Ralphie's Wives
If life is a waste of time, and time is a waste of life, then let's all get wasted together and have the time of our lives.
—from The Prairie Queen's Guide to Life, by Goddess Jacks
AT THREE IN THE AFTERNOON on her thirtieth birthday, Phoebe Jacks stood behind the bar wearing strappy sandals with four-inch heels and a black sundress printed with roses. She was polishing a beer glass. Phoebe found polishing the glassware calming, and she needed a calming activity right then. Her ex-husband, Ralphie Styles, had screwed her over royal-ly—from the grave, no less.
Oh, yeah, she thought, blowing a coil of dark hair out of her eyes, happy birthday to me.
"And what I want to know is, who the hell is Rio Navarro?" Cimarron Rose Bertucci, one of Phoebe's two best friends since birth—and Ralphie's second wife—pounded the old oak bar with her fist. She did it hard enough that the jumbo margarita in front of her bounced. Luckily, Rose's drink was half-empty, so not a drop was spilled.
Phoebe set down the freshly polished glass. Ralphie had mentioned Navarro's name now and then, in passing, over the years. "Some old fr ... read full excerpt from: Ralphie's Wives ebook
