Cringeworthy: A Romance Goes Rogue

By Irene Woodbury

     What do you do when you discover that the man you've loved for 10 years has been secretly having an affair with a showgirl for 18 months—and he has just flown to Las Vegas to propose to her?

     You could do the ladylike thing, congratulate them, and move on graciously. You could react more compulsively by eating too much ice cream, drinking too much wine, and arranging a slew of online dates. Or you could do what Crescent Weevil, a despairing girl Friday, does:  steal $5,000 from the office safe, drive like a maniac from Michigan to Vegas, break into the showgirl's condo, kidnap your boyfriend at gunpoint, and then gag and handcuff the girlfriend to her bed.

     Can a happy ending possibly be lurking beneath all of the chaos and craziness? Find out in darkly funny Cringeworthy:  A Romance Goes Rogue.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Irene Woodbury
• Release date: Apr 24, 2024
• ISBN: 9781736967447

Irene Woodbury

     Author Irene Woodbury's vibrant, intense novels capture the heart and soul of one of her favorite cities:  Las Vegas. Whether it's romance, dark humor, drama, or unforgettable characters, these riveting reads check all the boxes.        Irene's five darkly funny novels will make you laugh, and sometimes cry, too. Her latest, Cringeworthy:  A Romance Goes Rogue (2024), is a devastating tale of epic jealousy and unrequited love. Porch Pirate Love (2022), explores the turbulent romance between a brash porch pirate and a sassy single mom-to-be. A Slot Machine Ate My Midlife Crisis (2021), is a bittersweet look at a newlywed's chaotic midlife crisis in Vegas. In Honeymoon Roulette (2021), a bride bolts after learning her handsome fiance may have killed his first two wives. Its quirky companion novella, Annie & Charlotte:  The Dead Wives of Connor J. Barrington, was also published in 2021.      Irene's dramatic novels include the gritty, engrossing Romeo Stalker (2021), which chronicles a Vegas showgirl's agonizing plunge into stalker-hell. And Love and Payback (2021) is a probing look at a married woman's mysterious death in Sin City, where she has gone to meet an Internet love.      Denver-based Irene is a successful travel writer who savors visits to London and Las Vegas. She is currently working on her next novel. Please check her out and follow her on Twitter: @IreneWoodbury.

Book preview

Also by Irene Woodbury

A Slot Machine Ate My Midlife Crisis

Romeo Stalker

Love and Payback

Honeymoon Roulette

Annie & Charlotte: The Dead Wives of

Connor J. Barrington

Porch Pirate Love

Contents

Also by Irene Woodbury

Part 1: Bunions, Babes, & Badasses

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Part 2: The Days of Tea and Crumpets, and You

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Part 3: Candida Bolts

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Part 4: Vows, Vistas, & Venom

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Part 5: Crescent Unravels

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Cringeworthy:

A Romance Goes Rogue

Part 1

Bunions, Babes, & Badasses

Chapter 1

Get out of that bed you trashy tramp—he’s mine!

Crescent’s words shattered the two AM stillness as she ripped naked showgirl Amy from her bed and flung her on the hard wood floor. In the grainy half-light, Amy’s boyfriend, Bryce, sprang up on the other side of the bed.

Crescent is that you? he blurted, squinting at the dark figure hovering before him. Leave her alone! Are you out of your goddamn mind? What are you doing here?

Leaping from the bed, Bryce flicked on the lamp and rushed to comfort Amy as she lay crumpled and shaking on the cold floor. When Crescent caught a glimpse of his nude body, the one she knew so well, flitting around the bed, her head jerked. This was her worst nightmare, what she dreaded most: seeing her old lover and Amy butt-naked in bed, with the smell of sex in the air. She suddenly felt nauseous, but that wasn’t going to stop her.

Enough of this bullshit! she railed, fueled by a fresh wave of anger. Get some clothes on, cowboy, we’re taking a road trip.

Crescent, what the fuck is this? Bryce asked, baffled and enraged as he helped a whimpering Amy off the floor, sat her on the bed, and wrapped a sheet around her.

I’m not going anywhere with you—now or ever. You have a helluva lot of nerve barging in here like this. We just got engaged tonight. Give us a break. Go back to Michigan.

Newsflash, Dude: Your engagement’s toast, and I’m the party pooper! Crescent cackled. Now suit up, lover boy, we’re outta here.

When hell freezes over, Bryce growled.

Grabbing his boxers off a nearby chair and tugging them on, he ranted, For Chrissakes, Crescent, it’s the middle of the night and we were both sound asleep. You scared the hell out of us, sneaking in here like this. Why are you in Vegas? How did you get here? Did you drive all the way from Michigan?

Yep, all by my lonesome, she shot back, through a raging snowstorm that stretched from Grand Rapids to Topeka. Talk about a postcard from the edge!

Whipping a black nylon bag off her shoulder and wrenching it open, she pulled out a silver handgun.

Enough already with the chit chat. Get moving, she ordered, pointing the gun at Bryce’s mid-section.

A gun? You’re pulling a gun on me? a stunned Bryce asked. Crescent, what the hell are you doing? Have you completely gone off the reservation? Where did you get that?

It’s my brother’s, she snapped. Shane’s a cop, you know, and taught me how to use one of these years ago. I’m a pretty good shot, too. Don’t push me.

Leaping off the bed, Amy held the sheet against her chest with one hand, while gripping Bryce’s arm with the other.

Please don’t go with her! she begged, looking up at him and shaking her head. Don’t leave me like this.

Lunging forward, Crescent ripped Amy from Bryce and tossed her on the bed. With her gun pointed at the trembling showgirl, she barked, Shut up and don’t move, you brazen hussy, you’re starting to get on my nerves.

As a dazed Amy tugged a sheet around her firm, round breasts, Crescent darted over to her. Grabbing her left hand, she glared at the diamond engagement ring Amy had been wearing for a total of seven hours.

No, no, please don’t take my ring! she wailed, as Crescent tore the two-carat rock off her finger.

Turning to Bryce and holding it up, she said smugly, Your mother always said this would be mine. This belongs on my finger, not hers. I earned this ring in 15 years of hard labor at that goddamn foot shop of yours. From eight to five every day, it was a nonstop shit show. Billing questions, post-op instructions, bloody bandages, medication issues, foot fungus, bunion busting. I worked my fuckin’ ass off six days a week, and what did she do? Give you multiple orgasms on the first date?

Don’t talk about her like that! Bryce yelled, getting in her face.

Ignoring him, Crescent shoved the ring onto her pudgy finger. Gazing down at it, a cruel smile etched her thin, beak-like lips.

Speaking of your girlfriend, she taunted, I have something special for her.

Plucking a set of handcuffs out of her purse, she headed for the blond showgirl.

What are you going to do with those? Amy cried, flailing wildly as Crescent moved closer. No, no, get away!

Rushing to Crescent, Bryce tried to stop her. But she reached for her gun and turned it on him.

Stand down, cowboy! she commanded.

If you hurt her, I’ll... he warned.

You’ll what? Crescent dared, cutting him off. Sorry, Dr. Mackey, this isn’t an operating room back in Marmot. I’m running the show here. Now put your clothes on and mind your own business.

Muttering a volley of cuss words, Bryce grabbed his clothes off a chair and got dressed. Meanwhile, Crescent seized Amy’s pale, slender wrists and cuffed them to the bed post. Spotting her I-phone on the nightstand, she snatched it, threw it on the floor, and stomped it to pieces with her boots.

Amy screamed, then started shouting, Get out, get out, you crazy-ass bitch. Leave us alone!

Potty-mouthed tramp, Crescent snarled, grabbing a washcloth off the dresser, wadding it tightly, and shoving it in the showgirl’s mouth. As Amy moaned and writhed on the bed, Crescent trained her gun on Bryce, pulling his clothes on helter skelter.

My car’s outside, she said bluntly. "We’re gonna take a road trip and spend some quality time together, just like the old days. Remember that time we drove from Michigan to Florida to visit friends in the dead of winter? Our car broke down in Tennessee, and we ended up spending a few days in Nashville while it got fixed.

Best. Week. Ever. And the same will happen here. We’re gonna work through our issues and come out of this closer than ever, bound for the altar and a lifetime of happily ever after. You and me, Bryce, it’s meant to be. Even you must know that by now. Come on, let’s go!

In his jeans, half-buttoned shirt, black leather jacket, and boots, the buff 38-year-old podiatrist turned to Amy.

Babe, I’ll be back, I promise, he vowed sadly, staring into her horrified blue eyes from across the room. She can’t get away with this. She can’t keep me with her, or force me to marry her. I’ll come back to you—soon—and we’ll be together forever.

As Amy closed her eyes and nodded, Crescent screeched, Shut your face, dreamboat, save the sweet talk for me. Now boots on the ground, let’s go.

Gripping his arm with her left hand, and the gun with her right, Crescent hustled him out of the bedroom and towards the front door. As they walked through the living room, Amy’s calico cat, Mavis, started howling.

Vile feline, hush up! Crescent hissed. She then told Bryce to pick up the animal, take it to the bedroom, and dump it on the bed with Amy. After he gently placed the cat beside his weepy fiancee’, Crescent told him to turn the light off and close the door.

With a wide-eyed, panicky Amy shaking her head, No! Bryce replied, That’s beyond cruel. I’m not doing that to her.

Pushing him aside, Crescent flicked the light off and slammed the door shut.

Evil witch, Bryce muttered. There’s a special place in hell for people like you.

With a dismissive flick of the wrist, Crescent cracked, big whoop, before adding, don’t worry about Goldilocks, she’ll be fine.

Outside in the desert darkness, the vengeful office manager led Bryce to the Subaru Outback she’d purchased in Grand Rapids just days before. Guiding him to the passenger seat, she tugged the door open, shoved him in, and grabbed a roll of yellow plastic rope and some garden shears off the backseat floor.

What the fuck? Bryce asked, glaring at her.

No worries, Crescent answered. This will make things easier for both of us. Now, put your wrists out, then your ankles. I’ll truss them like I trussed those Thanksgiving turkeys at your mom’s house all those years ago. Hurry it up, hot stuff, we need to get out of here before the sun comes up.

Crescent, you’re crazy, a disgusted Bryce said, holding out his wrists, and then his ankles. This is never going to work.

We’ll see about that, she bristled, winding the rope around multiple times and binding it tightly. Then she darted to the driver’s side and jumped in.

As the engine started, Bryce’s heart sank. Looking over his shoulder at Amy’s dark condo, he felt rage and despair at being violently wrenched from the woman he loved, and wondered if, or when, he would ever come back.

Chapter 2

As Crescent jerked the car through the dark, crowded parking lot, the desperate doctor turned to her and blurted, I’m sorry if I hurt you, but these things happen. I fell in love with her. Face the facts, Crescent. You don’t want a man who’s in love with another woman, do you? How would that ever work?

Shut your face! Crescent snapped. I’ll decide what I want and don’t want. You were the center of the universe for 10 years, and this is how you repay me? By falling for some Vegas tramp who just happened to pop in for a bunion and hammertoe combo. Did you fall for her before, or after, the anesthesia? Or was it in the recovery room?

I don’t know, I don’t know, a tormented Bryce groaned, putting his head down and shaking it.

I’m sorry, he said again. But you’ve got to move on and face reality. What can I do to make this up to you? Just tell me. I’ll double your salary, give you a fancy title, a corner office. You’ll have total control at Podiatry Posse.

Steering the dark-green Subaru down Sagebrush Lane, Crescent glared at him.

I don’t give a rat’s ass about any of that. What I want is you! she cried. Don’t you get that by now? How could you give that trashy tramp your mother’s ring? You’ve known this girl for what, 18 months, and you’re getting engaged to her with a family-heirloom that was supposed to be mine? In all the years we were together, you never proposed to me. What is this shit?

Who told you I came out here to propose to Amy? Bryce asked.

While furiously banging the old car’s heater to combat the forty-five-degree chill, Crescent replied, I ran into Tim Fowler, you know, from Fowler’s Jewelers, while I was out to lunch on Monday. He told me the ring you picked up last week, the one they cleaned and restored for you, was sparkling like new and should fit my finger fine, she explained. "He was hoping I’d be happy with it, and wished us luck with our engagement. I thanked him and said I was sure the ring would be perfect. But my jaw was on the sidewalk. Then I put two and two together and got ten.

Why, Bryce, why? she railed, throwing her hands up. Everyone in Marmot knows we were headed to the altar. And now they know it’s not gonna happen. I’ve been dumped for a younger woman, an airhead showgirl who just happened by to get her bunion fixed. How humiliating is that?

Take it easy, Crescent. It’s all going to be fine, I promise, Bryce said, trying to calm her down.

You goddamn bastard! she yelled. "My life’s a fucking shit show, and you’re telling me to calm down. You don’t give a damn about me, do you? It’s all about her, her, her!

After I ran into Tim, she went on, I went back to the office and logged onto your computer. I saw the receipts for the trips you took out here. All those times you said you were going to podiatry conventions in San Antonio and Little Rock, you were really coming out here to hook-up with the hoofer. You lied to me for 18 months, and now you want to marry her.

So you came out to stop me? Bryce asked. Just like that, you drop everything and drive from Michigan to Vegas in the middle of February? Where did you get this car? Whose is it?

Remember that $5,000 we always kept in the office safe for emergencies? Crescent asked, looking over at him. "I took it, every penny. My car’s in the shop again, and this hunk of junk’s not much of an improvement. It’s 25 years old, with 260,000 miles on it. I bought it from a used car lot in Grand Rapids. I took a bus there and spent the night at a motel. The next morning, I bought this old dumper and started driving out here.

"It took 30 hours. I’m lucky I didn’t kill myself in the ice and snow. It was colder than a witch’s tit in Topeka, and Oklahoma City was no picnic either. It didn’t help that I was driving like a maniac. I pulled over a couple times and tried to sleep, but it’s not easy in 10 degrees.

Anyway, Old Bessie’s been working fine, so far. I paid $1,000 cash. Most of the other $4,000 is on the floor in back, in Great Giant shopping bags. So what? I deserve every penny after all I’ve done for that goddamn clinic."

Staring ahead at the dense darkness of Old Mojave 98, the remote four-lane highway they’d skidded onto, Bryce conceded, "That may be true, but I think you should know, I talked to my brother back in Grand Rapids before Amy and I went to dinner tonight, and he told me you disappeared a few days ago. They’re all trying to find you.

"He asked if I knew where you were because he figured you were headed out here. He already knows you took the money. You’re one of only two people in the world with the combination to that safe, the other is me. Beau reported you to the cops. I think he knows you went off the deep end over this engagement.

"Bottom line, you’re already wanted for stealing the money, plus the gun you took from your brother’s house is the property of the Marmot Police Department. So there’s that. And now there could be armed kidnapping and assault charges. That’s quite a rap sheet you’re building. Do you really want to be a woman on the run the rest of your life?

Do yourself a favor, Crescent, turn this car around and let’s go back. You can plead guilty and I’ll help you get a deal with easy terms: probation, a fine, community service, anger management classes, whatever. Come on, turn the car around.

Shut up, Bryce, Crescent snapped. "Like I would listen to a word you say. Where am I going back to? Vegas? What’s there for me, besides your Barbie-Doll girlfriend?

I can never go back to Marmot after all this. I’d be the laughing stock of the town. Humiliated day in, day out by the staff, and the patients. They all knew we were together 10 years. They’re not stupid. And they also know I’m 36, you’re 38, and the showgirl’s 26. Do the math, Einstein. You dumped me for a younger woman. But I’m not letting you go without a fight.

Lowering her voice, she turned to him.

And don’t worry about my troubles with the law, she added. "There are off ramps for everything. You can get me off by saying we