My friend Carol invited me to this real estate-investors, social mixer? It wasn’t very social.
It was more of a Q&A session with woman, who reiterated multiple times, that she made millions rehabbing and selling houses as a real estate investor. Every now and then Carol leaned over and whispered an affirming comment
“That’s what I was saying about multiple listings.”
After the lecture I popped off to take a squirt. When I got back, Carol was swarming and socializing an almost empty room.
I saw a guy standing by himself, so I introduced myself and we talked briefly.
“I was a first sergeant and served in Afganistan. ”
I responded, “I was prior service as well. I got hurt. And that was the end of my career.”
We both laughed at my sardonic comment. I tried hard to not stare as he shook involuntarily every few minutes.
Getting out of the house was nice. I think Carol invited me mostly bc she was tired of hearing me bitch about my ex.
“I’m not bitch’n…I’m working on a method. A craft.”
“You are a cunt.”
Carol’s excitement about her new venture spilled over into some good fortune for me. She gifted me with a set of books on writing. Now that she’s focused on real estate business, she no longer has time to write her true crime novel.
As we drove back to Carol’s our conversation drifted toward our goals. I commented how all writers are alcoholics.
“Ha. Sure. I guess I’ll be seeing you in alot of AA meetings huh?”
As we drove the song Venus in Furs by the Velvets crowded my conscious.
I couldn’t wait to get home to a drink and my story.