Bad Larry and the Divorcée

By M. Levesque

Riya’s divorce gift to herself is to adopt a dog. Bad Larry and Riya meet at an animal shelter and quickly bond over their mutual hatred of men. Riya promises the little dog that she’ll never let anything bad happen to him again, if he promises to make it hard for her to bring any men back to her apartment, in a moment of weakness.

Jaden is investigating the murder of one of Riya’s high school classmates and after a strange first encounter in a public bathroom, he asks her out. She shoots him down but he’s determined to get to know her better, despite her warnings of owning a dangerous, man-hating dog.

Riya has no choice but to let Jaden into her life when she starts getting threatening letters from the killer but are she and Bad Larry ready to give Jaden an honest shot?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evernight Publishing
• Release date: May 29, 2015
• ISBN: 9781772333725

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Published by Evernight Publishing ® at Smashwords

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2015 M. Levesque

ISBN: 978-1-77233-372-5

Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

Editor: JS Cook

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

This is for my very own soft toothed Doberman and rescue dog. Fourteen years wasn’t long enough baby girl. We miss you!

A portion of the proceeds from this novel will go to, my local no kill animal shelter. For updates on this please follow me at www.authoraddisonlockwood.wordpress.com

Thank you for reading and I hope you’ll leave a review and check out other M. Levesque titles while you’re there.

BAD LARRY AND THE DIVORCE

M. Levesque

Copyright © 2015

Chapter One

Mexican Hair Remover

This was my first official outing since the divorce. A former classmate died the week before and my class of seventy-four was holding a memorial service in our local Knights of Columbus hall.

I normally didn’t go to these things, since high school hadn’t exactly been the time of my life. I’d known very little about the guy who died, beyond one date at the movies that ended abruptly when I’d assaulted him with candy but I was sick of hiding in my run down crappy apartment just thinking about my ex-husband and his shiny new girlfriend.

To be quite honest I’m not great with death in general but I’m not really great with life either. So, unlike the majority of people going up to speak a few words about their memories of a guy very few of them really knew, I sat quietly in the back, next to my best friend from high school. I thought about the time the deceased and I went out for a movie and he behaved himself after nearly being concussed by a king sized Charleston chew. This apparently classified him as being nice, so I thought nice thoughts about David Bogs, the nice guy that I went on a date with, that one time.

I was currently sporting my favorite little black dress, which only fit again because when one gets a divorce you not only lose your dream house, half your stuff, your pride, your faith in the opposite sex and all of your couple friends, but you also lose a few pounds in the process of having your heart ripped out and set on fire.

To complete my post-divorce ensemble I was also wearing some sexy little four inch vixen pumps and my last pair of clean underwear…which weren’t really underwear as much as they were bikini bottoms. My new apartment, on the wrong side of town, didn’t have laundry, so between my work schedule and the fact that I hated the Laundry Nazi that ran the only laundromat in town…it was bikini bottoms or commando.

At least I wasn’t here alone. Pam sat beside me wiping tears from her glittering blue eyes with the corner of a designer silk scarf. I glanced over at her, dabbing daintily as not to mess her perfect makeup and was nearly blinded by the glittering stone on her ring finger. I tried not to glare at her but as the laser etched four-carat princess cut stone caught the low light of the room again it made me wonder if carrying that thing around all day would cause long term damage to her spine.

In grade school Pam and I had been equals. We’d been inseparable since kindergarten and nobody ever questioned why we were best friends until puberty hit and Pam turned into a supermodel overnight. As to whether or not this had anything to do with her perfect marriage to a rich scientist or not, that was left to be seen but they’d met in college and seemed to lead an almost magical existence together as beauty and the geek.

I squelched my jealousy. Pam was a great person, probably a better person than I was and she deserved to be happy with her husband who invented microwave bacon. She deserved to be happy living in a Malibu mansion complete with its own elevator and faux British butler.

I felt myself hunch down in my seat as the weight of my envy started to crush my inner awesomeness into a sticky paste of self-loathing.

I noticed this and straightened my spine in defiance of my own self-doubt. I was happy. Well, at least I was happier than I had been when I was married to that glorified ambulance chaser.

My life was great now… Okay, life wasn’t great but it was better than the poor guy we were remembering here today. I wasn’t even sure how he’d died and a morbid part of my brain was very curious as to how a thirty-year-old guy suddenly drops dead. This of course led to thoughts of my own mortality and the very real fact that life wasn’t forever and thus far, I’d done nothing with mine. Top off this fun fact with the current (possible medical emergency) going on between my thighs and my okay life was taking a nosedive into crappy fast enough to break the sound barrier. I needed very badly to go to the bathroom but doing so at this point in time would seem rude, and the tears streaming down my face were not for the deceased.

Sadly, I was having said emergency because of cheap Mexican hair removal products that I bought on eBay. More specifically, it may have been used on a location on my body not suggested by the manufacturer. That little red warning label wasn’t just there for decoration after all.

The twentieth girl David Bogs dated in high school was standing up to take the stage and I was starting to think nice guy was a bit of a player but more importantly, I was pretty sure my vagina was about to spontaneously combust.

The thought had me squirming in my seat. I have to go to the bathroom! I hissed in a panicked tone, grabbing Pam’s hand and nearly slicing my hand open on her wedding ring.

She met my urgent gaze and nodded once. Okay…do you want me to go with you?

I thought that was unspoken girl code anyway but instead of answering her I shot to my feet and dragged her to hers.

Everyone stopped and turned around to face us with expectant expressions on their tear-streaked faces.

I stood frozen, looking at all those faces from my past. A past I’d rather forget if given the choice.

Pam snapped to attention and flicked her wrist at them, like a monarch. Continue.

We burst into the handicap bathroom, which I noticed in passing was just as dreary as one would expect at a place like this and I immediately lifted my skirt and started scratching at the affected area. My eyes rolled back in my head and I blew out a sigh of relief as the itching/burning slowly dulled.

Are you okay? Pam’s eyes widened with concern.

I don’t know. I need you to look. I kicked off my heels and shimmied out of my bikini bottoms.

Look at what? Her eyes widened further.

My crotch! I hissed at her. I think I might have chemical burn. Just tell me how bad it is. I hopped up onto the counter between the sinks. If it’s really bad I’ll go to the hospital.

She rushed to the door and twisted the lock. I’m not drunk enough for this, Rye.

It’s two o’clock in the afternoon. Why are you even drunk at all? I lifted my feet onto the counter. You don’t have a drinking problem do you?

She snorted. I hate these things. I’m only here because of you. Plus, I’m too rich to have a drinking problem.

She had a point and who was I to judge? I was the one sitting on a bathroom sink