Dog Training The American Male Read Online Free PDF Page A

because he’s an
illegal immigrant. Guy’s always smiling -- got a head full of teeth. Can’t
understand much English, but hey, with a man that can be a plus, right? Here’s
the kicker—if you marry him, me and mom get free lawn care for the next ten
years. Of course, you would too. Back in Mountain Home, we call that a perk.
Arnoldo’s got lots of perks us ladies fancy.”
    Point to your watch, mumble
something about being late and . . .
    “You ever see a lawn guy’s
fingers, Dr. Nancy? They’re thick and calloused from pulling weeds. We’re
talking breakfast-sausage-thick. Back home, we call ‘em Jimmy Deans.” Lynnie
winked. “Yeah, girlfriend, I think we’re on the same page.”
    “Okay then. Anything else?”
    “Oh yeah, The TODAY Show called.
Something about a guest appearance.”
    Nancy’s heart raced. “ The
TODAY Show ? Really?”
    “Nah, I’m just fucking with you.
But your sister called. She said it was urgent.”
    * * * *
*
     
    Nancy strode down the classroom
corridor, her blood still boiling over the receptionist’s little joke. How
can I succeed when I’m in an environment surrounded by Neanderthals? I share a
producer with three other hosts and office space with fifteen other radio
personalities, all of us trying to build a following with little to no publicity,
no budget, and a new program director who’s out to change everything around
here just to make a name for himself. We’re like a nest of newborn sea turtles,
everyone struggling to make it across the beach to open water while sea gulls
swoop down from the sky trying to eat us.
    She passed a pair of construction
workers replacing the emergency fire exit door of a lecture hall. She paused
outside the door of the Liza Minnelli suite, eavesdropping on a heated conversation
between Dr. Nell Porter and one of her patients.
    “. . . so I told the filthy son
of a bitch that if he stuck that thing in my mouth one more time I’d bite it
off and wrap it around his goddam neck!”
    “Gertrude, remember the hot flash
exercises we went over last week?”
    “Doctor Nell, how am I supposed
to take slow, deep breaths with his thing in my mouth? For Pete’s sake, it was
dripping down my chin!”
    “Gertrude, he’s your dentist. The
suction tube removes excess saliva from your mouth so you don’t have to
continuously spit.”
    Nancy felt a surge of jealousy.
Dr. Porter handled the menopause crowd. She had found her niche and her
practice—and her ratings were thriving.
    I need to find my own niche . . . something
trendy.
      Remembering Lana, she
speed dialed her sister’s number on her cell phone.
    “Hello?”
    “Lana? It’s me. What’s wrong?”
    “Nothing’s wrong. I just wanted
to make sure you were free tonight.”
    “Why?”
    “Date night, little sister. You,
me, and Jeanne are going bowling with another couple and the guy’s single
brother.”
    “A blind date? That was the
emergency?”
    “Yes, and you’re going. There’s
no pressure here. If you like him—great; if not, we’ll kick some ass and go
home.”
    “What time?”
    “Eight o’clock.”
    “Let me think about it.”
    “Nancy—”
    “I’m late for my seminar; call
you in an hour.” She hung up, mentally searching through her menu of excuses. I
started having menstrual cramps earlier this morning and you know my first day
is always the heaviest. Nah . . . she’ll know. Wait until
after five, then call and tell her the new programming guy scheduled an
after-hours meeting.
    Powering off her cell phone, she
said a quick prayer (please God, let there be standing room only inside) then
entered the Hillary Clinton suite, a small auditorium with theater-style
seating for two-hundred.
    Seated in the front row were four
women—three Sunshine Hour regulars and a newbie.
    Laticia was a mocha-skin black
woman in her late thirties. The security guard worked nights at a gated
community in Delray Beach and suffered from anger management issues