Meet Jana. She’s about to kill her husband. Not the way you and I are in this quarantine, but I mean an actual life insurance, fake-an-accident kind of way. So listen to this: Jana met Brad at a low country boil hosted by a mutual friend (an attorney who would eventually become “their” attorney). He was wearing a pastel-color button-down, casually rolled-up sleeves and top two buttons unbuttoned. Jana looked lovely and fresh in her sundress and young boobs. Brad was tanned, young, confident, and a total prick. But he was very nice to her, so his prickish behavior towards others almost felt powerful to Jana. He was and still is a property developer and was riding a wave of success that would eventually make him one of the wealthiest and most influential people in their city. They married in a huge, elaborate, society pages type of wedding but their fairytale marriage darkened quickly. Brad could not, would not stay faithful. He slowly began to become dismissive of her, ridiculing her observations and opinions, belittling her consistently, and ignoring her the rest of the time. Jana’s anger and resentment have built and built over the years, but two weeks ago she caught him sexting with the 25-year-old nanny and she snapped. This had to be the 15th affair, and that’s of the ones she knew about. His infidelity had become a very open secret among their extended circle. Humiliating. Knowing that a divorce would leave her in a bad financial position and blacklisted from most local society and that Brad would retain their top-notch attorney from that fated oyster roast long ago, Jana has decided that an “accident” is the best option. She has planned and fretted, cried, and seethed. And tomorrow night, they will take a sunset cruise on their power yacht, where she will serve him his favorite dry martini, containing a little something extra, after which he may slip and fall overboard...and leave her to start anew with Manuel (Manuel???!!) Stay tuned... Eeek exciting! Will she do it?? Can she follow through?? Who is Manuel?? WHAT WILL SHE WEAR??!
As Courtney was handed the rule pamphlet, she swore she saw the Da Vinci code. Symbols swirled around, English words became foreign and strange. She somehow now knows how to set up a VCR after reading them, but still does not quite understand how to win atMahjong.
Last week she ordered each of them one of those gadgets that shatters your car window in case of a full water immersion. She also ordered a wind up radio. You know, in case the power grid goes down. She changed the air filters in the house last month, and commented that Olive Garden is a heck of a deal if you get a family sized pan with a five dollar take-home add-on. She’s been cracking open a Bud heavy after yoga class lately, and finally decided to try out a MyPillow.
But here she sits, six years after her appointment with WIDK reporting on milk prices, beauty pageants, the occasional car theft, Alderman election scandals, and downtown green space clean up efforts. This stupid little town doesn’t deserve her. She’s meant for greatness, and she despises their perky greetings on the streets....
