Her Military Man

"Pardon my French, lady, but that's a load of--" Beeeeeeeep. "My, my..." Constance Price, aka Miss Manners, said with a relieved sigh. How could it be Wednesday when it felt so much like Monday? Thank goodness she'd hit the censor button in time to avoid the juiciest portions of her caller's rant from hitting Mule Shoe, Oklahoma's airwaves. She liked to think her talk radio program was progressive, but not in a vulgar, do-any-stunt-for-ratings way. Monday through Friday, noon to 2:30, she prided herself in tastefully providing listeners with lifestyle tips on everything from hosting the perfect dinner party to sharing the perfect relationship. Sounded great in theory, but when it came to the whole guy-girl thing? Her own life hadn't turned out so hot. That said, how had she landed the job as Mule Shoe's queen of manners? Well, the show she'd originally pitched had had more of a Martha Stewart domestic-type theme. Much to her daily consternation, to expand the advertising base, Constance's boss had tagged on the show's relationship portion. Of course, that sometimes opened the door to a lot of opinionated listeners. "Thank you, sir, for your enlightened view." "Enlightened, my--" Beeeeeeeep. "Thanks again," Constance said before disconnecting the caller, then taking a hasty sip of a Diet Coke she wished had a bit more kick--with an un-ladylike poke of rum! "All right, as a refresher to my listeners, today's theme is breakups--how to handle them in a mutually respectable and mannerly fashion. Renee-Marie," she asked her show's redheaded Cajun producer and the station's part-time receptionist, "do we have another caller?" "Line two," Renee-Marie said with a wink. A wink? Shaking her head, Constance hit the feed. "Miss Manners here. How may I assist you in living a more civilized existence?" "Okay," the same obnoxious caller said, "I get the hint about toning down my language. But while you've been sitting in your no doubt pink satin broadcast booth, I've been off serving our country in godforsaken places you couldn't imagine in your worst nightmares." "Sorry..." Constance glared at Renee-Marie who'd held up a note that read, Felix made me do it! Felix was the station owner, her boss and a royal pain in Constance's derriere. "Truly, I am, but--" "Look, all I'm trying to say is there's no such thing as a mannerly breakup. I usually wouldn't have time for rehashing ancient history on a show about manners, but I've been laid up with a busted leg, giving me far too many hours for reflection. Case in point, I once knew this girl--let's call her Lucky--well..." Chills ran up Constance's forearms. A million years ago back in high school, Garret used to call her Lucky--on account of her being his lucky charm. Long story short, if ever there'd been a textbook example of an unmannerly breakup, theirs was it! "...Lucky was a looker. In fact, she reminded me a lot of you. Oh, she put on a great self-effacing act. You know, acting all demure and polite about what a closet sex kitten she truly was, but let me tell you, that girl could purr." Constance cleared her throat, loosening the collar of her high-necked, long-skirted, prairie-style dress in the process. "Might I remind you this is a family show. Please refrain from the more base details of your story." "Yes, ma'am..." Was that a mocking grin behind his words? Garret used to do the same thing--tease her about being too formal. Like she'd been born a century too late. "So, like I was saying, Lucky--" he coughed "--better known as you--pretended to be one thing, but inside..." His sad laugh rang over otherwise dead air. Dead. Out of necessity, the way things had been left between them. "Anyway, without airing dirty laundry, all I'm trying to say is how about not just layiAltom, Laura Marie is the author of 'Her Military Man ', published 2007 under ISBN 9780373751518 and ISBN 0373751516.