They laughed when I moved into dance with them in the nearby city clubs. They called me fat, a fag, a pervert, a loser, and after a while, I could not...take their abuse any longer. Despite growing up among the most beautiful of them, my love for them turned to hatred when they passed me over for the same type of men I witnessed in the locker rooms of the High School, yes, those same well-hung men who fit between their legs nicely, those same men who made money and supported them without lifting. “Whatever. Your husband is a boring prick. You should ditch him yourself.”Mom didn't answer. She just turned around the document and pushed it at Vanessa. Then Mom produced a gold pen from her purse. She thrust it across the table. It rolled and rattled, stopping before Vanessa. She picked it up, her dark fingers sliding over the bright surface.“Fuck it,” muttered Vanessa. “Your husband's a lousy fuck. You can have the money back.”“Oh, I've already recovered it,” Mom said. “You still have my. More

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