reputation. We’ve got to save him. Do you have Lil Carlo’s cell number?”

Not a moment to soon – the door slams against the wall. The clang, the light go dim and return to full brightness.

“I’m in da vicinities,” hollered LC.

La Flor hollered, “We’re through. Get your stuff and get out before I call Lil Carlo and Big Carmen.”

“What I do? What I do? What I do? LC came running in slid to La Flor on his knees and wrapped his arms around her legs.

“Ray spotted you with Gina Abbrighi at the coffee shop. You two-timer. Let go of me.”

“I can splain every ting. I can. Honest I can.”

“It better be good. No, make that real good,” said La Flor.

“I promised Gina was gonna say nut tin, buts I gotta say some tin cause I can’t lose use beautiful, tough and edgy one,” LC now cradling his head against La Flor’s knees.

“Spill it,” said La Flor.

“Gina is gonna throw a surprise party for use because she says every woman looks up to use and we was figuring out the dates. It’s all set but use can’t know nut tin about it because it is a surprise.”

“Stand up, LC so I can jump in your arms. We’re back together.”

Some things never change.

 

 

 

I Like Sushi

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“Heads or tails isn’t working, Ray. Think of something that will favor me. What I have to say may be the most important thing anybody said all year,” said La Flor.

“But, most beautiful, tough, and edgy one if use knows what I have to say use would know what I has to say is what I has to say,” said LC.

“Stop. Stop. Stop. You’re both driving me nuts. Here’s the deal. One of you will go first, the other gets to choose where we eat tonight.”

“Dis is a good, very good deal. It reminds me of Big Carmen’s special two for one deal tonight on sausage pizza,” said LC.

“I like both options, it’s so hard for me to choose. I like sushi. What’s your choice LC?” said La Flor.

“I likes sushi, but I likes to eat barbecue more. Use can talk first if I can talks second,” said LC.

“You are so sweet, LC. I agree if I can talk first and I can choose your fav sushi restaurant. What could be more fair.  If you agree you will make me happy,” said La Flor.

“Use logic makes sense to me. Dis is why use is the beautiful, tough, and edgy one. I wish I thunk of it firsts,” said LC slapping his hand against the side of his head.

Dear reader, do you understand now why I have to go for long walks, meditate, and snack on chips and salsa?

“Let’s hear your problem, La Flor,” I said repeating to myself, do not roll your eyes. Do not roll your eyes.

La Flor takes a deep breath, brushes her hair back, reaches into her handbag and takes out her iPhone X. “You both have to promise me you won’t go goofy. Promise me you won’t take things into your hands and do something you’ll regret. Promise me, you’ll back me up, no matter what I decide to do.”

LC leans in toward La Flor. He swallows her tiny hand in both of his catcher’s mitts. Then he said, “I promise. I promise. I promise. I tinks I covered all three promises use mentioned beautiful, tough, and edgy star of my dreams.”

“What about you, Ray?

“I need to know what I’m promising to,” I say.

“You don’t trust me,” pouted La Flor.

She’s right. I don’t trust her. Well I do trust her to think only of herself; to be the star; to be the center of attention. I can work with this. I said, “La Flor, you know I trust you. Look at our working relationship. Look how well we get along.”

“Thank you, Ray. I’ll take that as you agreeing to everything I’ve said.”

“Huh?”

Dear Reader. I’m trying to get these two to tell you what’s bothering them. Now you have an idea of what it’s like living with them. Come by tomorrow. I have a good feeling they’ll tell us what’s bothering them.

 

 

 

That’s The Rule

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“Ray, am I right when I say there is a house rule where we can express ourselves without fear?” the snarky remark coming from La Flor.

Oh, oh. My mind races back 24 hours. There was La Flor’s incident with her mystery writer blog friend. They were wearing the same outfit. I got blamed. There was the incident with Little Carmen when he brought her the wrong Starbucks drink. I got blamed. There was the incident where Carmela and TT got a line more attention than she and Little Carmen did. I got blamed.

I decide to jump in the deep end, “That’s the rule.”

It’s not good when her arms go akimbo and she cocks her head to the left, and gestures with her right index finger. It looks like I hit the trifecta.

Her forefinger can within inches from my nose. No nose jokes please. La Flor said, “Yesterday. Yesterday. Yesterday.”

I replied, “Yes, yesterday was yesterday. Where are you going with yesterday? Do you realize it’s today and tomorrow is tomorrow.”

“I am so grateful LC is not like you. He’s sensitive. He’s smart. And, he’s secure in his own skin. Unlike some people I know whose name begins with R and means rat.”

I hold up my hand, “We have another rule, no insults, disparaging remarks.”

La Flor holds up her hand, “We have another rule to always tell the truth.”

I hold up my hand, “We have another rule, it has to be the truth and not an opinion.”

La Flor holds up her hand, “We have another rule, if the opinion is the truth then it’s okay to state an opinion.”

I hold up my hand, “We have another rule, “If the truth is going to hurt, try to say it in a way that is compassionate and kind.”

La Flor holds up her hand, “We have another rule, “If it hurts, suck it up and deal with it.”

“That’s not our rule,” I said.

“Yes, it is. LC and I voted on it this morning,” said La Flor.

“I wasn’t present for the vote.”

“You don’t have to be present if there is a quorum.”

“Were TT and Carmela present?”

“No, but I made them give me their proxies.”

“You made them?”

“Yes. I gave them an offer they couldn’t refuse.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Big Carmen and Lil Carlo.”

“They’re sweet.”

“What’s the issue you wanted to talk about?”

“What issue?”

Another stimulating conversation with La Flor that leaves me talking to myself.

 

Tony Bennett & Lady Gaga Sang For Us

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I’m sitting at the table. My yogurt, oatmeal, fruit sit in from of me. My cup of hot dark roast coffee in my hand. Everyone is sleeping. I turn on my iPad and tap the USA Today app to check the headlines. Everything is normal. Chaos in Washington. Chaos in Europe. Chaos in the Middle East. Chaos in Asia. I click on sports, the Sox beat the Yanks in the first game of a crucial three-game series. I click on local news. Two headlines grab my attention:

Thieves Hit Steinberg’s Jewelry Boutique Cleaned Out In Overnight Heist

Strange Breakin at the Museum of Rare Small Boxes

My right-hand starts shaking. I set my coffee down spilling some on the table. Will La Flor be sporting a Steinberg’s classic diamond? I enter into stage one, denial. Impossible. Big Carmen wouldn’t do this. Lil Carlo is too old to try. Little Carmen, not smart enough. I feel better. Until . . .

“Ray, Ray, Ray look at my ring?” La Flor prances into the dining room in her pajamas. Her right hand extended in front of her. I’m nearly blinded by the flashes of light given off by a ring so large I can’t see her knuckle.

“Ray, Ray, Ray look at La Flor’s ring,” said La Flor’s echo, AKA Carmela.

“Did I do good, Ray-mo?” asked Little Carmen.

“Can I get you coffee C,” said TT to Carmela.

C? TT and C?

La Flor sidled up next to me and whispered in my ear, “Don’t worry, TT is practice. He doesn’t stand a chance.”

“When did Little Carmen give you the ring?” I asked.

“You missed it. It was so romantic. I thought Carmela and TT were going to pass out.”

“Where did this happen? How did it happen? You sure it’s not hot?”

“Think like a romantic, Ray. You’re tabloid, hemorrhoid, anthropoid, and typhoid,” La Flor said with a hint of edge.

“Did you mean paranoid?”

“Toss that one in too,” she said.

“Where did you get those words?”

“We played Scrabble after our Romantic dinner.”

“Scrabble after an evening of romance?”

“It was TT’s idea. Never listen to him. He has no clue. Good thing LC made him help me so I could win,” said La Flor.

“He was playing against you. Yet, you made him help you?”

“I didn’t. LC did. We went to Carmen’s Pizzeria for our romantic date.”

“A pizzeria?”

“Yes. He closed it just for the four of us. He had a four-piece band and Tony Bennett and Lady Gaga sang for us.”

“Bennett and Gaga?”

“What’d I say? Big Carmen brings out a hot pizza with all my favorite toppings, cooked the way I like it, and a bottle of Chateau Mouton-Rothschild 1945.”

I ask Siri what that bottle of wine costs. Siri replies, “23 grand. Enjoy.”

“I’m worth every cent. On top of the pizza is a little wooden stand in the middle. On the wooden stand is a small expensive rare box that one can only find at a guarded museum that is probably worth more than everything you own. LC picks up the box. Opens it. And, gives it to me.”

“Did he ask you to marry him?”

“Details, Ray. Details. I’m a big picture woman.”

“He put this rock on my finger. You’ll have to cut my finger off to take it from me.”

I want to ask, “Did it come with a gift receipt? Did Amazon deliver it?”

“You didn’t hear the best part,” La Flor said.

“I didn’t?”

“Big Carmen comes over and gives me a hug. Then he goes and gives Tony Bennett a hug. Then he hugs Lady Gaga.”

“That’s the best part?”

“No, after he whispered something to them, Tony and Lady Gaga came over to request my autograph.”

“Huh?”

 

Anxious?

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Life isn’t supposed to be this way, even in the alt ego world. I’m not supposed to be connected to the mob. Okay, my grandmother ran numbers, that doesn’t mean anything. It was a community service. Now I’m in a pickle. I’m face to face with a 1000 pound gorilla. I’m caught between a rock and a hard place. I’m paddling upstream without a paddle. When I get anxious, I mix metaphors. I’m mixing and I’m going to continue to stir the pot. There’s no way I can shake this hook. Enough, I silently scream. I’m driving myself nuts.

It’s tough enough to muster the courage to propose. I used to chide Babe (my wife), she proposed to me. She always said no. I think someplace in heaven she’s shaking her head at me telling me I got it wrong.

How am I going to teach Little Carmen to propose? How am I going to get La Flor to accept his proposal? Big Carmen doesn’t take failure well.

I’m pacing. I’d say back and forth, but that’s only partially right. I’m circling, quadrangling, boxing, and elipticalling. My mind is like a gymnast doing floor exercises until . . .

“We’re back,” hollered La Flor from the doorway.

“We’re back,” hollered Carmela from the doorway.

“We’s back, Ray-mo,” said Little Carmen.

Okay, they’re back. All parties accounted for.

“What’s for dinner, Ray?” said La Flor.

“What’s for dinner, Ray?” said Carmela.

“Enough with the echo,” I said.

“Bad day?” asked La Flor.

“I got things on my mind I can’t discuss with you,” I said. I added, “Take my card and your protégé out for sushi. I need man time with Little Carmen. I want to talk about our fantasy football league, the season’s coming up,” I lied.

“Oh? I don’t think so,” said La Flor.

“Busted,” I said. “I want to help him get a head start on his Christmas shopping for you.”

“Good idea, but remember I was La Flor PI before I was La Flor beautiful model.” Then she added, “We need to talk before you and LC need to talk.”

“Yah!” said Carmela.

La Flor turned her gaze toward Carmela. Two ice picks darting from La Flor’s eyes had an immediate effect on her.

“I think I spoke out of turn. Can I go and shine your shoes, polish your jewelry, bath myself in the beauty of your photos that cover your wall,” begged Carmela.

“She wants to learn, Ray. But, she’s not the brightest bulb in the closet. Her escalator stopped running. Her pepperoni pizza doesn’t have any pepperoni.”

“I get it. Are you anxious?”

“How can you tell?”

“The overuse of metaphors.”

“Little Carmen, will you walk to Starbucks and get us our usual afternoon caffeinated drinks?”

“Does I gots to walk?”

“It’ll be good for your love handles,” I said. He doesn’t have any on his chiseled body, which is the primary animal attraction for La Flor.

“I don’t feel any handles. Use thinks they could be knobs or something I don’t know nothing about?”

“I do,” I said.

“Thanks, Ray-mo. Be back in a jiff. Is it jiff or jif or jiffy? I gets confused.”

“Jiff is fine.”

“Tanks.”

The moment Little Carmen left, La Flor flung her arms around me. She buried her head into my chest, “I too young to die, Ray. Please, please help me,” she pleaded.

“You’re not dying,” I reassured her.

“If I marry him, I will. I read your blog. Please convince him I’m not worthy of him. Feed him Carmela. Put out a contract on him. Anything. I beg you.”

What am I going to do?

I Am Nice

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“I’m not happy, Ray,” pouted La Flor.

“What’s your problem. You’re going on vacation with me. Your two puppies are coming along and they don’t have to be in cages. Why are unhappy?” I said. I know the answer, I’ll let La Flor do the honors.

La Flor gestured with her finger, “Why are you TSA approved and I am not? There’s a mistake. I don’t want to stand in the long line. I don’t want to take off my shoes. Anybody tries to pat me down, I’ll have LC smack them.”

“You don’t want to do that. It is not a good idea. He may get ten to twenty. Be nice or they won’t let you go to the gate,” I said.

“I am nice. That’s the point, Ray. Do I have to put my expensive, Italian leather handbag through the metal detector? I have important things in my handbag like my iPhone. My lip gloss. My concealer. My mascara. My moisturizer. Need I continue? They’ll ruin it. I’ll sue. I promise I’ll sue everyone who works at the airport.”

“Everyone?”

“Everyone. Even the retirees.”

The girl will not take no for an answer. I’ve got to admire her gumption.

I turned from La Flor to Little Carmen, “Is that a gold chain almost hidden by your chest hairs?”

“Un huh. I don’t believes in shaving my chest.”

“You’ll need to take off the gold chain, the gold bracelet, the expensive watch, and please button up your shirt, no one wants to see waving fields of black hair. Be like TT, he already has his shoes off. his belt is off and he has his plastic baggies with toiletries ready to go.”

“Look, Ray. See my sides. Uncle Guido game me the bracelet. Aunt Josephine gave me the gold chain.”

“What about the expensive watch?”

“Cousin Carl found it. Use know finders keepers. And, don’t asks where he found it. And also, if use thinks I’m taking these off for these TAS guys, use got another three guesses coming.”

“You tell him, LC,” said La Flor encouraging LC.

“It’s TSA. I’m ready to get in the pre approved line. If you guys make it through security, our plane to Vegas is at gate 11.”

“What do you mean, if? Can’t you write it in that we’re through security without a hitch and TSA said I was the most beautiful, tough, and edgy woman to ever go through?” said La Flor.

“No. Look, TT is in line. He has his boarding pass in his hand. He has his ID out. Looks like he’ll be going with me.”

“He is such a suck up,” said La Flor.

“Yah. And I could say other things abouts him, but I don’t want to offense anybody I already offended, if use knows what I mean,” said Little Carmen.

I got in the TSA approved line. I kept an eye on La Flor and Little Carmen. I wasn’t sure how the TSA blog writer was going to handle these two going through security. I wanted to holler a warning when I saw La Flor grab hold of Little Carmen’s hand and pull him out of line and walk around the security maze TSA uses to see who is intelligent enough to get to the screening area. It’s not going to be pretty.

TT is waiting for me when I pass through the metal detector. I go to the conveyer belt and wait for my suitcase and backpack. I hear my name,

“Ray, Ray hurry up, we’ll miss our flight. I need coffee. I need a snack,” shouted La Flor.

“Yah, the beautiful, tough, and edgy woman with friends every place needs use to hurry,” said Little Carmen.

I grabbed my backpack and took hold of my luggage and walked over to La Flor and Little Carmen. “How did you manage to get through security? You cut the line.”

“And, we didn’t take off our jewelry. We didn’t get scanned. We got through before you and you were pre approved,” La Flor said smugly.

“But how?”

“The beautiful, tough, and edgy woman is personal friends with the TSA blog writers girlfriend,” said Little Carmen.

“So, I made a call and told Emily that I was going to friend her if she encouraged her boyfriend to do me a tiny favor,” said La Flor.

“Just because you’re going to friend her?”

“I don’t give friending away easily. You have to do something for me,” said La Flor. Then she turned her attention to TT, “TT do you want to be my friend and do you want me to be your friend?”

A high pitched voice said, “Uh huh.”

“Good decision. TT, you can carry my carry on. Be careful with it, I have my extended beauty center in there. LC, you can get me my fav Starbucks drink and tell them who they’re making it for. Ray, you can walk with me to the gate and find me a seat where I won’t be near screaming kids. One other thing, Ray.

“What’s that, La Flor?” I was almost too afraid to ask.

“What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.”

How does she get away with it? It’s a mystery.

 

 

 

Is My Mascara Running?

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I sat at the breakfast bar working on a blueberry, banana smoothie. I’m reading a recipe for bean burritos on Pinterest (do I really need to read a recipe on how to make a bean burrito? I’ve got to get a life), I overheard La Flor and her proteges talking. My interest is piqued.

“We are here for you, TT. LC and I are going to help you write your profile on altegomatches.com. You’ll have all the almost as hot as me babes wanting to meet you,” said La Flor.

‘Really? Really? Really, La Flor. Will I finally get a date? Will I meet someone as nice and beautiful and tough and edgy as you?” said TT with a hint of hope in his voice. In case you’re interested, he may be a permanent soprano.

“No. Not possible,” said La Flor.

“I’m not going to get a date?”

“We’ll get you a date, but she won’t be anything like me. She will be self-centered, thinks everyone should cater to her needs, and demands constant attention.”

I wondered for a brief moment if La Flor was speaking about an identical twin.

“I founds their probiotics, beautiful, tough, and edgy idol of men and women,” said Little Carmen (he meant profile).

La Flor relished the mention of idol of men and women. What’s the first question, LC?”

“Use don’t have to answer trutfully, TT, nobody does. If use answer truthfully nobody believes you because everybody twits da trute,” said Little Carmen.

La Flor read the first question, “What is your most attractive feature? We’ll have to lie, TT, you don’t have any.”

TT said, “I think I do. I’m smart. Is that attractive?”

“Heavens no. None of the women that are right for you want someone who is smart. They want someone who is rich.”

“But, but, but, my card is maxed out. I only have thirty-five cents left on my Starbucks app. What will I say?”

“I has an idea, beautiful, tough, and edgy idol of men and women. May I speak it?”

“You have a way with words, LC. What is it?” said La Flor.

“We says TT is going to inherit a million dollars as soon as he takes his rich uncle off life support, which should be in a week,” beamed Little Carmen.

“Huh? I don’t have a rich uncle. I’d never take him off life support if I did,” said TT.

“We’re making it up as we go, TT. The same way Ray writes his blogs. Brilliant, LC. Next question, TT, ‘What are you looking for in the ideal date?'” said La Flor.

“Someone nice. Someone who is kind. Someone who likes to walk in nature and look at sunsets,” said TT.

La Flor and Little Carmen started laughing hysterically. Little Carmen was banging his fist on the table. La Flor said, “Is my mascara running. I can’t stop laughing. Tears are running down my precious cheeks.”

TT said, “Did I say something wrong?”

La Flor back in control of her emotions, said, “The woman you described is only on the old movies channel. Get real, TT. Here’s what you’re looking for. Don’t tell me. I’ll tell you, “Looking for a cougar who wants to meet a young muscular guy with great hair, and veneers.”

“I, I don’t want a live pet,” shrieked TT.

“You really need to think veneers. Maybe Rogaine. LC, we are doing charitable work with TT,” said La Flor.

“What if they want to date me? What will I do?” said TT. He had a hand on his left eye to stop a twitch. His hives were breaking out.

“We’ll cross that T when we comes to a fork in the road,” said Little Carmen.

I honestly think Little Carmen needs help. I’m not sure what kind, but he needs it, pronto.

La Flor said, “Here’s the next question, “What do you like to do.”

“I like to read and watch PBS? This won’t work, will it?” asked TT.

“Use is catching on,” said Little Carmen. He added, “Let’s say he likes to gamble. He’s a bad boy. He rides a motorcycle without a helmet. He likes to get tats on any piece of skin that doesn’t have a tat. And, he says to live is to party.”

“I got it, LC. Word for word. He’ll have the bad babes begging for a date,” said La Flor.

“But, I’m not any of those,” said TT. His body one complete rash.

“Now for your photo,” said La Flor. She turned to Little Carmen, “Pull a few good photos off Google we can add to his profile, LC.”

“Check these three out.” said Little Carmen.

La Flor looks at the photos. “I like this one. This one. and this one. What do you think, TT?”

“You’re putting a photo of a muscular black man. Dr. Oz. And, my former boss, Dr. Phil? on my profile?”

“Does use think he passed out or is taking a nap, wise woman who is also beautiful tough, and edgy?”

“Hard to tell, just in case it’s a nap, let’s not wake him.”

 

We Belong On TV

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La Flor, who’s on again with Little Carmen, had the stray puppy follow her throughout one of San Antonio’s outdoor mecca shopping malls. Little Carmen had to enthusiastically like everything La Flor liked. He was the designated bag carrier. And, according to her set of ground rules he signed, he can’t complain. He only can flirt with her.

As for me, I found an Italian trattoria, had a very tasty leisurely lunch, and after lunch, I did this and that, which I will not divulge because La Flor reads these blogs and counts the number of times she is mentioned. If I divulge this and that, she will know this and that and I will have no getaway places. If La Flor does not have the highest name mentioned count, all hell breaks loose, the bleep hits the fan, and the familiar saying, ‘You haven’t heard the last of this’ is repeatedly repeated.

I returned home around three thirty. I walked into the living room and froze. I wasn’t ready for what I saw. La Flor and Little Carmen sat in swivel chairs, about a foot and half apart. That’s not what stopped me.

They are staring at a camera on a tripod. Operating the camera is Thompson Thomas. He’s the Dr. Phil alt ego who looks like a pencil, receding hairline, has a high-pitched voice. It wasn’t always high pitched. It started sometime after Little Carmen found out he was gaga over La Flor. Little Carmen persuaded him, after a bit of twisting and turning and his voice rising with each twist to let go of his fixation on La Flor. I found this unusual, but not out of the ordinary as far as La Flor is concerned.

I looked at La Flor, frozen in my tracks and said, “What are you doing in a sports bra and bikini bottom? Do you have a sand volleyball game in your future? And, what is Little Carmen doing bare-chested in a bathing suit next to you? He looks like a wooly mammoth.”

“Is that a good look?” asked Little Carmen.

La Flor nodded her head, and said, “We are so adorable and cute, right, Ray?”

“Remember, this is a family blog,” I said.

“We belong on TV. I have a new career and LC is going to the top with me.”

“That’s right, Ray-mo. The beautiful, tough, and edgy sportscaster said, I’m a hanger-goner.”

“Sportscaster? Hanger-goner?”

“You called Little Carmen a hanger-goner?”

“That’s right, Ray. I have high standards. He misses making one compliment to me, he’s a goner.”

“I got to agree with the beautiful, tough, and edgy sportscaster. How’d I do?”

“Perfecto, LC.”

“I gots to learn, Spanish,” said Little Carmen.

“How many TV sportscasters look as good as LC and me? Don’t answer. The answer is obvious. Zero, zero, zero,” La Flor said, making a zero with the thumb and forefinger of each hand, then looking at Little Carmen until he made the third zero.

“How is this going to happen? How will you be discovered?” I said.

“We will be discovered. TT is filming our demo. He’s going to send it to all his contacts. Dr. Phil for one. Dr. Oz for two. And, he knows Bobby Filet. He quit Dr. Phil to work exclusively with us.”

“I think it’s Bobby Flay.”

“No, it’s Filet,” she said.

“I turned to TT, “You did?”

“Uh huh. La Flor promised to set me up with one of her hot girlfriends. She only has hot girlfriends.”

“Let it go, Ray. TT you ready to record our demo?” said La Flor.

“Yes, beautiful, tough, and edgy sportscaster,” said the soprano voiced TT.

“TT not to worry about the voice, it returns to normal in a day or three,” said Little Carmen.

“Thanks, LC. Ready, three, two, one, action,” squeaked TT.

“Welcome to the world’s hottest and cutest sportscasters,” said La Flor.

“Yah, welcome. Check out how beautiful the beautiful, tough, and edgy sportscaster looks today. Can I say you looks more beautiful than you did ten minutes ago?”

La Flor does a half turn, gives Little Carmen a big smile, “You may.”

“You looks more beautiful than you did ten minutes ago.”

La Flor turns back toward the camera, “Here is breaking sports news.”

“Yes, breaking news,” said Little Carmen.

“I am going to the spa tomorrow and getting a seaweed wrap, facial, and massage.”

“That’s terrific beautiful, tough, and edgy sportscaster. Can I gives some breaking news?”

“We only have time for one quick item, LC. Make it a good one.”

“Okay. Breaking news. Tonight’s special at Carmen’s Pizzeria is a double topping of Uncle Gino’s homemade sausage. Use gets a large for eighteen ninety-five and if use says LC sent use, use gets it for five ninety-five.”

“What do you think, Ray? Awesome, right? We’ll probably be leaving here as soon as the sports networks see the demo.”

“You going to take TT with you?”

“Please take me,” squeaked TT.

Only After He Crawls Back

by

Twenty-four hours later, the max for La Flor’s attention span. I can forget about her wanting to use the blog for whistleblowing. Besides, who’s she going to blow the whistle on, Dr. Phil’s alt ego? Her mystery writer friend? Big Carmen? I decided to write a reflection on the meaning of life. . . .

“Ray, Ray, Ray! You promised I could be the whistleblower today. You promised. You promised. You know what happens to people when they break their promises to me?”

“No, what?”

“I won’t let you forget it, ever. I mean longer than ever. I mean I will remind you when you wake up. I will remind you every five minutes. I will remind you when you go to bed. I will keep saying it over and over while you sleep.”

“Won’t you get tired of reminding me?” I asked.

“Never.”

The beautiful, tough, and edgy whistleblower knows how to get her way. I said, “It’s all yours, La Flor. Try not to make it too long. WordPress has a thing against long whistleblowing blogs.” Okay, I admit I wasn’t telling the truth about WordPress. Don’t tell her, por favor. I’m only trying to help you.

La Flor sat in front of the laptop. She said, “I’m all over this like perfect eyebrows on me. Like perfect pouty lips on me. Like the way I fit into the edgiest of clothes.”

“I get the point,” I said. I began to silently pray.

“Will I bother you if I speak aloud while I’m writing? It helps my creative spirit.”

“What you’re writing is all true? You’re not creating anything, are you?” I asked. A bit timidity in my voice.

“Every word. Make sure all the doors and windows are locked. Turn your smartphone off. I want no interruptions, especially from you know who.”

“Your mystery writer friend? Dr. Phil’s alt ego?”

“No. No. No. LC.”

La Flor turned her attention to the blog. She began writing her whistleblower piece, “Your so vain, LC. You probably think this post is about you. Don’t you. Don’t You. Well, I hear you went to Vegas. You played craps and naturally, won. Then you flew up to Chicago to see how deep dish pizza is done. Then, you strolled into my party like you’re walking on air. You had one eye on your smartphone, the other on the girls wanting to be your partner. Your so vain, LC. You probably think this post is about you. Don’t you. Don’t you.”

“Stop. Stop. You’re plagiarizing,” I shouted.

La Flor turned to me, “No, I’m not. I got permission from Carly Simon’s alt ego after I told her all about LC flirting with two of my competitors. I’m blowing the whistle on that two timing, sweet talking, hunk of muscle, and all man.”

“It sounds like you’re talking your way back to him,” I said.

“Only after he crawls back to me on all fours and begs me to take him back,” said La Flor.

“Then you’ll take him back?” I asked.

“No, I just want him to crawl back. Besides, I’ve got another guy.”

“You do? Who is he? Where did you meet him?” I asked.

“I don’t have trouble getting guys. They’re always hitting on me. It’s a curse I have to live with since I’m beautiful, tough, and edgy.”

“Somebody has to do it,” I said.

“I decided to go with brains over looks and muscle.”

“You’re using him, right?” I said.

“How did you know?” asked La Flor.

“Just a feeling. Do you think it’s fair?” I asked.

“Yes. Next question,” said La Flor getting ready to hit the publish button.

“Do you think Little Carmen will be jealous?”

“That’s the point, Ray. What planet do you live on?”

“Will Little Carmen confront your new faux boyfriend?” I said, think La Flor’s game might be dangerous for the unwitting guy who fell for her.

“All I can do is hope.”

“Why?”

“Survival of the fittest, Ray.”

“Is it Dr. Phil’s script writer? The skinny, geeky looking guy who’s very shy?”

“Perfect choice, don’t you think? You forgot to mention, receding hairline, and has the shape of a pencil.”

“A lamb being led to the slaughter,” I said.

“I like to think of it as the most meaningful thing he’ll ever do in his life.”

“La Flor don’t hit the publish button.”

“Too late.”

 

 

Tell Me They’re Zirconium

by

I’m putting the finishing touches on my blog. I’m quite taken with my brilliance. My ability to twist facts into fiction. My complete understanding of human nature and its nuances, until . . .

“Ray! Ray! Ray!” The voice. The blaring, unceasing tonal demand. The refusal to take no for an answer. To cop a phrase, “She’s more beautiful than a runway model. She’s tougher than a tank of barracudas. She’s edgy enough to pull off any look. It’s La Flor.

“What’s up?” La Flor. I said softly and calmly. I watched a PBS special where I learned speaking softly and calmly works wonders on others.

“Whatever you’re doing, stop. Stop! Stop!” she shouted. So much for soft and quiet.

“Do you mean what am I doing now? Or, do you mean what was I doing?” I’m learning with La Flor. I want to get this right. If I don’t, we’ll carry on for four or five paragraphs.

“Tell me it’s not too late. See, I used too correctly. Please, tell me I’m not too late,” La Flor is pleading with me.

“Too late for what? Dinner? Coffee? Desert? Your favorite reality show? Give me a little help,” I said.

“If only LC were here. He would have reached you on time. I can’t run as fast as LC when I’m wearing stilettos.”

I looked at her feet, “Nice stilettos, how much they set you back?”

“Nothing, I used your card.”

“How much did it set me back?” I asked.

“Not as much as my earrings. Like them,” she said placing her palms behind her ears and pushing the lobs a bit forward.

“Tell me they’re zirconium.”

“Seriously, do you think La Flor is going to wear zirconium?”

Opps, back to speaking in the third person. What am I going to do? Get upset over it. Not a chance. I’ll report the card stolen, I thought.

“And, don’t you dare report the card stolen or lost,” she said.

What is she a mind reader?

“I’m listening to mind reading podcasts, and it seems to be working.”

I needed to change the topic, “Is this an emergency?” I asked.

“Of the first, second, and third order. Maybe the fourth, fifth and sixth orders. Maybe a takeout order,” she said.

Remember, I’m a sensitive guy. At least in my own mind. “Sit down La Flor. I’ll get you a glass of water.”

“Something stronger, por favor.”

“Diet Coke?”

“What I would give for a sensitive male,” she hollered.

“That’s me,” I said.

“Get real,” La Flor answered.

What choice did I have? I brought La Flor a glass of white wine and handed it to her. She took a sip. “Where did you buy this? What did you pay, a dollar seventy-five?”

“Hold on. It was on sale for three ninety-eight.”

She set the wine glass down, reached into her expensive leather, made in Italy, handbag, pulled out a tin of breath mints and took at least a half dozen out and chewed them as if she hadn’t tasted food for six weeks. “I’ll never lose the taste. If you ruined my wine tasting buds, I’ll, I’ll ….”

I finished her sentence, “Tell Ray about the emergency.”

Fortunately, La Flor’s attention span is a tad better than mine, that’s not saying much. She said, “Did you publish the blog?”

“As soon as we’re done I’m going to publish it.”

“I’m in time. Hold it. Keep it in draft. Save it for a slow day. Give it away.”

“Why?”

“I’m turning whistleblower,” she said.

“Whistleblower?” I am happy Little Carmen has to deliver pizzas today. I can only imagine what he would have done with the word whistleblower.

“I’m going to tear down walls. I going to bring the big shots down. I’m going to be famous. Maybe I’ll win a Pulitzer Piñata.”

I knew it was too good to last. The doorbell rang.

“Get it, Ray. It’ll be LC. I asked him to bring me an iced skinny latte while on his pizza deliveries.”

I didn’t have to answer the door. “Hey use guys, I gots your skinny, ninny, latte beautiful, tough, and edgy make me drool all over myself. BT, I can never remember the last letter. Anyways, I made this pie all by myself except for the dough, sauce, cheese, and toppings. Oh, I think it was S.”

“S? No, it’s W,” I said.

“What’s W?” a confused Little Carmen said.

“A letter. BTW, we didn’t order a pizza,” I said.

“It’s okay. It’s already paid for. The guy paid by credit card. I think use got it wrong, Ray-Mo. It’s BTS.”

“He won’t get his pizza,” I said.

“Not if he wants this one,” Little Carmen laughed.

La Flor stared at Little Carmen with a cross between a sense of awe and awful. I couldn’t quite make it out. She said, “Come over here and keep me company LC. Don’t talk while I’m talking. Did you know Ray gave me cheap wine?”

Little Carmen had a look of horror on his face, “Ray-mo. Cheap wine. You gotta nerve.”

La Flor put her forefinger to Little Carmen’s lips, “That’s enough, have a piece of pie and play with your smartphone. Ray, where was I?”

I wanted to say ‘the fourth level of insanity but didn’t. “So,” I said, “You are going to be a whistleblower.”

“Is that like those guys with the striped shirts at the football games?” said Little Carmen.

“LC!”

“Sorry, beautiful, tough, and edgy whistleblower.”

Come back tomorrow for the whistleblower’s story.

 

 

 

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