Burnt Promises (Brooklyn and Bo Chronicles Book One) Second Edition

Book One

Brenda Perlin

Burnt Promises: Brooklyn and Bo Chronicles

Second Edition Book One

Published by arrangement with Blossoming Press

Copyright © 2014, 2018 by Brenda Perlin

First published in the United States of America by Master Koda Select Publishing

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Cover design by Steven Novak

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Dedicated to Ron

my one true love

Acknowledgments

My parents are with me every day. Sometimes I see them in myself, and I try not to laugh.

Sidne will always be the best girlfriend that I know. Her unconditional love has helped me through the best and worst of times.

To my editors and friends, Arlene R. O’Neil and Crystal Schall. I thank them for treating me and my stories with respect and kindness. And to MAB. My Spartan warrior princess. My gratitude is beyond words.

Also by Brenda Perlin

Alex the Mutt

Burnt Promises

Brooklyn and Bo Chronicles

Book One

Fractured Vows

Brooklyn and Bo Chronicles

Book Two

Punk Rocker

L.A. Punk Rocker

L.A. Punk Snapshots

Preface

Adulteress

I would have never had the courage or the sheer desperation to get out of my marriage had I not gotten sick. Getting sick changed everything for me. Before then, I was okay with the status quo. I don’t mean I was okay with it; I accepted it because being with my husband, Gerard, was the choice I had made, and I wasn’t looking for more radical life changes. As it was, moving to Orange County away from all of my friends and family was radical enough. It was especially difficult since I had lived in the Los Angeles area all of my life. I was used to it with the heavy traffic at all hours of the day, trash-filled streets, intense pollution, billboards covered in graffiti, and the mobs of homeless people. There was nothing unusual about all of that until I moved to a planned community an hour and a half south. That may not sound like such a big move, but for me, it felt like I was far from all that I was comfortable with. I could have been in Thailand, Germany, or some other remote location. It didn’t matter. I was out of place, stuck, and alone.

When we moved, I became isolated and lonely, but I was getting through it. It wasn’t until my illness that for the first time, I learned how fragile life was. I saw it through my parents’ illnesses, but it wasn’t the same. Nothing feels that real until it happens to you first hand.

It was then that I had to face that my life might surely be over any day. Was this the way I wanted to live the rest of my life? I doubted it, but I was not one to make any more changes if I could help it. After fighting for your life, you learn a lot about yourself and somehow, it does make you stronger. That is, if you survive. Now, I could no longer sail through life living out my days unfulfilled. I had probably needed more for a long time, but was not willing to face it. The illness became a reminder to me that we are only here for a short period of time, and if we don’t make the most out of it then we only have ourselves to blame. That was why it became easier for me to step away from my marriage and all the security that came with it.

Doing that was one of the hardest things I ever had to do. I would never forget those grueling days of still living in the house with Gerard. While he begged me to stay, shame ate at me as I listened to his words. I wasn’t sure how I was going to keep it together, but I had to.

Please, Brooklyn. I will do whatever it is that you need. I want to take care of you. I want to love you, he said while crying like I had never seen him before. He wasn’t just tearing up; he was wailing like a little baby. Not only that, he was starting to get hysterical, pacing back and forth across the living room. I know I messed up ... but I can change. I can. I love you ... I need you. Looking at me straight in the eyes as if he was pleading for his life he begged, Please ... I’m scared. I can’t do this. I need you.

Then he proceeded to whimper in my arms, holding me tightly. Even if I concentrated on blocking those words and images, they would not go away. He would plead with me until we were both crying hysterically. It was emotional and heartbreaking. That was only the beginning of more rough days to follow. I wouldn’t wish that heartache on anyone.

Gerard might have been crying over me, but my tears had more to do with the guilt that I had; the guilt that I was keeping to myself. At the time, he did not know the truth. He understood I was not happy, but I had kept him completely in the dark. For that, I am beyond guilty.

Our marriage was damaged, and, maybe, had been from the beginning, but he was still a good person, and I did love him, yet I had already moved on. Once I stepped outside the gym with Bo, my marriage would be over forever. I could not cheat the way that I had and continue to live the lie. Eventually, I would have left Gerard whether it was for Bo or not. The line was crossed, and I could not or did not want to consider staying. Even if I came home to Gerard and explained it all to him, things would never have been the same. Nor would I have wanted them to be.

In all my years of marriage, I had never done anything like this before. This was all new territory. I felt stuck, and that is why it took me so long to work up the nerve, and maybe even the audacity, to become an adulteress. It wasn’t as if I didn’t give it thought. That was all I was thinking about. I became preoccupied with preparing myself for what was coming. It was just a matter of time before I would pick up and go.

Chapter One

Home Wrecker

I hadn’t planned to be an adulteress, a cheater, or even a liar. I have told plenty of little white lies in my lifetime, but it wasn’t in me to do anything as unethical as I did. Cheating wasn’t something I even imagined myself doing. It was not in my nature and had nothing to do with my upbringing. I was raised to be a good girl, with everything that went along with it, and was taught to treat people as you wanted to be treated.

My parents were respectful individuals who never did anything against the law. Well, that is not exactly true; they both had their questionable moments. My mom had a bad habit of eating candy from the bulk bins in the grocery store as if they were free samples. She thought she could leisurely consume the treats while she strolled around, pushing her grocery cart with one hand and her freebies in the other. My dad also had a few digressions, which I witnessed on occasion. Once, I caught him changing a price tag to his advantage at Fedco, our neighborhood discount store and another time, while we were vacationing in France, I awoke to find him unscrewing the shower head in the hotel’s bathroom. He liked the water pressure so much that he actually took out the tools he had brought from home, climbed up on a chair he dragged from the bedroom, and went to work removing the nozzle. The job was not as easy as he thought it would be and all his efforts were wasted. Who brings a large amount of tools with them on a plane traveling across the ocean? I wondered as I stood there watching him take the shower apart. He ultimately realized, after he had removed it, that the piece would not work at home. That was my dad in a nutshell. He appreciated good equipment, and he definitely liked a deal.

Despite these shortcomings, my parents held themselves to a rather high moral standard. Simply put, they obeyed the law and expected everyone around them to do the same. If their son or daughter was a murderer running from the law, they would not have protected them with an overseas bank account, or changed their entire lives to help their kids. No, they would have turned them in to the authorities right away. My mother made sure I understood this when I was just a child.

It was a small crime that took place at our local Mayfair supermarket. Effortlessly, I slipped a strawberry Kool-Aid packet under my green Girl Scout sweater and took it home. When my mom found the packet, she brought me back to the grocery store to tell the manager what I had done. I was embarrassed. I will never forget that punishment, not because I was in trouble, but because I hated being disciplined and any sort of confrontation turned me speechless. To this day, I still become quiet and cry like it is the end of the world when faced with conflict.

When I left my husband after fifteen-some-odd-years of marriage for another man, my good principles went down the sewer in a matter of seconds. All it took was for me to set foot outside of the gym with this man that I had only met a few months earlier. It was then that my morals were tested, and I failed with flying colors. Everything else about my character was being questioned. I gained a terrible reputation and even gave myself the title Home Wrecker. This title I found funny because I was honest when it came to relationships. I was never a cheater, and I had never strayed. That was the job of some of my boyfriends and several of my girlfriends. While I was growing up, I discovered that many of my close girlfriends wanted what I had. I am not sure what that was all about, but it was never something I could justify doing. In my opinion, that would have been considered sloppy seconds.

I can find my own guy, thank you very much, I would have said.

I knew the sort of girl that went after married men, and that was something I would have judged harshly in the past. Plus, I am nervous enough as it is and I don’t care for that kind of high-stakes drama.

Truth be told, I honestly thought this man’s marriage was over. It had been on the rocks for a long time, and when we began talking, I got the impression the only thing that was holding up his divorce was a signed settlement. I never felt as though I was stealing someone else’s husband, and yet my story became one that could have been seen on an episode of Jerry Springer or Cheaters.

When I met Bo, I was not looking to get out of my marriage. I was, as I