(Before I start this post, I just have to say, WHOO HOO! I figured out how to post pictures! Go me! I might just figure this blogging thing out eventually.)
It didn't surprise me at all that Richard had given her money. I'll bet he handed out Benjamins like lollipops to his broke, young whore. Richard's ability to help Jaymie financially was surely alluring. First, he got her a job. After she managed to lose that, he held tight to that rope of attraction by keeping gas in her tank, bling on her wrist and hot undies on her ass. He said it was less than a grand, but my guess is, Jaymie got an allowance. Richard had said he felt like he needed to take care of her. She was his mistress and that made her his responsibility.
Half of that bootie call cash was mine and I aimed to get it back.
Another call and another voice mail left for Jaymie. Told her I knew about all the money Richard had given her and that he had referred to the money as a loan. The loan was now past due.
I actually got a rapid text response. "I'm in class now. I'll call you when I'm through. The money was NOT a loan. He gave it to me."
Oh, fun, fun!! Struck a nerve!! I figured giving back the swag would be humiliating, but not a set back in her bank account. Repaying cold, hard, ill-gotten cash was gonna cramp her low-life style a bit. No way that unemployment check was anywhere near $1000. I could hardly contain myself waiting on her call.
"Jaymie, thanks for getting back to me. I'll be coming tomorrow morning to pick up the massage table and the bracelet. I'd like to get at least half of the money, too."
"There is no money."
"Of course there is. Richard told me he loaned you money many times. He said it was at least a $1000. Surely, you must have some of that left."
"He never loaned me money. He gave it to me."
I'll admit, Richard never did call the money a loan. He had said he helped her out from time to time. Loan was my loose interpretation of the monetary transactions.
"You're saying he just GAVE you money? Really? What does that make you? A prostitute? A cheap whore? Never mind. Rhetorical question. I know it was a loan and half of that money you took, for services rendered, is mine. I'm giving you a huge break. I'm only asking for half of the money and I'm going to get it back, even if I have to sue you for it."
"You're going to have to talk to my Dad."
I knew she was backed into a corner if she was going to her good Christian Daddy about this. She sounded like she was about to have a sob fest. Her voice was timid and shaky. I don't know if it was because I intimidated her or the thought of Richard throwing her under the bus truly caused her pain. Either way, if she was suffering, I was jubilant.
Her last words, "There is no money. It wasn't a loan. All the stuff he gave me will be in my driveway tomorrow morning."
That was that. She was done with me. I'm fairly sure I never spoke to her again, not that I didn't try, over and over and over for a year. That's when, out of desperation and immense frustration, I started this blog and found the Healing Heart.
Both of which saved my life...or at the very least, my marriage.
I was looking forward to seeing her house. I wondered if Richard had ever seen it. I had the address from the online search I did of her right after DDay. I knew it was in a lower middle class neighborhood of Spring Valley.
I texted her that I would be at her house by 9:00am tomorrow morning. Tomorrow was also the day Richard and I were going to La Costa for our over night date.
Something told me that my mood wasn't gonna be as festive or romantic as Richard was hoping.