Leena looked at me with derision again. “Who’s the floozy?” she sneered.
I was seeing red and Sandy’s face was turning a similar color.
“Floozy?” I spluttered. I wanted to scratch her eyes out, but I refused to succumb to the base temptation to beat the broad senseless. Sensing an impending catfight Gerry rushed to my side.
Sandy looked at his wife sternly. “Leena that was tasteless and crass,” he admonished her, “you will apologize to Laura. How dare you defame this funeral of my dear friend Ethel by insulting this lovely girl?”
“Girl my ass,” Leena snarled, “she’s gotta be at least 35.”
If Gerry hadn’t held me back I would have bitch-slapped her into next week. Okay so I was almost 35; but that wasn’t the point.
Sandy was livid. “I apologize for my wife’s bad behavior. I had better take her out of here.”
He handed me…
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