CHAPTER 54

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          Long Island. Friday, April 6, 1990.

"Not again!" Tina groaned when she entered her living room.

Brian was unconscious and spread-eagled on her green leather couch, his mouth opened wide, drool hardened on his right cheek. His loud snoring meshed with the sound of Dan Rather, delivering the CBS Nightly News on the television set in front of him. Newspapers, magazines and numerous empty beer cans littered the coffee table surface and the floor below the couch.

She moved to the kitchen and winced at the sight of the sink, stacked beyond the brim with unclean dishes. The smell of decaying food boosted her Latin temper to critical mass. "What a pig!" she hissed. She reached into the sink and lifted as many dirty dishes as her arms could carry, then marched back to the living room. She stopped in front of Brian and dropped the dishes on the coffee table. Most of the dishes shattered with a loud crash.

"What the hell!" Brian shouted, jerking himself to an upright position, rubbing his eyes and struggling to focus on Tina.

"How can you live this way?" she screamed, lifting her arms above her head in protest. "Don't you ever clean anything?" she shouted, kicking beer cans and broken dishes in all directions. "I go out and work my ass off all day and night, and all you ever do is lie around here and live like a pig!"

Brian reached for the large pitcher of water he had left on the floor beside him. He lifted it, took a long drink, then placed it on the table. He glared at Tina with extreme contempt in his bloodshot eyes. "You broads are all the same," he said hoarsely.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're control freaks, telling me how to live my life. It means you're no different than my wife."

Further enraged by the criticism, Tina lifted Brian's pitcher and threw the remaining water in his face. "I'm not telling you how to live your life! I'm telling you how to live in this apartment! It's my place and I like to keep it clean! If you can't live that way, then get the hell out!" she yelled, continuing to kick beer cans and broken dishes in Brian's direction.

"What a bitch," he moaned, still intoxicated by the large quantity of beer he had consumed that afternoon. He hoisted himself from the couch and stepped toward Tina, crunching a beer can under his foot. "I must have been out of my mind to think you were different. What the hell is it about broads that makes them think they can control a man's life? The way I live mine is my business, not yours."

Tina bared her teeth, then slapped Brian's face as hard as she could. "Don't you dare call me a bitch! If this is the way you want to live your life, then do it somewhere else!"

"You may be a bitch, but you're still the best lay I ever had," Brian said with a malicious sneer. "How about one more time before I get out of your life? Would a blow job be out of the question?"

"Not with a pig like you," Tina snorted.

Brian's lips tightened and his eyes closed to a squint. "Thanks for the memories, bitch!" he said, then cocked his right arm and slapped Tina's face as hard as he could, the force of the blow knocking her backward but not off her feet.

With anger suppressing pain, Tina stepped forward and tried to hit Brian with her right fist, but Brian's hand caught her wrist before she could make contact. He squeezed hard. "Go take off your clothes for some other sucker," he hissed, then hurled her to the couch. He raised the middle finger of his right hand, then turned and hurried from the apartment.

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