The Condo

I will not let that whore get that condo.

I will not let that whore get the Bentley. I will not let that whore get the BMW. I will not let that whore get the Mercedes.

I will beat that whore. I have always bested Donald’s whores. They come along, willing to do disgusting things for that disgusting man, and they think they’ve found a vein that’s going to gush money forever.

Nope. It’s my money too. It’s my money and you will not win a condo for fucking my husband. You want to fuck the jackass, be my guest. You will not keep the condo.

The whore really got me when she leaked the tape. I keep beating myself up over that. When she became Donald’s archivist I’m not even sure. She was being moved around from fake job to fake job. Then one day I spoke to Donald about a building we’d agreed to sell, and he said he hadn’t agreed to the sale, and I said no, your memory is shot, remember this was back in October right when the season was starting and Chris Paul had just joined the team and we thought we might have a winning season, which always feels good, and Donald says, “I didn’t agree! I’ll have V get the tape!”

I thought, V’s making tapes? I thought, how long has V been making tapes? I thought, I hope Donald’s doctor isn’t going to blow his heart out with all these sex pills.

Here’s the thing about your 77 year old husband having an affair- it means less work for you. I never really planned for what being old would be like. I planned for the money, made sure to have more money than anyone I knew, but I never had a vision for how my days would go. Sometime in my fifties Donald and I were done with each other. He’s not a pleasant man. He’s loud, he’s demanding, he takes up all the air in the room, he has stupid ideas he won’t shut up about. I put in my time but once the children were grown I wasn’t going to waste anymore of my mornings listening to his chew with his mouth open.

There were whores back then, whores all the way through. I didn’t hold Donald to high standards of faithfulness. What he did for me was the most important thing a husband could do- he made money. He made tons of money. To be clear, I also made that money. I collected the rent checks when we were first starting out, and you tell me what part of being a landlord is tougher than that. Well, kicking people out. But if I’m being honest, I don’t mind evictions. People acting like I’m running a charity has always grated on me. People acting like since I’m a woman I’m supposed to be some Blessed Mother type has always pissed me off. People assuming I don’t want to come out on top, that I’m ok with second place, that I can do without, pisses me off too.

That whore isn’t getting the condo.

I underestimated V about the tapes. She handed them over, like the dutiful sweet little Mexican girl she pretends to be, than three days later Donald acting just like the mewling child-grandpa he is was all over the internet.

I was so furious I didn’t eat for three days. Because that little bitch wasn’t out to hurt him. He’s practically a vegetable, who unfortunately still talks. Maybe not a vegetable but hardly a person. He’s a conductor of emotions, and none of the good ones. She was out to hurt me. She wanted to take the team away from me.

She knows I love that team. The real estate business is only fun when you have a day when you make a couple million. The basketball business has a lot more going on. You get to sit court-side and everyone sees you’re the owner. You get to trade players that aren’t making themselves valuable to you. Sometimes you get to win.

Unlike in real estate, Donald always got in the way of us winning in the basketball business. His instincts to be an asshole always overrode any strategic thought about the Clippers organization. For years anytime we got a good coach or player he made things unbearable for them. He’s a man who is threatened easily and when he’s threatened he shows off, without thinking. I never hate him more than when he shows off. When we were getting the condos back from his last whore, and he spent a deposition bragging about how long she sucked on him, I thought I might kill him, honestly. I thought, how could you humiliate me like that, your wife of forty years, the woman who built your business, who collected all those rent checks, who let you have your whores and your bragging and your showing off? How can you forget me like that?

We don’t have the team anymore. I loved that team. I loved all the monstrously tall young men, they’re freaks, giants, hardly even people they’re so tall and muscular. They always were unfailingly polite to me. “Good morning, Mrs. Sterling!” they’d call out from practicing. If I were a man I’d be that kind of man. I’d be so strong I’d never have to show off. I would just lift weights, and run, and practice, and I’d win. I have the focus. I’ve always been the one with the focus and the plan. I’ve always been the one who cared about winning.

I wasn’t born a man. I was born a woman and everything I’ve had people have thought I wouldn’t mind giving away.

That bitch thinks she’s pulled a power play. She thinks I’m going away. I don’t need a basketball team. I’m in my eighties, I’m not in this game much longer. But she’s only 32. And 32 year old women need places to live.

That whore is not getting the condo.

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