01 – Ringing in the New Year

January 2019

Savannah is a quaint little city near the ocean that has Southern charm, old world history, meeting new world ingenuity and I never want to leave. Sure, I can see the world, and can make millions anywhere, but Savannah has my heart.

My heels click softly as I approach the pack of men lounging around their pickup trucks and motorcycles from the main entrance of Belmont Real Estate Corporation. These men are massive compared to the boys I went to college with. They are rugged, calloused, beautiful specimens of the male species that I get to enjoy daily. These blue-collared working boys are in blue jeans and tank tops with flannel shirts and ball caps.

I made sure today’s outfit is on point and that I swing my hips in perfect rhythm to my step. I hope it’s me that’s holding their full attention and not the box of donuts with thermos of hot coffee that I am bringing them.

My luscious, curly blond hair is pulled tightly into a ponytail. My sweetheart face is kissed lightly with make-up. I made sure to grab the silk blouse that is the favorite of my fiancé, Richard, along with the sleek black pencil skirt he adores. This gives way to seemed stockings accentuating my perfectly toned calves. The stiletto heels are my favorite, and give the appearance that I’m a good four inches taller than I really am.

“Mornin’ fellas,” I drawl, hoping my voice doesn’t sound too graveled from screaming my head off the night before. I offer a box of the best damn donuts this side of the Mason Dixon line along with the big thermos of fresh black coffee.

“Mornin’, Miss G,” they chorus back to me.

“Where’s Billy?” I make a point of looking around for the massive construction foreman. There is no hiding that size of a man. That’s when I hear the jaunty rock tune blaring over the dull roar of the diesel engine of Billy’s truck.

I hand off the donuts to one of the guys and wait for Billy to join us. “Hey Billy, you got a sledgehammer handy?”

Then I lean down unclasping my designer heels. A faint smile dances on my lips as I catch Billy Coeh intently pretending to not enjoy looking at my ass in this skirt. I know exactly the right amount of frills to wear, and buttons to not button, to get these good ol’ boys’ hearts pumping. The chatter amongst the guys has also fallen quiet and I blush, confirming it is in fact me, and not breakfast, they are staring at.

Billy Coeh, the head of Wolf Pack Construction, normally doesn’t give me a second glance. He’s got a beautiful wife that would very much make sure he only ever has three children should his eye wander too far. Today, though, he nearly misses my question with how much he’s paying attention to me. Then, as if snapped out of his trance, he casually strolls over to the trailer he’s hauling and opens the side door.

I smile sweetly when he looks back at me, and that smile broadens when he sets down the massive sledgehammer he grabbed to retrieve one more appropriate to my size. “Thank you,” I chirp when he hands it to me. It’s heavy in my hands and I turn it a couple of times to test the weight. Satisfied it will do the trick, I strut past the gathered pack and casually make my way to the cherry red Lamborghini parked in a buffered spot to not get a scratch on it. The license plate says everything anyone needs to know about Richard Mahoney, 6dick9.

I met Richard Mahoney in high school when my father finally allowed me to come home from boarding school. We were the all-American dream team. He was the starting quarterback, and I was the captain of the cheer squad. We reigned as prom king and queen for both Junior and Senior years. I fell madly in love with him. Even chose Stanford over Yale for him.

College is where things took a turn for the worse. Gracey, my best friend in the whole wide world, tried to warn me. From the moment I met her she disliked him, said I was too good for him. But I had on the rose-tinted glasses. Just when I thought things would be over, he would pull me back in and remind me of how much he loved me.

The biggest point of contention between us was sex. He wanted it, and I am a good God-fearing woman. His demands never ceased, and I had finally decided to give him my innocence in Paris. I spent the Summer backpacking with Gracey instead because Richard blew up at me and refused to go. I remained true the whole summer, despite Gracey’s best attempts to ply me with all the rave candy.

When we got back, he was distant and different. When he proposed, I was quite surprised. But with his proposal came more demands for affection. Something about him told me to stick to my guns and be a good Catholic girl.

Even Catholic girls fall prey to temptation, and on Christmas Day I showed up unannounced to his apartment with nothing on but a bow and a jacket.

I walked in to see Tracey, his assistant, giving him exactly the Christmas present I had in mind. She was riding his North pole like a stripper. He was surprised, but not ashamed, to see me. I felt like such a fool for believing he loved me, but love does that to a girl like me.

I grit my teeth as I stare at his car, the one true love in his life. I pull that sledgehammer up above my head like I am She-Ra, Princess of Power, and bring it down with all the might of my tiny five foot four frame. It’s quite the let-down when all I manage to do is bounce the hammer off the hood of the car.

I ignore the cries of “Oh, damn,” that come from my guys and I rear up to swing again when I feel the weight of the hammer leave my hand and Billy Coeh is standing right next to me. I stomp my foot and hold out my hand, demanding my weapon be returned to me. My cheeks flame hot when my guys laugh at the scene of Billy’s massive frame towering over me.

“Miss G, if you keep swingin’ like that, all you’re gonna do is hurt yourself.” He moves behind me.

I tense thinking he’s going to pick me up and carry me away before I attempt anymore damage.

Then he hands me the hammer and brings my left hand up the shaft, keeping the right at the base as an anchor. “Let physics do the work for ya. Just like yer givin’ a guy a hand job. One smooth stroke.” He steps back and to the side with a mirthful grin to see if I take his advice.

I turn as red as a Red Delicious apple. I had no idea how to give a hand job. Did he?

No, he’s married.

My eyes light up at how much lighter the hammer feels properly balanced between my hands. I look to him, then to the car and I let out a roaring scream.


The hammer comes down and leaves the most satisfying dent in the hood.

“How could you?! Fucking TRACEY?!” I scream at the car.


The hammer shatters a headlight.

“You fucking prick! I love you! What about MY needs?!”


Another dent spots his hood.

“I gave you everything! EVERYTHING! And you FUCKED Tracey, Carrie, and AMBER in the fucking supply closet!”

I sink to my knees, my shoulders shaking with the heart wrenching sobs I can’t control; the foolish love-sick girl wronged in the worst way. The car alarm blares loudly in protest to its mistreatment. My stomach is in knots, making me want to puke with the embarrassment of losing my temper so spectacularly.

It’s Billy’s gentle voice that permeates my meltdown, “Miss G, can’t have you kneeling on the ground like this. It ain’t lady-like. You’ll ruin your stockings and we can’t have that. It just won’t do.” His voice has a deep rumble to it.

I swear he could read me the phone book and I would melt. I laugh at his concern for my stockings, and curl to him as he scoops me up.

He puts me into the passenger seat of his pickup, treating me like I’m a porcelain doll as he also retrieves my heels and sets them on the floorboard for me. He flashes me a boyish grin as he shuts the door. “You stay right here, Miss G. We got you.”

I watch in fascination as every single one of my guys grabs an implement of destruction and leaves the cherry red Lamborghini in a smoldering pile of scrap metal wheezing out its last breath as the alarm goes silent. Not a single word transpires between the men as they then gather the breakfast I brought them, and load into their vehicles.

I rest my head against the window and notice movement on the fifth floor. The floor-to-ceiling windows are lined with the gophers, the women from the cubicles in our office that always pop their heads up for the juicy gossip. I may not see their faces, but I can see the imaginary lines being drawn between team Georgie and team Richard. Even with Billy whisking me away, I know there will be hell to pay when I get back to the office, either from Richard, or my father. Richard for the car, and my father for the scene. He hates public drama. I could use a stiff drink right about now and wonder if Gracey will want to party tonight.

Billy pulls me from my misery by reaching over and patting my knee. “Don’t worry, darlin’. You’ll be alright. You’re too good for Dick anyhow.”

Read Chapter Two >>