I loaded it all into Bullitt, my 1968 Mustang Fastback 390 GT, and left out of there. I was gone in less than an hour, and calling Kat on my cellphone as soon as I was on the road.
“Hey, Mac. What’s up?” Kat answered on the second ring.
“Kat, I just got kicked out and I’m going to be served Divorce papers in the morning at Tim’s office. Maggie is ‘trading up’, at least in her mind.” I snorted, the bitterness finally showing through in my voice.
“Shit! Are you kiddin’ me?!” She sounded as shocked as I felt.
“Nope. I’ll be staying at the Holiday Inn until I can find a place.” I replied.
“Oh HELL no! You get your ass over to my place right now, mister Man!” She was ‘going ghetto’ on me, as she puts it.
“Fine! Yes, ma’am!” I chuckled in spite of myself.
“Good. See ya when I see ya.” She Ended the call, and I couldn’t help but smile and shake my head ruefully.
Katrina Monroe is my Manager at the chocolate factory. She looks quite a bit like Aisha Tyler, only a bit younger. Just as tall, though. 6 feet of Nubian goddess. We all call her Kat, and she doesn’t object. Her boyfriend, Darius Jackson, plays for the L.A. Dodgers, which made him cool in my book. He was on a road trip right now for 8 games, and would be back sometime next week.
That gave me a few nights at Kat’s place in her guestroom before he got back. Hell, Darius was cool with me, so I might be able to stay even longer.
No. I needed to find my own place. Hell, I could probably buy an affordable house outright with what I had in the bank… But then, the 50/50 split in community property hadn’t taken place yet. FUCK! Yeah, I’d have to probably rent an apartment for a while before I could afford my own house again.
My thoughts were interrupted as I realized that I was close to Kat’s place. Her boyfriend only stayed there sometimes, but he kept after Kat to move in with him down in L.A. Kat wouldn’t budge yet, though. She wanted a full-on commitment from him first. As in a ring-on-finger commitment.
So here I was, 32 years old, still in good shape, already a millionaire, but shit on and wiped out by the woman I had fallen in love with and married. My soon-to-be-ex-wife, the cheating gold digging slut.
I pulled into Kat’s driveway and parked right next to her little Ford Fusion. I swear to God, that little car cowered in fear of Bullitt. I smirked as I gave Bullitt one more gun of the engine before shutting down the big V-8.
As I opened the trunk and grabbed my suitcase, I saw Kat open the door and walk out in just some daisy dukes and tank top. I caught my breath as I took in her full breasts, straining at the tank top, her long silky legs, and her gorgeous round ass. I quickly pushed those thoughts from my head, however.
I closed the trunk and walked toward her, and Kat let me in without a word. The look on her face was one of disbelief, warring with several other emotions. I’m pretty sure I was still in shock at this point. Yes, I was in shock. It was how I was still functioning.
But no sooner had I gotten inside, but I dropped the suitcase and collapsed to my knees. The depths of what had happened finally, FINALLY sank into my shock addled brain. I had compartmentalized it as long as I could, but now it all came bursting out of my mental compartment and out of my eyes. Great wracking sobs shook my body as the tears flowed freely, and I felt two long female arms go around my shoulders as Kat knelt beside me.