There's one down side to Charming that all of us tend to ignore. Those fucking Neo Nazis. They don't even have the right to breathe as far as I'm concerned. My heart jumps when I see those swastikas on their chest and arms. It also fills me with such anger and disgust that it's hardly tolerable. My grandmama on the Polish side, a Jew sent my then six year old father to New York to live with family members. Why you ask? She had visions (or so he said) that she saw World War II and the Holocaust coming and it would kill her family but especially her only son. She couldn't allow that so she sent him to live witha close Aunt who had migrated here to New York five years back. Several years later Germany invaded Poland, sending it's Jews and all of the Jews of Europe to death camps to be killed. My extended family was sent to Treblinka while others were sent to Auschwitz. My father never saw his mother or family again. How could people be so cruel as to murder someone for their beliefs or race. It hurt my father more than any knife that those self righteous bastards would destroy his family. He had no one except my Uncle Wladdek (trying saying that ten times fast) who lived in Israel.

I saw him once and he still had those horrid numbers tattooed into his flesh. He kept them so he would never forget what happened to him and others. He's still fighting to make sure the world never forgets what happened to those six million Jews. However I digress.

Tig and I were sitting in a diner at eleven at night. He hadn't been home in nearly three days on business and I stuck to him like glue. We were so distracted that we didn't even hear the bell ring when that fucking Nazi showed up. I was whispering in Tig's ear.

"Do you think they'll catch us?" I asked with a giggle. "I don't want to wait till we get home. I'll be really, really quiet."

"Maybe." he said with that devilish grin on his face. He was such a tease.

"Oh come on. You always begged me to do shit with you in public now, I'm practically begging you and you say maybe?"

"Yeah. So?"

"So? That means hop on this or I'll find someone who will. Maybe some soul brotha and, you know he's going to have a big black dick too."

"You won't." he said shaking his head.

"What makes you so sure."

He didn't answer but he pulled me even closer to him and ran his hand between my legs. There's a good boy. I grabbed his hand and we were about to run off to the bathroom like hormone raging teenagers when I nearly bumped into someone. Okay yeah I did bump into someone, hard. He smelled like soup too. Not like good soup but ugly shitty broth soup too. "Sorry." I said. I bet his whole house smelled like broth soup.

"Watch where you're fucking going." I heard the guy say. I stopped and turned around on my heel. So did Tig. Now I inherited one thing from my mother besides cooking and that was my temper. I stomped up to him. "I said fucking sorry, now cut the shit you sorry son of a bi-." Before I could finish Tig pulled me back and covered my mouth with his hand.

"You got a smart little mouth, spic." He said. Was my spicness that noticeable? Goddamn Brooklyn/Spanish angry accent. He was a dirty looking guy, balding with silver hair, and cold black eyes. He had several tattoos of white supremacy on his arms. My heart began to thump so loud against my chest I swore everyone could hear it. I was frozen solid.

"I'll handle this, alright?" Tig said to me, hand still cupping my mouth. "But you gotta shut up, okay? Do you promise me?" He asked. I nodded my head. I had no words left in me, anyway. Tig stepped forward.

"What the hell do you want Darby?" he asked.

Darby smiled a cocky little smile and took a step forward too. "Figured you'd like your dick in some dirty spic whore. Can't find a good white girl anymore, eh? So you turn around and do it." He said pointing to me. It?! Oh no he didn't! You're an embarrassment to yourself you, dirty little fuck!

Tig's jaw tightened and his fist were balled up and shaking. "Say that again, Adolf. I fucking dare you."

"Say what?" They were squaring up, what do I do?

"Call her a name one more time and I'm going to dunk my balls so far down your throat you'll beg for more."

"Didn't know you flew both ways, Tiggy. Goddamn Race traitor. Now go back in that bathroom and fuck your beaner whore-." BAM! Tig punched Darby as hard in the face as he could. I mean the guy practically flew back into a nearby table. Tig started pounding the shit out of him, and he didn't stop even when I and the guy who owned the restaurant started shouting at him. Darby started punching back, even harder, head butting him right in the face. Ouch. No one wins in a head butt. I should know from experience but that's a different story for a different time.

I was stunned, like my feet were glued to the floor. Just watching two men go at it hard. I heard loud sirens coming soon. "Tig!" I screamed. "Police!" He wasn't hearing me, he was just pounding into Darby like there was no tomorrow. "Police are coming, hello!" Before I knew it cops were coming and broke up the fight.

I had never been hauled off for questioning before in my life, but I knew the routine. I wasn't handcuffed by a cop led me by the arm. I looked at Tiga s he was being led off by another. "Don't say anything." he mouthed. I shook my head and stepped into the car. He looked awful, blood was coming from his nose, head and mouth. My poor Tiggy.

I was in a small room with a buzzing lightbulb hanging over me. I was scared, my hands and knees were shaking. I never get caught, I'm just that slick. I knew this was a test to prove my loyalty to the club. I'm no rat, just like Henry Hill from Goodfellas. I tell them everything, but not what they want to hear. I'll talk and talk and talk but I won't be saying anything. Cool. Sounds like plan.

A police officer comes in. Shit I'm fucked. At least so I thought. "I'm Chief Unser." he started closing the door. "You want anything? Water or something?" he asked.

"Cigarette would be lovely." I said with a smile. He pulled one out of his pocket and lit it up for me. I exhaled and nodded. "Thanks." I said.

"So you're Tig's old lady eh?" he said comfortably. He wasn't like most cops. He seemed more I don't know real.

"Yeah." I said exhaling smoke.

"For how long?"

"Eight months I suppose." I said leaning back in my chair.

"Ah." he said nodding. "What happened between him and Darby?" Back to business eh, Chief?

Okay girl, here's your test. What do I say? Confess that Darby called me a spic, and a whore more than once and not in that order? Stand by my man and plead the 5th? Claim that I had a sudden case of amnesia? What do I do? Gemma and Tig said over and over. When caught, "don't say anything." But what does that mean? Do I literally not say anything? Or do I keep talking about something else that's so off topic it's lunacy? Do I pretend I'm choking and claim vocal cord damage? Do I dance and do the hula? Tell me something other than that! They so need a training course or a manual for this shit. I'm so dropping that into the suggestion box. You know, when they decide to put one in. I mean if they have a manual for how to survive a zombie attack, sexual acts and how to make bombs that could possibly be used to dismantle the government, why can't they have one for unexperienced old ladies?

I just decided to take a deep breath and say the first thing that comes to my mind. I took another drag and looked up at Unser. But what does one say first?

"Well?" he said leaning back in his chair as well, growing impatient. I took another courageous breath said a silent Hail Mary and just spilled it out.

Reviews are an encouragement to me and will be highly appreciated to the trillionth degree. Where should I take this bad boy? What should Apples say?