April 24, 2008

Everything's beautiful at Dr. Bud World Headquarters, right? Wrong, Friend-O.

By Dr. Bud E. Bryan

Austin, Texas. Soze, as I'm sittin' here peckin' away at my laptop, sippin' some Patron on our back deck (with my boxers, cowboy boots and AE T-shirt on, of course), you're probably all wonderin' - am I dead man, or what? But let's back up a minute first and do a recap, okay? Yes, I did have an encounter with Nadine, but I mean - dang - from my point of view it really wasn't my fault per se, seein' as I was accosted in broad daylight and all by the Austin Firecracker, aka The Bitch Who Shot Me (twice), the wildly unpredictable and endlessly fascinating Nadine. If you find runaway freight trains fascinating, that is. So, after Jolene walked passed me on her way to meet Annie Mae (Tom's wife) for lunch, I had a good three hours to decompress, as they were doing some shopping afterwards. Which was damn good, because I needed it.

Judging by the bunch of email y'all sent in to the website, most of you long-term readers got a instant headache when you saw the names "Jolene" and "Nadine" in the same column. After all, if there's such a thing as a quintessential definition of "Not Good" together - those two are it. From ugly evil eye encounters to an out and out, full-on, swingin' cat fight in the El Arroyo parking lot, these two (along with me) have been around and around and around and back again. Veteran readers know the whole story, new readers will just have to wait for the book that's coming (right, like when? - ed.) but suffice to say, it's a highly combustible mixture of two unbelievably headstrong, extremely smart, and pretty damn hot women who find each other unbelievably tedious, for different reasons, of course.

But that said, we all seemed to have reached an understanding, or at least I thought so anyway. As far as Jolene is concerned Nadine is flat crazy but ultimately harmless, because I'll never go back to the girl who damn near killed me. And in her own weird way, Jolene kind of "gets" Nadine, understands where she's comin' from and is not threatened by her in the least. Oh, Nadine pisses Jolene off plenty, but she's not concerned that anything bad is gonna happen.

As for Nadine, she thinks Jolene was a conniving little opportunist who took her man right out from under her, and she's never forgiven her for it. But in her own weird way she "gets" Jolene and kind of understands where she's comin' from too. After all, Jolene did nurse me back to health after the shooting - never once leaving my side - and Nadine respects the hell out of her for that, but at the end of the day these two aren't sharing any girlie birthday cards anytime soon, if you know what I mean.

Now since Nadine up and married Charles out of convenience, it has been a little calmer. (It's more of a business deal, actually. Even though they're both wealthy, he keeps her in the style she's accustomed, and he gets a wild-ass piece of arm candy. It works for them, what can I say?) She has been relatively on the subdued side of late, though. Oh sure, she sends me the odd email here and there, telling me about Charles and their country club life, usually bitchin' about the fact that "Charles likes three things: Business (making money), golf, and makin' sure he has the hottest girl on his arm at the club. In that order." But Nadine plays the role to the hilt when she has to, and as you might imagine she's damn good at it. She's even found a partner in crime to raise hell with at the club (another highly irreverent and sassy trophy wife), and it's all good, more or less.

I figured I was going to skate under the whole thing and it wouldn't be an issue at all. You're probably thinkin' right about now - was I being completely delusional? Did I hook up the Patron tequila IV drip again, or what? There's no way I was going to escape the wrath of Jolene, especially since I was dumb enough to actually put the most recent encounter with Nadine in my column. But here's a little tidbit I've never shared with my readers. You see, Jolene doesn't read my column. She sort of got out of the habit back when things weren't going' good (which admittedly was quite often), and besides, she warned me to keep our personal shit off the Internet because it really offended her proper Southern Belle sensibilities, from what I gather. And she didn't want to read about "that bitch" anymore either. So there.

So, knowing all this, and not hearing anything about it except from Peter - who suggested I had lost my mind for writing about it - I went to bed that night thinkin' it was all going to blow over and nothing would come of it. Nadine didn't even email (I kind of figured she wouldn't, she just likes to pull my chain and she's damn good at it), and it was cool. It was even cool a couple of mornings later, as Jolene and I enjoyed a nice breakfast and hung out talking about nothin' in particular. She was going to a charity function/luncheon with Annie at noon, and I was going to supervise some landscaping installation in the afternoon (sometimes my "Honey Do" list consists of me picking up the phone and calling in the experts). Just another perfect day down here in the Live Music Capital of the World, right?

Wrong, friend-o.

Just as the landscaping crew was pulling out, my cell phone rang.

"You son of a bitch!" Uh oh. It was my bride, and she was lights-out livid.

"What part of kissing that slut in public seemed like a good idea? And how many times have I warned you not to put that shit in your column?"

Talkin' didn't seem like the smart thing to do at that particular moment.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Are you f---in' crazy? Or just stupid?"

To make a long story short, while Annie and Jolene were at their little function, Annie asked Jolene if she had read my latest column. Since she hadn't, Annie thought it was absolutely critical at that moment in time to get it up on her Blackberry so Jolene could read it while sitting there. Helpful, right? Being the polite lady that she is, Jolene read it, didn't say a word, finished the luncheon and punched me up on her cell while she and Annie were walking to Annie's car.

Not very good. Not very good at all, as a matter of fact.

Well, Jolene screamed at me her whole ride home. And she was screamin' at me when they pulled into our driveway. And she was still screamin' at me when she stormed through our side door, too, even though I was sitting there in the kitchen with my cell on the table - on the "speaker" setting.

"How dare you humiliate me like that by putting it in your column. Something's wrong with you!"

I think that was about the 20th time she said it, but the last one had more impact in person. I attempted to say something, but given her volume and cadence all I could muster was a couple of "ums," "errs" and "ohs."

"I've had it with you, Bud."

With that she stormed back to our room and slammed the door.

Now, I don't know about you, but right then and there I figured that wherever this is going is not going to end up good, but I just had to go back to try to talk with Jolene through the door.

Big mistake.

"Aw come on, Babe. It didn't mean nothin'. You know the bitch is crazy. You know I'd never do anything with her."

"Oh yeah? 'Those eyes. Her smell. Those incredible lips.' That doesn't sound like a guy who wouldn't do anything with her. You bastard. Get the hell out of here!"

I backed away from the door, slowly, turned on my heel, grabbed my laptop out of my office (and the power cord), and went to the coffee place I always go to when I need some air. I emailed Nadine as soon as I got there and gave her a three sentence summary of what was going on. She wrote right back and said, "I'm sorry, Bud, but if you're dumb enough to write about it I guess I can't blame Jolene."

I replied "thanks a f--- of a lot" and sat there and stewed. That bitch is crazy, as if I needed to be reminded. After I was tired of the coffee shop vibe, I went over to El Arroyo and had a drink. This was bad. It wasn't my intention to blow things up between us. Not at all. I wasn't happy. As I was finishing my margarita, my phone buzzed. It was Jolene, texting me.

"Get your ass back here" was all the message said.

As I was making my way through the door she was sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for me. I didn't even have a chance to open my mouth before she started in.

"Now you listen to me, Bud, and you listen to me really good. I've told you before but this is the last time I'll say it. I will not allow that bitch to destroy us. I didn't way back when and I'm not going to allow it now, either. But here's the deal. I want her email address. And then I will take this from here."

"I don't have it," I said stupidly. (I admit, I must have taken a double-dose of stupid pills that day.)

"Oh cut the crap, Bud. Give it to me, now."

I gave it to her.

And she walked back to where her computer is, sat down, and turned it on.

This can't be good, I thought to myself.

I changed and set up camp on the back deck, which is where this column started.

Maybe there is somethin' wrong with me, as Jolene said. Or maybe I am stupid.

But, hell with it, I'm determined to ride this thing until it bucks me, and I'm gonna keep writing...


As the sun starts to get low in the horizon, I hear her tapping away in there through the open screen window.

And my only friend at this very moment is Senor Patron.


To be continued...