My Parents Sold My Corvette While I Was in Tokyo

Jet lag was hitting me in waves. Thirteen hours in economy, a connection in Detroit, and now this. My back hurt. My eyes felt like sand. And my mother was telling me to clean up the mess she’d made by stealing from me.

“No,” I said. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to call Rich Pemberton. Tonight. You’re going to explain what happened. continue reading …