Flogging Molly. Dropkick Murphys. Enter The Haggis. Young Dubliners.
Just some of my favorite Celtic Rock Bands. I got this idea when my wife and I were at a concert in Morganton, N.C., listening to my favorite local Celtic Rock band, Uncle Hamish and The Hooligans. It was three years ago, so I don't know if they're still playing. If they are, look them up, maybe you'll become part of the Kilted Horde.
And thanks to the fortyish man in the camo kilt and the attractive young black woman in the short dress with him who sat beside us during the concert. They were obviously in love, and it made me feel good watching them. The main characters are patterned after them.
This is the first of three parts, in case you want to wait until they're all posted before you start.
This is for the girl in the black bikini.
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She got me good.
She had obviously been planning it for a while, and had gotten lots of advice. I truly never saw it coming.
Her timing was perfect. I had just completed twenty years with my company, had gotten a bonus of one months' pay, plus my regular two-week paycheck. The next day she cleaned out all the accounts, had me served, claimed I was abusive and had a restraining order in place. She had her lover moved in the next day.
To make it worse, he worked where I did as a supervisor in a different department. He grinned at me the next day and it took three people to 'persuade' me to keep it away from work.
It hadn't been love at first sight with Kim. She was one of those women who had been told they were pretty all their life, and had begun to believe her press. She was arrogant, egotistical and racist. We grew up and lived just outside Raleigh, North Carolina, and though she expected to live well, she had no clear plan on how to achieve it.
I met her at the company picnic. My boss was a bit of an odd duck, and invited many of his business associates as a mild thank you. His picnics were famous for their food and door prizes, and were very well attended. Kim worked for his accounting firm as a secretary and general helper. Her dad had called in a favor to get her the job. She actually had to take some courses at the community college before she was offered a permanent position. She wasn't happy, expecting her life to be different.
People ate, and socialized, and generally had a good time, waiting for the prizes. Vendors had donated some, but he looked at projected attendance and bought enough prizes to ensure everyone would win something.
The four top prizes, the ones that would go last, were a twenty four bottle wine cooler in stainless steel with a glass front, a really nice gas grill, a day at a full service day spa for two, and a thousand dollars, cash.
People groaned at their prizes while their friends laughed, then laughed when they got something just as goofy. Many of the small prizes were selected with the laughter value in mind. As the small prizes disappeared, and the prizes got bigger, the laughter stopped.
It came down to me, Kim, a black girl named Sophie, and a guy from our legal firm.
The lawyer won the trip to the spa, and Kim won the gas grill.
She really wanted the wine cooler, and was complaining loudly. It was obvious she had made several trips to the free bar.
Sophie won the wine cooler, and that meant I won the thousand. As I was picking up the envelope I could hear Kim.
"What's a nig..." was all she got out before her friend stamped on her foot.
"Ow! That hurt! But seriously, does she look like a wine drinker? Mad Dog, maybe. Everything else would be lost on her."
People were staring and Sophie looked like she wanted to disappear. I knew her, knew she lived with her mom and her two small kids. No husband, no child support, money was tight.
I walked up and hugged her.
"Congratulations, Sophie. If you ever want to sell it, I'll give you five hundred for it."
She grinned instantly, grabbed my hand and shook it.
"Deal!"
I handed her five of the hundred dollar bills. Turning to the lawyer, I offered him two hundred for the spa trip. He laughed.
"My wife has a standing appointment there, so it wouldn't be a thrill for her. It really is a nice place, but I think she would like the money better."
His wife was standing beside him. Her prize had been a dozen golf balls.
"Deal!" she said. "I'll donate this money in his name to the literacy council we help sponsor. I'll even give you the golf balls as a thank you. But truthfully, you don't look like a spa type to me."
"Oh, I'm not. But I have a friend who could use a little pampering." I turned and handed the certificate to Sophie.
"Here. You deserve this. Take your mother; I'm sure she'd enjoy it. I'll even watch your kids if you need me to."
Sophie was crying, and she and her mom gave me several nice hugs. I looked over at Kim.
"Ah, Miss Morris still want the cooler? I don't need it, I have the twelve bottle model at home. If you want to trade, I don't have a gas grill."
She looked hard at me.
"You've shamed me, sir, something hard to accomplish. I accept your kind offer, IF you invite me over for a meal. I'll even bring the wine."
She sounded sincere, so I accepted. She also congratulated Sophie, wishing her a pleasant trip to the spa.
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She came over, and complimented my cooking after we'd enjoyed a good meal. We drank one bottle of the wine she brought. I showed her my wines, and she was amazed at the volume.
"I got hooked on wine while I lived in Europe. Spent time in France, Germany, Portugal, and Italy touring the wine regions. A few of these bottles are from vineyards I had actually visited."
"How long did you live overseas? What part did you live in while were you there? I've never been out of the country; I'm so jealous."
I had loved living there, had quite a few fond memories, and some unpleasant ones.
"I lived in Scotland and England for three and a half years while I was in service. I took advantage of leave time to visit as many places as I could."
I didn't elaborate, and she changed the subject.
It was nice enough spending time with her that I asked her out. She accepted, and the rest, as they say, was history. We married. I hinted around about children, but she said she couldn't bear children. I concentrated on her, spoiling her.
The sad thing about spoiling someone is that if you do it long enough they become rotten.
A fact that occurred to me while I read the divorce papers.
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I was reeling, not making good decisions. It got worse, all three of our vehicles were in her name, because I was always working and she had time to do the paperwork, and she threatened to have me arrested if I didn't give my truck to her. She was pushing hard for me to sign some papers, telling me she would see I was treated fairly, that I would get what she called a 'good deal' if I just let the divorce go through on her terms.
I finally recovered enough to get a lawyer. I had a good friend, a lot older, that helped me out of my funk.
"Snap out of it boy. She fucked you over pretty good. Now, are you gonna roll over like a good little bitch, or are you gonna finally remember you got a set of balls?"
I was coming out of my shock. Up until it happened I loved her deeply. Now I couldn't wait to burn the bitch to the ground. I told him so.
"Good" he said, handing me a card. "Three o'clock Monday. Don't be late."
I looked at the card. Donovan, Harris, and McGill. THE divorce lawyers in this part of the state. Maggie McGill, the woman seeing me was supposedly a shark walking on two legs.
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I showed up on time; and was ushered into a nice office, impressive with understated elegance. It said money with taste.
She was not what I was expecting. A third generation lawyer, granddaughter of one of the founders, she was twenty nine, tall, slender, with blue eyes and red hair that harkened to her heritage.
"Pleased to meet you, Mr. MacLough, I just wish we had met under more pleasant circumstances. Uncle Will speaks highly of you, and he doesn't do that for many people."
Well, that explained how I happened to be here. She asked me to tell her the whole story before we planned our response.
"It was a surprise. We weren't fighting, had a good social life. No kids, I guess now that was a good thing. We made love as often as we always did. She was never a bitch, never cut me off, never insulted me more than is normal in a marriage. We fussed, but nothing major. Five years, shot to hell."
She looked at me.
"Your wife must have been a hell of an actress. When did she have time to cheat? I see by your job that you don't take business trips. She works too, doesn't she?"
"Yes, she's a secretary at an accounting firm. Been there for years. We had to have two incomes to afford the house she wanted. I work ten hour shifts, so she's alone about three hours in the afternoons. Plus I work on my hobby business Fridays, but I'm usually home by five. She has a girls night out on Thursdays, but she is usually home by ten. I bowl in a league during the winter, usually Mondays and Wednesdays. I'm home by nine thirty. Not a big window of opportunity, although her lover works an eight hour shift."
She sighed.
"You'd be surprised. Unfortunately, I've seen it all. If they want too, spouses will always find a way. If you don't suspect anything, they can almost do it in front of you and you wouldn't notice."
I looked at her hand, noticing what can only be described as a rock on her finger. She saw me look and smiled.
"Yes, I'm married. Four years now. My last name is actually Stewart; I only use my maiden name in court, because of the family connection. Believe it or not, he's a family law specialist too. He's a firm believer in arbitration, and I love courtroom battles, the drama and intrigue. Between us, we've faced about every situation you could imagine, so we know all the pitfalls. Plus, we have an ironclad prenuptual, it would be very, very expensive and embarrassing to divorce, if you're the cheater. And we never take our work home."
