PROLOGUE

EARLY EERILY TWILIGHT...

ONCE AGAIN, I found myself standing at the railing on the back deck of our house...beyond which and below lies the Mississippi River.

I have always loved this spot, up on a bluff just south of Old Kentucky Highway where it crosses the river on one of those big old iron bridges the area is famous for plus a new concrete one only about a year old.

The embankments are steep along this part of the river and it is especially beautiful. Densely wooded and all of us goofies in the gang of loonies that Rose aptly named THE REDNECK MAFIA some time back and it stuck, have built our homes up here.

We hail from all over everywhere and here is where we wound up...
we and this bunch of multi-million-dollar homes all along the riverfront, channel-front and lakefront. 

Yep and it is where I want to end my days. Just not quite yet, thank you very much.
(I chuckled to myself).

It was mid-July and sultry. As usual a storm was brewing off to the west and headed toward us. I figured I had a while before it got here and was eventually proved right. 

Almost stupefyingly HUMID. Course it usually is at this time of year in SE Missouri, but when you got a storm brewing it is methinks REQUIRED to be MOIST and moist I was.

FACE-DRIPPY MOIST. Put some seed on me and I could double as dewy early morning lawn.

The sky was darkening rapidly and lights were coming on both across the river and on the boats on the river. 

Peaceful even through the turbulent air caused by the impending storm, but...yes. Peaceful.

I LOVE this time of day. There is usually a bit of a lull in the boat traffic and the horns subside. 

Fortunately we here in the compound are over 2 1/2 miles from the highway so the only sounds we get much of back here are the crickets and the sounds of the boats on the river. 

Perhaps a mosquito or twelve. A squirrel chattering to his nuts, so to speak.

I just stood not even thinking, and then I heard him coming. Rico. Padding along in his beloved flip flops which always makes me smile. They are SO close to disappearing into a landfill of my choosing but Rico refuses to part with his precious footwear. 

HOWEVER, I figure, he has to sleep sometime. HAHAHA.

But of course, that never works because when he sleeps he has yours truly in a death-grip huggie which frequently threatens my very existence and my emotional stability. That boy never takes chances true, but it is notable how risk-averse he gets when it comes to ME. 

I kid him, but in truth it has always been the case from the git-go and long before I had a clue that Rico loved me...and the FIRST time that boy saved my sorry ass...

I shudda seen how it was and just committed an act of TOTAL SURRENDER right then and there. BUT so often NAWT being the greediest ant at the picnic, as usual, NOOO. 

BITCH butt Connie had to shoot at me, knock me senseless (SHUT UP), and drag my ridiculously clueless butt to an abandoned mineshaft in the MIDST OF NOWHERE, where there was no room service. No dancing hottie dudes, NO wet bar, FUCK...and left BOTH me and Rico FOR DEAD. HOW FUCKING RUDE CAN YOU GET, not to mention CHEAP.

Ok. Now see, neither Rico nor I do dead at all well. MUCH TOO LIVELY and rowdy usually. I am usually talking or pouting or typing, and Rico is usually looking for either the rope or the duct tape or both. Sorry varmit but he is MY sorry varmit aka thugboy...hahaha.

BUT WHY does he feel the need to take me prisoner every night? WHY? 

I am the best-behaved Bear cub you eve...

what?

NO?

PFUI.

Anyway, for me to commit homicide on those flips I would have to use a chainsaw to remove Rico's arms from around me and to be honest?

I JUST AIN'T THAT GRACEFUL.

Uh...trust me. 

"Hey Bearski," he grinned mischievously as he moved in behind my soon to be putty in his arms self and wrapped his very strong and very long arms around me. 

SWOON!

UH wait. 

I THOUGHT BEAR HUGS WERE...uh..you know....
THINGS BEARS DO, not 6'4 1/2" 129#, ITALIAN SICILIAN DOOFUSES. SO wrong I have been it appears.

Yep I am 6'1and 131# give or take, and he is 6'4 1/2" and 129#. He is SOO skinny and also so tall that we use him as a flag pole on holidays. 

BUT KEWL. 

Course we do have to staple his clothes on every morning and I am about as bad. LOL.

"Hey Boo," I grinned back JUST as mischievously. No cuttin' slack here. 

"You get done at Johnny and J R's?"

"YEP YEP, and now I am ALLLLL yours."

"OH GOD," which of course earned me a slap on the butt aka adorable heinie.

"We gonna get a badass storm, Bearski."

"Yeh and from the looks and feel of things, gonna be a bangeroo."

"YEH YEH, I kin feel it baby."

"LOL, ME TOO, but storm got nuffin to do with it Boo.You pretty stormy yourself, huh."

He grinned the grin of a thousand veiled doofuses, and then we just stood at the railing enjoying the night, the view, each other. Especially that. GOOD GOD DAMN that fool makes me drool. Boy is one HELL of a hugger, and seemed especially uh, amorous tonight. Methinks fear will do that. LOL, even the faux kind.

Sidenote:  I WOULD JUST FUCKING DIE if anything ever happened to mah Boo. 
SERIOUS!

He's mah fave hoodlum. He is LIFE to me. From the night we came to reality in that mineshaft, it has been gangbusters FULL SPEED AHEAD for us. 

Fortunately that is a two-way street as you shall see. Truth is as you might already know, in our life together both of us have faced the grin weeper as I put it, a number of times...like when we were tossed unconcious into that aforementioned abandoned mine shaft.

THAT BITCH found out we don't die easily. Nope. Rico and I both got a real thing for breathing. For one thing we had the FBI on our side. BUT EVEN MORE, we had Rose. OMG. LOL, and as I recall, she snuck in behind the feds and damn near killed that crime family boss BITCH. HAHAHA. We still remind her of that.

Consuelo Connie, now the guest of Uncle Sam. But then? I told Rico.

"Boo, that bitch is OFF the Christmas Card list, the summer solstice thingy and she can forGET the prom."

"Got that right," as he winced from the pain of a gunshot wound at that point I didn't even know he had. It to him is always about ME, at the expense of himself...
and that drives me CRAZY.

Silly goose...
No he and I just do NOT give up easily...

plus, I figure the devil don't want us and God ain't too sure about our potential negative impacts on heaven. SO, him neither. HAH.

So here we stood, me being hugged tight, the sky darkening and I knew we would be hearing Mother Nature rumbling before too long.

Rico's cell went off.

"YEH..HEY drainpipe. What?
YEH YEH, nothing. OK, yeh dat kewl."

He hung up and turned to me with me already suspecting we were about to have company and who...and in about 3 minutes here came Johnny (aka drainpipe) and HIS beloved J.R. KEWL, but I also knew full well this was ONLY the grande marshals grand entrance and hardly the full parade. 

NOT LONG THOUGH. See this band of renegade ninnies can smell a gathering of party pals at a long distance, and we live close together. HAHA.

(TWENTY MINUTES LATER): At least 30 friends had committed the act of home invasion (OURS) and FOOD was FLYING.

SOME IN PLAY FIGHTS. LOL.

Fast forward a tad.

Rico and I were standing in the Great Room by the bar.

"What you thinky, Bearski honey?"

"I'm not sure, Boo. Really not."
"That neck hair thingy, Baby?"
"Yeh."
"THEY BOOFUL NECKHAIRS, but they sure do a workout."

I threw him an exasperating look.
"I KNOW." Oh how I know and he does too, but the truth is...

I was getting the tingles again, and Tess had just told me she was too. I had seen 'THAT LOOK' on Ofelia and Rose as well and as much as I wanted to grab Rico and RUN upstairs to bed, scramble under the covers, and oh crap I have been meaning to buy a Rottweiler, but then I got Rico di Sicilian. SAME THING right?

Before this little episode of shit was over we would all know my neck hairs had been right once again.

SO, boys and gerbils, as they say. 

HERE WE GO AGAIN.

Grab a cold one and a hottie or two and settle back. This ain't gonna be no walk in the park, maybe the cemetary.

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CHAPTER I:  THE BOOM