Unbalanced Behavior: True Story of the 1-10 Bandit

By Martin Pelloquin

The book is based on a true story about the I-10 bandit who committed 26 armed bank
robberies before getting caught then sentenced to 34 and one half years where he spent the next 29 years in some of the worst federal penitentiary’s across the United States. As he describes his emotions before during and after he walks you through the line he crossed that most of us would never consider crossing. The violence he experienced in all faze’s of the federal prison system trapped in a love affair he managed to allude the FBI tossing aside a professional career all for the sole purpose to spend more time with his children after a heartbreaking divorce. His experience will shock you as he describes his feelings while committing these Robbies as well as trying to survive such a long sentence to make it home alive to his family once again.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jul 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9798823011020

Book preview

© 2023 Brent Pelloquin. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 07/14/2023

ISBN: 979-8-8230-1101-3 (sc)

ISBN: 979-8-8230-1103-7 (hc)

ISBN: 979-8-8230-1102-0 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023911779

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

1     The Start of It All

2     On My Way to the Joint

3     Moving to Biloxi

4     Meeting the Fellas

5     A Night Out on the Town

6     Atlanta Pen—The Hole

7     Here I Go Again

8     Atlanta Pen

9     A Lucky Night

10   The Big Game

11   Going Diving

12   Cheryl’s Last Visit

13   Catching a Trophy

14   A Bad Killing

15   Exposing My Past

16   Leaving Atlanta

17   A Day at the Beach

18   Getting the Job Done

19   Was That a Dream?

20   Loss of a Good Friend

21   Stuck in a Bad Space

22   A Night to Remember

23   Pulling Off the Impossible

24   The Explanation

25   The Hidden Secret

26   Flirting with Disaster

27   Living a Lie

28   Going Where No Convict Ever Goes

29   Christening the House

30   The Exchange

31   Taking Flight

32   The Pen Explodes

33   A Video Gone Bad

34   Another Trip Through Transit

35   Setting Up My Last Score

36   Texarkana Low

37   The Storm Before the Storm

38   Damaged Goods

39   Back at FBI Headquarters

40   It’s Over

Fisherman’s Prayer

God grant that I may live to fish for another shining day.

But when my final cast is made, I then most humbly pray.

When nestled in your landing net as I lay peacefully asleep.

You’ll smile at me and judge that I’m Good enough to keep.

001.jpg

After two full nights of painting, my daughter finished this amazing work of art on my dad’s coffin while he watched from above though the window of his living room. She completed the work on Father’s Day. Dad passed away shortly after on June 24, 2017. Rest his soul.

I would like to thank my parents for their continued support throughout my entire prison sentence. Your unconditional love and support and total forgiveness have kept me strong in seeing past the ugliness I’ve witnessed at all levels of the federal prison system. A special thanks to my mother. I hope your worries all these years will one day be rewarded in the greatest of your religious beliefs by the Creator Himself.

Thanks to my brother, Mark, for raising my son as his own and guiding him to be the good man and father he has become. My never-ending appreciation for your kindness; it will never be forgotten. I am forever in your debt.

Thanks to my ex-wife, Gwen, for raising my four beautiful children, teaching them the principles of kindness and respect, showing them the strength behind their religion, and guiding them to become the loving parents they are. Their independence, success, and drive are just small examples of what a great mother you are. Thank you!

Thanks to my nephews, Blake and Dane, who are always there when needed. Your loyalty toward family will be rewarded.

Special thanks to Adam, for helping to put my story on paper.

1

The Start of It All

God, it’s quiet. Only the low subtle noise of a heater fan keeps me awake. There is a cold and eerie feeling in the air, reminding me of an empty, abandoned house. It may be a figment of my imagination, or it might come from the emptiness in my soul or maybe even my heart.

I am completely lost in and engulfed by my thoughts. I am scared to death, which explains why I am shaking uncontrollably. I have been shaking this way ever since I grabbed hold of this pistol, and for some unexplained reason, I can’t seem to put this thing down. Maybe it’s fear, or maybe it’s the security within this object, but I grip it as though it is my last possession on earth and letting go would mean losing control.

It’s been three days since I slept last. I am mentally exhausted, running on fumes. How my mind continues to focus is beyond me. My heart actually hurts knowing I am going forward with this. You could say I tipped the scale.

Only three days ago, I was completely sane, running a multimillion-dollar car dealership. Now, suddenly, here I am, turning into a gangster. What in the world is wrong with my mind, my reason, my logic? It is just you and me, buddy. Just me and my thoughts.

I keep telling myself to snap out of it and just go home. But instead, I sit here paralyzed, snuggled up against the driver’s side door of this stolen truck, camouflaged in the middle of the woods on a dark and lonely dirt road in the middle of the night.

I used the whole day to prepare and make my final plans so I would know them like the back of my hand. It is one thing to be prepared and precise; to carry it out is a whole different animal. So here I am, fighting my thoughts on this lonely dirt road at four in the morning. Will I get shot? Will I get arrested? Hell, maybe both will happen. My nerves just can’t take the feeling of uncertainty.

I look at my watch over and over and just shake. I wonder how a person arrives at stealing or robbing or even murder. I’m fixin’ to find out very soon. Anything is possible when you walk into a bank with a loaded gun.

All these thoughts ramble around my head, over and over, even when I’m asleep. Then my alarm goes off. It’s go time. It’s on.

*     *     *

I came close to talking myself out of this nonsense twice, but then a truck appeared in my rear-view mirror, and the distance between us rapidly narrowed. Without hesitation, I placed the truck in drive and quickly sat up stiff against the back of the seat. Now, suddenly, I was wide awake.

Moving forward at a normal speed down the dirt road, I glanced down at my watch and saw that the time was eight fifty. I was committed, somehow, and unable to stop. I couldn’t explain the feeling if I tried.

My nervous, empty, growling stomach rumbled as I drove toward the old lady’s driveway. She lived off in the woods in an old run-down trailer home near the main highway I had been watching for the previous few days. As I turned the truck aggressively into the narrow driveway, I started blowing the horn, coming in fast and slamming on the brakes, bringing the truck to a sliding stop in the loose gravel. Quickly, I hopped out of the truck, leaving the driver’s-side door open as I ran up the weathered concrete steps to the trailer.

Frantically, the old lady jerked the door open, scared to death. Her eyes were magnified behind her thick wide-framed glasses. Her hair was high, and her head was wrapped in a tight maze of teal-green curlers. Standing before me, she clung tightly to her old, torn-up pink terry-cloth robe and matching slippers, with her arms wrapped around her body as if she were cold.

What on earth is wrong? she asked.

Could you call the police? I replied. Someone is breaking into the Ortegos’ place down the road. You know the Ortegos, right?

Mm-hmm, I’s do. Very nice people too.

Hurry, please call the police.

I’s will. I’s call ’em right now.

Turning her back, she hurried to shut the door while I returned to the truck and drove off toward the small town of Elton. If everything went according to plan, I should be seeing a few cop cars headed my way soon.

As if on cue, I saw the first police cruiser with lights flashing ahead of me in the far distance. Yes! I got excited. The old lady came through. It wasn’t long before he crossed me with a loud noise of the engine roaring by at about ninety mph. I watched him fly by me with both antennas lying down flat in his high-speed pursuit.

Up ahead, two more units turned onto the highway, gaining speed, while cars pulled over onto the shoulder to let them by. Traveling at that speed, both units crossed me back to back with their sirens blaring, headed for the Ortegos place, which was approximately seven minutes away from the bank where I was now headed.

As I reached town, the last sheriff’s car passed me, on a mission to catch up with the others. I couldn’t believe my plan was actually working. My adrenaline at this point had spiked so much.

I pulled around into the subdivision near the bank and placed the stolen truck in park. Removing my hands from the steering wheel, I noticed they were shaking. I told myself to settle down and get a grip on my nerves. My watch showed 9:01. Time to go.

I put my gloves on before gripping the pistol and looking around to make sure no one was watching before I slid the mask over my face. I couldn’t believe I was about to do this. I could feel my heartbeat accelerate along with my breathing. Then I tucked the money bag and pistol beneath the waistband of my camouflage pants and let my camo shirt hang loose over my waist so neither would be seen.

I felt myself hesitate, questioning whether or not to continue with this insane idea. And just like that, seconds later, I was out the door of the still-running truck and making a beeline for the bank doors.

I stepped onto the bank parking lot, and a strange feeling suddenly came over me. It was like stepping into another dimension. Every noise and all surrounding movement was suddenly quiet, as if I were seeing everything in slow motion. I was so focused and in tune with what I was about to do; I assume it was the adrenaline boost I was feeling.

I was so focused on the bank doors, I didn’t even notice the two men engaged in deep conversation off to my right beside a big diesel truck. And thank God they didn’t notice me. It was too late, though; there was no turning back now. I was committed.

I was just fifteen feet from the bank doors. I could feel I wasn’t myself anymore. I was just an empty vessel without any emotion.

Here goes nothing. I grabbed the door and stepped inside the bank. I must have temporarily blacked out, like I had done this in another life, because I was yelling for everyone to get down, no alarms, and no dye packs. On the floor, now.

My gun was out and pointing directly at the tellers. I saw fear on each of their faces. I didn’t even remember pulling it out. The only person standing was an older man, a customer who began to laugh at the scene taking place before him. He obviously thought this was a prank. But I repeated myself and pointed the gun in his direction.

Still he kept laughing as he took a seat on the leather sofa. Somewhere inside that small brain of his, he couldn’t accept that a small-town bank of this size would be robbed. I just shook my head. I didn’t consider him a threat at that point and walked toward the teller counter to do what I came for.

On your feet, I told the tellers. As I watched them rise, I tossed the money bag on the counter. Open the drawers and put the money inside the bag. I gave everyone explicit instructions as the bag exchanged hands and began to grow in size.

I recognized one of the tellers—an older lady who was best friends with my mother and knew me very well. This shook me up really badly, needless to say. But it was only a temporary setback, because the bank manager walked into the bank and probably pissed on himself when I spun around hard with the pistol. He hit the floor and covered his head with both hands, thinking I might shoot him.

Behind me, I glanced back at the old man, who was reading a newspaper while all this chaos was going on. He must have been certain this was some sort of joke. How else could you explain his reaction?

Then my watch alarm went off. My allotted minute and twenty seconds were up. I had to go! The bag was completely full. I grabbed it from the counter and told everyone to hit the floor and stay there.

I ran past the bank manager and hit the door, sprinting to the truck in what felt like record time. I jumped into the truck, threw it in drive, and took off, looking behind me to see if I was being followed. So far so good. No one even came out of the bank.

I exited the subdivision, crossed the main highway and then a set of railroad tracks, took the back roads leading to some empty fields in the country, and finally circled back to the road where I’d hid the previous night. It was there I stopped to remove my clothes, because I had a clear view of the main highway.

I threw the clothes over a fence into some heavy brush while watching the highway. Then I saw the four flashing lights headed back for town. This was my cue to go.

I crossed the highway and took the back roads, avoiding any main road, and hauled ass for Lafayette, getting as much distance between me and the bank as possible, as quickly as possible. All kinds of thoughts began to surface.

I feared there might be a roadblock ahead. I was already paranoid about the possibility of a chopper in the air. I told myself not to be ridiculous, and I felt myself realize that I’d gotten away clean. Excitement began to take over my emotions.

I drove and drove until my curiosity got the best of me and I started to look inside the bag. It was full of money. I couldn’t tell how much was in there, but I could feel stacks of bills banded together amongst the loose ones. Before I wrecked the truck, I closed the bag and stuffed it under the driver’s-side seat. I continued to drive the back roads until my thirst couldn’t be ignored any longer.

I stopped and bought a Coke at some old country store, then continued on until I reached Lafayette. A smile came over my face for the first time that day. I knew I was safe.

I returned the truck after wiping down the prints. I left it in a parking lot, walked to my car, and returned to the motel room I had paid for. I was exhausted and needed a shower.

I emptied the money bag and all that cash spilled out onto the bed. Six stacks of hundred-dollar bills were the last to fall out, and it was a lovely sight.

After my shower, I literally passed right out from the stress of the previous forty-eight hours. I slept on the bed right next to all the money from the bag.

When I awoke, the world was suddenly open to new opportunities. I knew I had gotten away with enough clean cash to poison my mind. I could live without boundaries for once—with the exception, of course, of my child-support payments and the needs of my children. I could be somewhat of a father again because of the free time I would have to spend with my kids.

I had no idea how much and how suddenly my life would change—not to mention where this path would ultimately lead.

*     *     *

To understand how I reached this point, I should take you back six months to where this all began. My profession—or should I say, what was left of my profession—was finance, a particularly well-paying skill in the car business. I was recently divorced, which can be hell on anyone, and here I was bogged down five months later learning how to deal with the single life again, missing my children, and worrying myself to death each night that I was not there any longer to protect them.

Meanwhile, I was in a very stressful environment managing a brand-new Toyota dealership on the west bank of greater New Orleans. I had taken this job to outrun a memory-stained past in one of the most competitive markets in the car business. Unless you’ve been in my position, you can’t possibly understand how demoralizing it is to watch a twenty-four-year-old pretend to raise your kids. All the whiskey in the world can’t wash that shit away.

My choice to move to New Orleans was quite sudden. I didn’t want to deal with the pain, and I couldn’t choke down the foul taste any longer living in the same small city. I simply separated myself from my ex-wife and her newfound love. I was two hours away, staying at the Western Hotel, paid for by my boss until I found a place of my own in the city. It was a beautiful dealership, and I was somewhat of a final piece of a strong management team put together by Scott Bone.

I was excited to work with one of the best used-car managers, known throughout the United States. I figured they were paying him extremely well to get him out of the Houston, Texas, market, where the car business was thriving at the time. He was a cocky, blue-eyed cowboy by the name of Darren Granger, and he and I hit it off from the first day we met.

We both loved the game of golf, and we were both hungry for success. On top of that, we partied just as hard as we worked. We agreed I needed to find a place to live and get settled so I could concentrate on my work. Since New Orleans was so big, I hadn’t the foggiest idea where to begin to look. But I knew somebody who lived in the city, and I just happened to have her number. She’d given me her information when we’d met at a previous dealership.

Mary Ann. How could I ever forget Mary Ann? We’d met during a precarious stage of my divorce. I was working for Courville Toyota in Opelousas, Louisiana, where my children and ex-wife were living. I closed the deal on Mary Ann’s newly purchased Land Cruiser, and we shared a very interesting conversation for an hour after her paperwork was complete. She was gorgeous, a little older than myself, and very dark-complected, with sharp facial features. She had high cheekbones and was of Italian descent.

Man, could she hold a conversation. She was a very classy woman who came from money, which was obvious by the way she dressed. She was smart, with the clean taste of humor I love in a woman. We were so caught up in conversation, I think neither of us stopped long enough to question whether we shared a sexual attraction to one another. But she did leave me her number and made it clear that I should contact her if I decided to take this new job. Her exact words were: If this ever comes to fruition, you better call me.

I took it as if I had made a good impression. So on this occasion, I dug up her number and decided to call her.

Hello, Mary Ann?

Yes, and who’s calling?

It’s Brent—remember, from Courville Toyota?

The finance man with the pretty blue eyes! How are you?

I’m great, thanks for asking.

Where are you calling from?

I’m in the city, actually. I’m calling from the Western Hotel, where I am temporarily staying at the moment.

How nice! That’s a beautiful hotel. You passing through, or did you take that job you were telling me about?

You remembered. That’s impressive!

I’m a good listener.

I did take that job, to answer your question.

Congratulations!

Thanks.

Have you found a place to live yet?

Actually, I haven’t yet, to tell you the truth. I don’t know where to begin. That’s why I’m calling. I could really use your help.

Well, I’m flattered. I would be glad to help.

Fantastic! Hey, you wouldn’t be free tonight by some chance so we could discuss this further?

I might be, if you’re buying dinner?

Dinner it is then.

On one condition: you let me chose the place.

Not a problem, as long as it doesn’t come with a dress code. I’ve been in a suit all week.

You’re good, she said. I know the owner well.

Fine, tell me what time to meet you and the location.

How’s eight?

Late. I am starving right now.

Then I’d suggest a chef salad down at the bar during happy hour at the Western. It’s delicious, and it will satisfy your hunger. So, eight o’clock, Blue Eyes. I will be waiting at the bar.

OK, you win. But would you mind telling me the name of the restaurant?

Renaldo’s. You are gonna love the food.

Let me guess: it’s Italian.

Very funny. It’s near the water in Metairie. You can’t miss it.

I’ll see you then. And we hung up.

*     *     *

It took me a while to find the restaurant, but I finally did, and ended up being ten minutes late. The place was fancy.

I spotted her as soon as I walked in. She was sitting at the bar laughing, having a drink, what looked like a martini, and was in deep conversation with the bartender.

God, she was stunning! Her brown shoulder-length hair had a tint of red as it fell gently to one side of her lavender silk dress. Her smile exploded when she turned and saw me. It was such a genuine smile, drawing me in and so easy to fall in love with. I couldn’t get over the resemblance she had to Barbara Streisand, but with a perfect nose.

Wow, don’t you look handsome! she said.

Well, you’re quite beautiful yourself. Can I get a hug?

You sure can. She slipped off the barstool and kind of trotted over to me in her high heels, holding her martini glass, and gave me a soft, gentle hug.

You smell wonderful, Mary Ann. It’s really good to see you again, I said, leaning over to kiss her cheek.

Ah. She blushed a little. Aren’t you full of compliments?

Sometimes I am.

I’m so glad you called, especially tonight, because—I am embarrassed to say—I had nothing planned but a boring night in front of the television. Come! she said, grabbing my hand. Join me at the bar for a drink before we head to our table. What are you having?

I’ll take a Crown and Seven.

Coming right up, the bartender replied.

Matter of fact, make that a double while you’re at it.

Rough day? Mary Ann asked, sitting back on her stool.

I’ve experienced worse, but today was busy! Very stressful. The Toyota market is very competitive here in New Orleans. The hours are long, since I am running the management team. How about you? How’s teaching going?

You know eighth graders. I love them and wish to pull their hair out at the same time. But it beats teaching juniors and seniors in high school. Kids are at a difficult age, and their priorities aren’t focused toward learning.

Tell me, what is a kid that age focused on?

She rolled her eyes. What else? Sex, drugs, and partying, and the city is like a buffet to kids that age. It’s all easily obtainable and accessible.

I guess we both have a difficult challenge ahead of us.

Tell me about it. How about we carry this conversation over to our table?

Is it ready?

It’s been ready.

Lead the way. And I followed Mary Ann with our drinks in hand through this fancy restaurant. I noticed the men all wearing jackets and the ladies wearing dresses. We took a seat in the very back with a gorgeous view of Lake Pontchartrain.

I leaned over and asked Mary Ann about the dress code, which I clearly wasn’t following.

Yes, there is a dress code, but I knew you were tired of wearing a suit all day at work and thought you would prefer to be comfortable. Plus, I’m close friends with the owner, and the staff knows better than to question the way my company dresses when I am dining out.

She sounded a bit spoiled and a bit gangster the way she explained it. Maybe I was just imagining something that didn’t exist.

So tell me, she asked, where would you like to live here in New Orleans?

In the heart of the city or somewhere close in the suburbs, I replied. The dealership is on the west bank. Also, since I am now single, I was thinking maybe somewhere close to Bourbon Street, because the interstate is an easy commute to my workplace.

There are some gorgeous apartments in the warehouse district right across from the Radisson Hotel in walking distance to the convention center, she said. You can take the trolley to Bourbon Street, and there’s six or seven nice restaurants within walking distance as well. They were recently redone, and there’s even a pool on the roof. I think you would love it. A friend of mine is a real estate broker who handles the leases. I can give her a call.

Why not? It sounds perfect!

How is single life treating you, by the way? she asked.

It’s not at the moment. I have been focused on my job and the well-being of my children. Divorce is really difficult.

I’ve never been married myself, so I wouldn’t know.

Really? I’m surprised for a woman of your caliber. I’d think they would be beating your door down.

Well, thank you for the compliment, but I guess I just haven’t met the right person yet.

So you aren’t in a relationship at this time?

Nope.

Interesting.

It felt like her entire demeanor changed once I said that. She was attracted to me; I could see that in her eyes as the hours passed and our conversation became more personable. She was an expensive present, one with expensive tastes and lifestyle. I could tell that she was dying for me to ask her out, but no way was I ready for another relationship. She was hardly the type to consider a night or two of fun, so I never led her on.

We left the restaurant as friends—both curious, however, as to what this could lead to one day. For now, she was just a friend helping me find a place to live.

*     *     *

Unexpectedly, the following day, I got a call from Mary Ann at the dealership. She had made me an appointment at five o’clock to view the warehouse apartments she’d spoken of the previous night.

When I showed up at the location, I was surprised to find her there alongside her friend, who gave me an apartment tour. I could not have found a better location to live, and the high ceilings and spacious accommodations the apartment offered were better than I’d imagined, with a huge pool on the third floor overlooking the city. It was perfect, and I wasted no time with my decision: I’ll take it!

I was so happy, I even offered to cook a meal for Mary Ann in appreciation for her help once the movers were finished moving my things in.

My work was my priority. We were busy six days a week, and most days I drove up at six in the morning and didn’t leave until nine thirty or ten at night. I did leave early one evening, however, to hold to my word and cook a crawfish fettuccini for Mary Ann.

She was easy on the eyes and very difficult not to pursue. I fell in love with her personality and the ease of our conversation. She was so easy to talk to.

That night, we ended our conversation with drinks out by the pool with the city in all of its noise and lights that no one could resist. The more we drank, the more I noticed we were kind of giving in to one another, knowing my bedroom was just below the floor we were on. As willing as she was, I restrained myself, knowing that if I opened this gift, there might be no turning back from a committed relationship. I somehow did what most other men wouldn’t: I just showed her the door, thanking her again, with a promise to call soon.

So I slept alone, and God only knew I didn’t want to. I tossed and turned all night regretting my decision.

*     *     *

The dealership soon started to prosper, as did the friendship between Darren and myself. Then the craziest thing happened. A major hurricane was headed straight up the Mississippi, directly in line with New Orleans, and we were all caught with our pants down with no time to prepare. The city was in a major panic. Radio and TV stations were advising the people of New Orleans to either hunker down or leave the city as soon as possible.

I sent everyone home, while the owner and I stayed to secure the dealership. After hours of preparation, we set the alarms and headed home, hopefully to return again to an undamaged dealership. It was all in God’s hands.

I’d made it as far as the Big City Bridge when I realized I’d left my wallet, my apartment keys, and my credit cards back at the dealership. In all the chaos, I couldn’t believe I forgot something so important. I turned completely around, only to find all the roads closed near the drawbridge a quarter of a mile from the dealership. Needless to say, I started to panic.

The car radio was announcing road closures beginning in and out of the city. I had already used up too much time. I was screwed.

I hauled butt to my apartment only to find absolutely no resident manager with a spare key or any other way to get in. I had no way to even get into my own home. I called everyone I knew but couldn’t reach a soul. I only had one person left to call.

Hello, Mary Ann? It’s Brent. God, am I glad you answered the phone.

Where are you?

I’m just below the city bridge and locked out of my apartment.

You’re kidding!

I wish I was. Even worse, my wallet and credit cards are locked up at the dealership. I don’t even have a change of clothes with me, and the roads are closed in and out of the city. I’m stuck.

Look, come stay here with me. I’ll find you something you can wear. Besides, I am here alone and scared to death.

Tell me where you live, and I’m on my way.

She gave me directions to her house and asked if I had any money at all on me.

I have about forty dollars.

If there’s a store open on your way, pick up some bottled water, chicken breasts, some broccoli, and Italian breadcrumbs.

Got it. See you soon, and thanks.

The winds were picking up when I arrived at her house, and I was quite surprised at how nice the place was. She definitely had money, that was for sure. When I drove up, she was outside in the rain trying to get all of her ferns in the house. She was soaking wet, and I told her to go inside so I could take care of everything on the outside.

I spent thirty minutes in the rain tying everything down. I was completely soaked and standing at her door with a bag of wet groceries in my hand, and she began laughing at my appearance.

Quit laughing and grab a towel, please.

You should see yourself in the mirror, she said.

I’m sure it’s quite a sight, but I’m freezing. You mind?

She walked away still giggling to herself.

Mary Ann, I protested, the wind is blowing fifty miles per hour, and I’m drenched. Please! Then I began to laugh myself.

I’m sorry, she said. I’ll grab you one right now. You should get out of those clothes. Then she turned and scampered down the hallway. When she returned, I was completely undressed, holding my wet clothes in front of me to conceal my nakedness.

Oh my God, you’re completely naked!

I’m very aware of that.

I didn’t … I mean, I didn’t think you’d remove everything!

Do you mind? She was busy staring, and I reached out my hand.

Oh, the towel. Here you go!

Thank you! Would you mind if I use your shower?

Not at all. It’s down the hall to the left. Please make yourself at home.

I will, thank you!

As I walked through the house, I saw that there were antiques everywhere. The bathroom was huge. There was a big sunken bathtub surrounded by mirrors, and a spacious shower with frosted glass. As I stepped inside the shower, I noticed a vibrator on a corner shelf and cracked a smile at the thought of Mary Ann using it.

The hot water was nice. Just a few minutes into my shower, though, I heard the door open. I could see her looking at me, and I smiled because of her noticeable curiosity.

I came to bring you a robe, don’t mind me. She walked up even closer, and I could still see her looking my way.

Could you grab me a towel also? I asked.

Sure. She reached into the cabinet and pulled out a big fluffy beige towel.

Thanks, Mary Ann. Here you go. I opened the shower door holding the vibrator in my hand. I don’t think I’ll need this.

Oh no! She giggled. I forgot I left that in there. How embarrassing!

I’m sure it’s very pleasing at the same time, I said with a laugh.

Asshole!

I could really use your help in here.

I bet you could, but I’m busy cooking.

You know the saying: a closed mouth never gets fed.

She just smiled back at me and told me to hurry up, and that dinner would be ready soon. It’s fixin’ to be on tonight, I thought to myself. I was about to finally open that present.

*     *     *

After I finished taking a shower, I walked toward the kitchen in the terry-cloth robe I was given while my clothes dried. The smell coming from the kitchen was incredible. I couldn’t help myself as I walked up behind her while she was tending to the stove.

Oh shit, you scared me half to death, she said as she slapped me on the arm.

I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I said as I took her in my arms and kissed her.

You smell so clean, she said.

I feel clean. And we kissed again. Here! I removed the vibrator from the pocket of my robe. I brought you this.

What are you doing with that thing? she said, immediately turning red and pulling it out of my hand.

I thought it could help tenderize the chicken.

You’re so crazy, you know that?

My Louisiana humor gets a little carried away sometimes, I apologize. Now the food, on the other hand, smells amazing.

I thought we might indulge ourselves with a glass of wine before the roof blows off.

Funny that you said that. I was thinking the same thing.

Would you do the honors?

Don’t mind if I do. I fumbled a little with the corkscrew, then I tilted back the bottle and poured two glasses of wine. Here you go, Mary Ann.

Thank you!

Bottoms up. And I raised my glass to hers, clinking them together. Remember that position later.

She almost spit out her wine and began to laugh. Are you that sure of yourself? she asked after wiping up the wine from her lips. And after a pause, Well, are you?

Then it became very quiet as our next kiss intensified. Slowly, our lips separated, and she knew my intentions.

I guess you are, she said, looking into my eyes.

If my robe comes open, pay no attention.

She looked down.

Ah ah ah! Eyes above the waist, little lady.

I wasn’t looking, she said hitting my arm.

You were when I was in the shower.

You caught me looking? I was, wasn’t I? Now I’m really embarrassed!

You are gorgeous when you blush.

Stop! She turned away shyly. Aren’t you ready to eat?

You kidding? I am starving. God, Italian woman can cook.

She served up a stir-fried chicken and broccoli dish mixed with olive oil and Italian breadcrumbs that was totally delicious. After we had put the dishes away, the lights began to flicker.

I think I am going to take a bath before the lights go off completely, she said. Make yourself comfortable in the den and light some candles in case we lose the lights.

Yes ma’am!

You Southern men. God, I love that! I’ll be right back. And then she disappeared down the hallway.

The winds were increasing as I watched the news, and the hurricane was headed straight for New Orleans. But I was tired of listening to that, so I turned on some music instead and then dimmed the lights, lit some candles, poured myself some more wine, and laid back on the sofa. I watched the trees swaying in the wind and the shadows as they danced around on the walls, setting a mysterious mood.

The wine had me feeling somber and wonderful, and then Mary Ann came back into the room. She was almost more than I could take wearing a green silk nightgown that hugged every curve of her body. It was clear she wore nothing underneath. Her hair was draped to one side with her breast protruding against the silk fabric, clearly indicating that she had the same thing in mind as I. Her intentions were written all over her face, and the more I looked at her, the more I only had her on my mind.

She made love with so much passion, I wondered how long it had been since either one of us had made love, judging by our actions. Later, we found ourselves upstairs in her bedroom after the electricity went out completely. Ask me if I cared: not one bit! We lit some candles and opened the windows, listening to the wind howling and blowing the curtains in all directions. The air was full of electro-lights, making the mood that much more erotic.

Then she removed a full-length black mink coat from the closet and laid it on the carpet next to the wall filled with mirrors.

Have you ever made love on a mink coat before?

Let me think. That would be a no, but I take it you have.

Maybe once or twice, she giggled.

For all the world, Mary Ann, I just can’t figure you out. But until I do, come here.

Then we found ourselves on the mink coat while she watched herself in the reflection of the mirror completely unashamed. We had a long night, and this little lady had stamina that outlasted the hurricane. The storm came and passed, but we were so engaged in one another that we hardly recognized the danger.

The next morning, I was awakened by Mary Ann pleasuring herself right beside me on the bed. I’ve never met such a sexual person as her in my entire life.

*     *     *

The hurricane didn’t cause much damage, and it was back to work as usual. Mary Ann and I began seeing each other quite regularly, and later we introduced a friend of hers to Darren. This cute redhead was having fun with Darren by spending all of his hard-earned money. The four of us hung out on occasion at a cool little bar near the warehouse district where I lived.

I also became more acquainted with Mary Ann’s friends—all Italian, of course. They were all wealthy people with plenty of time on their hands, driving expensive cars and living in exquisite and luxurious homes. Money was never an issue, and their lifestyle was living proof.

After meeting Frank, I started putting two and two together and realized these weren’t your usual friends and family. It became very obvious they were all connected somehow, maybe even with the mob. But wasn’t until we were invited to a birthday gathering at Frank’s multi-million-dollar mansion that our relationship became more serious. I even gave Mary Ann a key to my apartment on the way over to this elaborate leg-of-lamb supper. We were a little late, however, because I couldn’t get away from the dealership.

As we pulled up to Frank’s amazing home on Lake Pontchartrain, I was blown away by how beautiful it was. We arrived so late that everyone was already seated at the dining table, and I noticed a huge plate of the most delicious looking leg of lamb I had ever witnessed. It was calling my name, and I was starving.

Mary Ann put a finger to her lips telling me to stay quiet, because Frank was directly in the middle of telling a joke. Everyone was sitting attentive alongside their wives or girlfriends, paying close attention to the joke. Frank owned the floor at the moment, with the exception of his wife’s dog, Duke, who was frantically barking in the next room. It was so loud, in fact, that Frank had to stop and tell the dog to shut up multiple times.

Mary Ann and I just took our seats as Frank attempted to finish the joke, but the dog clearly had all intentions of messing that up. Frank stopped and yelled when his temper got the best of him: Goddammit, Duke. Shut the fuck up!

When the dog didn’t stop, Frank got up from the table and went into the next room, and shortly after we heard him say, I’m sick of that fucking dog of yours, we heard two gunshots coming from the room. Frank’s wife jumped up from the table as a few guys started laughing, while the rest of us were in complete shock. None of us could move and had no idea what to do next until Lonnie, Frank’s closest friend, said we should all go outside.

In the midst of it all, Mary Ann was trying to introduce me to a couple I hadn’t met yet and was failing miserably. We all agreed to leave, make our way to Ronaldo’s restaurant, and abandon the idea of salvaging the dysfunctional dinner that never even got off the ground. Mary Ann threw her hands up into the air, disgusted a bit and embarrassed, and we all got in our cars and left the house and the elaborate meal behind.

On the way to the restaurant, I was questioning Mary Ann’s choice of friends. We shared a laugh and just couldn’t stop for some reason. We arrived, and the place was packed that particular night. It didn’t help that we were such a large group. Neither Lonnie nor Mary Ann, with all of their pull, could persuade the staff to move us to the top of their list, so we went to the bar until a large enough table came open.

That’s when we started to drink and raise a little hell. We toasted Frank and how he had balls big enough to shoot his wife’s favorite dog, and also how we might see Duke stuffed and mounted on the wall next time we went to his home.

We were so twisted up in conversation that we hardly noticed Frank making his way toward the bar. He came in like Macho Man Randy Savage entering the wrestling ring. His suit was torn to hell, with his elbows and knees exposed and bloody, but he didn’t give a damn what people thought about his appearance.

What the hell, Frank? What happened to you?

Give me a break, Lonnie. I just walked into the fucking bar. Can I at least get a drink first before you go busting my balls?

You’re right, Frank, I’m sorry. Hey Mark, Lonnie said to the bartender.

Yeah, what can I get you, Lonnie?

Fix Frank a drink and make it quick.

Comin’ right up. You want the usual, Frank? he asked, reaching for the whiskey.

Have you ever seen me drink anything else? Frank looked pissed, and the bartender chose to remain silent.

Better make it a double, Lonnie said.

Finally, someone with some sense! Frank said as he leaned over to get his whiskey and then tilted it back to let the smooth drink slide down his throat.

Mary Ann was breaking through the crowd on her way back from the restroom and saw Frank for the first time. Jesus, Frank, look at your suit! You look like hell. What happened?

Monica and that fucking dog of hers, crying and bitching. She wouldn’t shut up, so I jumped out of the car. I couldn’t take it anymore.

While it was moving? Mary Ann looked so surprised, we all choked on our drinks. Frank just stared at her like she was crazy.

Did you kill Monica’s dog, Frank? asked Lonnie.

Enough with all the questions. I’m starving, and why haven’t any of you eaten yet?

Look at the place, Frank, it’s packed. We have been waiting for over a half hour but still no table has come available.

I’ll take care of this, he said. Everyone come with me.

Frank! Mary Ann shouted, getting his attention. "You are not going inside that restaurant looking like that."

You do understand I own this establishment, right? Just watch me!

Mary Ann just shook her head. I told her to relax and reminded her that it was his birthday, for goodness sake. I told her to let the man do what he wanted to do.

After Jimmie’s wife, Snooky, commented on how crazy Frank was, Lonnie replied that was the exact reason he loved Frank so much.

It took three weeks for Monica to get over the dog shooting incident. Still embarrassed somewhat, she invited us over once again to their lake house in Bay St. Louis, Mississippi, where she cooked the same leg-of-lamb feast. It had looked so delicious that first night, and I thought I would never get the chance to eat such a tasty meal. The whole episode about the dog was never mentioned again, being such a sore subject.

*     *     *

Life resumed, but I wouldn’t say as normal. I decided it was time to introduce Mary Ann to my family—my kids especially. I know, just what the hell was I thinking, right? Being fresh out of a divorce, my mind was all screwed up. But it turned out that my family loved her, especially my mother and grandmother. We all grew up Catholic and so did she, and that meant a lot to the women in my family.

But my kids didn’t take to her at all. She didn’t make a good impression on them, and their opinions counted the most. After that weekend barbecue, I started having second thoughts about entering a relationship with Mary Ann. She, however, was nearing her forties. This seemed to be the time she realized that it was her last opportunity to marry before the window closed.

You know what they say: pain is mostly inflicted by the tongue, and boy, did I screw that up several nights later. I slipped up and said those three words you never say unless you really mean it. It just slipped out while we were sharing an emotional moment: I love you! She sat up with such a surprised look on her face. It was as if she had just found out she won the lottery.

Everything changed after that. She bought two round-trip tickets to Kansas City without asking if I could break away from work. The intent of the trip was for me to meet her parents, and I wasn’t quite ready to meet them yet, nor could I get away from my job. She threw a fit when I broke the news, and that’s when I realized just how spoiled she was. Pissed off, she left for Kansas City without me.

I used the opportunity to free myself, and as it turns out, fate would take yet another turn.

*     *     *

It was such a relief to have a little space again, and I asked Darren if he would join me for a couple of drinks at Copeland’s Restaurant, which we frequented after work. As we sat at the bar with our drinks, the waitress delivered a platter of finger foods as an appetizer, with an onion loaf and a platter of fried crab claws as well.

Right about that time, a group of fighter pilots from the local base down the road entered the bar, making a ruckus with their green flight suits and cocky attitudes. It wasn’t our first time to share the bar with these fellows; they were regulars and always chasing after the hottest bartender in the city. Jennie was the perfect blonde, about twenty-four years old with a stunning figure and the greenest eyes you ever saw. She was just flawless—beautiful in fact.

Darren’s explanation of how hot she was and how he described it still makes me laugh to this day. I asked him why he kept embarrassing himself chasing after her but continuing to go down in flames. I received the best explanation ever. He said in his best Texas draw, It’s just like riding bulls, brother. You get bucked off a lot on the good ones, hurt and broken on the exceptionally mean ones, but there’s always this one bad sumbitch you get to ride once in a lifetime. Jennie makes it all worth it.

Watching the attention she received made me realize that she was in the wrong business. Selling cars was her future. On her looks alone, the cars she could sell was endless. The gears in my head were turning. I could put her in charge of lease vehicles dealing with corporate sales. She could make a fortune.

Immediately, I went to work convincing Jennie where she needed to be. Don’t ask me how I talked her into quitting her job and coming work for us, but she did. I hired her on the spot without the approval of my boss, Scott Bone. After meeting her, he never once questioned the spontaneity of the decision I made to bring her on. Apparently, we both shared the same vision of her long-term success in the car business.

Boy, did she sell some cars. The other salesmen never stood a chance. After receiving her very first paycheck of over $11,000, she damn near jumped into my arms, completely overcome with emotion. I had never held a perfectly ripe Georgia peach in my hands, but if I had, I would assume this was how it felt. Holding Jennie in my arms, I simply didn’t want to let her go.

You have to come out dancing with me tonight, she said.

What?

I mean it. You have to come!

Yes! I was caught so off-guard, the answer just came out.

I was so far out of this young woman’s league that I started to question if she was really into me. But I took her out and went where no man should go, especially since she and I worked together. This was the cardinal sin of all sins. You never shit where you eat.

But it was a night I will never forget either. Envious eyes all stared at the two of us on the dance floor in one of the hottest clubs in New Orleans. I could sense the lust in the hearts of all the single men watching us throughout the club.

I’m not going to lie: it felt great not expecting Jennie to share my bed later that evening, but nonetheless, I woke up to this beautiful girl lying asleep next to me, and I just took in the sight. This could be the last time to be with someone as beautiful as she was. Then who would have guessed she would end up falling for an older guy like me? But it happened. She was very much into me.

Secretly, I began seeing both her and Mary Ann, and stressing that one would find out about the other. I kept it quiet at work to avoid telling Darren about our relationship. This crazy triangle between the three of us would end up blowing up in my face.

Against my better judgment, I let Jennie stay over one Thursday night, and I woke up to a noise that sounded like a door had just opened. As I sat up in bed, my hands pressed into the mattress, I turned my head as a dog would do when trying to hear. It sounded like footsteps; no, high heels. Oh my God, Mary Ann, I thought to myself. Jennie was still lying there sound asleep, naked as a jaybird, and panic took over my thinking.

Suddenly, Mary Ann appeared in my bedroom doorway holding two glasses in her hands. She was trying to surprise me with mimosas. As it turned out, the surprise was finding Jennie asleep in my bed.

Her jaw dropped, and then I saw her expression change when her eyes narrowed and locked in on Jennie. She shouted, You bastard! and threw the drinks on both of us.

Jennie jumped up, still confused from just waking up, and yelled, What the hell? She pushed her mimosa-soaked hair aside to see what was going on. Jennie standing there naked pissed Mary Ann off even more. Jennie grabbed the sheet that was covering me to cover herself, leaving me exposed instead.

Mary Ann looked at me and said, Put some clothes on, asshole. Then, looking over at Jennie, she spat, And you, bitch, get your crap and get out.

Hold on, Mary Ann, I said. Don’t come into my place and tell my company to leave.

Throwing her hands to her hips, Mary Ann said, Your place? Now it is just your place. You are forgetting that you gave me a key."

Jennie looked my way, and now she was upset, saying, Who is this woman?

Bitch, I am not going to tell you again. Now go!

Seems to me you’re the one who needs to leave! Jennie yelled.

Then it was on! Mary Ann attacked Jennie, and the hair-pulling began. Here we all were, Jennie and Mary Ann tangled up while I tried to pull the two of them apart. It was all going really bad really fast.

The next thing I knew, Mary Ann threw her key at me, crying and saying how she came to surprise me. That was followed by a couple of fuck yous before she hit the door. Jennie looked at me with her hair matted to her face and said she was taking a shower to wash the drink out of her hair. She pointed at me and yelled for me to call her a cab.

Hold on, Jennie, a cab isn’t necessary, I pleaded.

Oh, it’s necessary, all right. You could have mentioned you were seeing someone else.

I just didn’t know what to say.

Silence isn’t gonna help you now, she said to end it.

After her shower, Jennie left in a cab, and I headed to work and had the worst day ever.

*     *     *

I hadn’t been inside the dealership fifteen minutes when Darren called from the used-car side.

I hate to wreck your morning, brother, but we just lost the big deal on the Land Cruiser.

How? I asked.

Don’t know; that is for you to figure out. The customer is on his way to return the vehicle as we speak, Darren replied.

Well, that is just great! I said, getting more upset.

One more thing, Darren added. The two trades on the Camrys are dead also.

No way, man. I have two sales pending the deals on these cars. I will never make my quota if I lose all three.

Bet your ass Scott Bone will go crazy if we don’t make quota this month.

What a bad day this is turning out to be.

You better do some serious talking to save those deals, he said before hanging up.

As hard as I tried, I couldn’t save the Land Cruiser deal, and the competition had the right color choices to change minds on our dealer trades. In the end, I lost those two sales as well. We just got outplayed by our competitor.

It was the last day of the month, and I needed a miracle to make quota. With just four hours to go, we needed to sell six more cars or I would lose all the manager’s bonuses for the month. The pressure was serious, because the owner was hanging around inside the bubble, and he had never done that before.

He pulled me aside and told me what was at stake here. After he explained how much money he was going to lose, I almost threw up. Years in this business and I never felt more pressure than what I was carrying on my shoulders that day.

In between everything else going on, neither of the women were accepting my phone calls, and the realization that I could lose everything suddenly got very real. My child-support payment was due, and I was counting on the $3,000 bonus to pay for that. So my mind started to wander and search for an alternative solution.

At about nine o’clock that night, right after our final sale, we saw that we had fallen short of our monthly goal. Disappointment was circulating amongst us all. It all pointed to the top, and I would be the one to blame in the end. We had taken in a $2,000 deposit, and as I headed to the safe with it, I had what I thought was a brilliant idea: Why not just hold on to this money instead, head to the casino, and try my luck to win enough money to make my child-support payment?

Then I thought back to the day I’d just had and decided it was a stupid idea, since my luck couldn’t get any worse. I placed the money inside an envelope, wrote the customer’s name on the front, placed it inside the safe, and spun it hard. I never thought to look to make sure the envelope dropped. I simply headed downstairs to set the alarm so