First of all I’d like to apologize for taking so long to post part two of this story. I’ve been without internet access for the past ten days. Thank God it’s back on! I missed you all so much! 🙂 If you missed part one you can find it here.
After I got back home from my disaster of a trip to NYC, I got a call from the Con Artist. He tried to apologize for not picking me up and taking me back to the airport, but I wasn’t in a very forgiving mood. He said that he was hung-over and sleeping that morning and just didn’t hear the phone. Whatever, I was so over him and his bullshit.
In May 1996 I was back in my hometown living with my cousin. I was broke and looking at a very bleak future ahead of me. I had no reason nor desire to live a “normal” life at that point. I had been fired from my job as church secretary, spent five months sowing my wildest oats in Atlanta, and had lost all hope of ever being that good little preacher’s daughter ever again.
When the Con Artist called me for the first time in nearly a year and asked me to come back to NYC and stay with him, I figured what the hell. It’s not like I was doing anything else at the time. I just really wanted out of my hometown and away from everyone I knew. Even though I didn’t like him or trust him, his offer was convenient, and so I took him up on it.
I packed all of my clothes into a couple of big boxes and shipped them to his house. My cousin took me to the airport and I got on a one-way flight to NYC. The Con Artist picked me up from the airport and Continue reading