Meet Manuel. JANA’S Manuel. Remember Jana from a couple of weeks ago? The last time we checked in on her, she was about to embark on a rather dark sunset cruise with her soon-to-be late husband, Brad. SIX MONTHS EARLIER: Manuel watched Jana saunter up to him at the golf club, dressed in a perfectly matching golf ensemble (purchased at the pro shop, no doubt). She was ready for her first private lesson with Manuel, the club’s new and highly reputed golf pro. He had recently moved from Newport Beach working as a pro there but nobody really knew much about his personal life. You see, Manuel is a predator of sorts. He's tall, dark and handsome looks, smooth charm and natural ease make him irresistible to society ladies. Jana was no exception. Manuel had heard about Brad’s various infidelities and knew that Jana would be ripe for the taking. Over the course of the next few months, he would groom her to see him as everything Brad was not. He would convince her that life with him could be magical in every way - except that financially they may be in a different situation than that to which she was accustomed. Oh if there were only some way for them to be together WITH Brad’s money... Naturally, Jana’s hatred for Brad, combined with her infatuation with Manuel, led her easily to the conclusion he’d been silently dangling in front of her. They eventually hatched a plan to stage an accident aboard Brad’s boat, after which Jana would collect Brad’s life insurance policy, and the two lovers would run off to Mexico (with the kids of course) and live a lavish life with private tutors, and acres on the ocean. Only what Jana doesn’t know is that Manuel might have another scheme once they get to Mexico. It does involve her money, but she won’t be in the picture for long. As he thinks through the steps of his sinister plan, he meets her eyes as his jon boat approaches her yacht, and he can make out the crumpled form of Brad on the deck at her feet. Let the games begin...
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....
