Too Late, Madam: Your Husband Quit

he sweat trickling down Chris

d just enough to look submissive, but not enough to look like a hunchbac

e perfume, old stone, and the specific, metallic scent of judgment. Christopher held Hillary's clutch-a Judith Le

the eyes

't need to look up to know what they were thinking. There's the

ter. This was part of the package. The contract required him to be the perfect foil to Hillary's

ead. Her smile remained fixed for the flashing cameras

mumbled, pitching his voice to

through her nose. "You're embar

shadow fell over them. A heavy hand clapped

isn't the h

is arrogance like a second skin. He was wearing a tuxedo

d. He made sure the

said, her tone fros

ng Christopher off balance. Calhoun held a flute of champagne in his other hand. With a til

's lapel. The cheap rental f

ry. "My bad, Chris. Send me the bill for the dry cle

ound them tittered. It was

ng, dark and wet against the black. He felt the cold

ngry. He didn't

s lower lip tremble just a fraction. "It's.

hands shaking. He dabbed at the stain frantical

un with anger; she was looking at Christopher with loathing. She

her voice low and venomous. "Clea

course. I'm so

nearly tripped over his own feet, eliciting a

rs hunched. He navigated the sea of silk gowns and

y oak door of the men's

checked the

red at his reflection in the mirror. The pathetic, terrified look in his eyes vanis

wrist. It was a Casio, black rubber, j

55

min

ipes. He scrubbed the champagne stain with efficient, brutal strokes. He

trash. His face was blank. N

min

through his hair, messing up the care

e mi

like a physical wave. He scanned the room. Hillary was standing near the Temple of

sn't pushi

minu

e through the crowd this time. He cut a straig

d, her eyebrows knitting together, r

er, where

stop

om her. He didn't look at her face. He

ainst his wrist bone.

00

y

ly Clause 4.2 regarding "Public Maintena

't speak. He rai

ng band on his ring finger. It was tight. He twist

pul

ng sli

ght. Hillary's eyes widene

es. Christopher didn't look at the waiter. He

in

nore. It hit the base of a crystal flute and settled th

ked at Hillary. For the first time i

ye, Hi

wer, stripped of the nasal whine he had cult

d his ba

oice cracked. It wasn't a

pt wa

is name. Heads turned. The m

pher knew named Gary, stepped forward to intercep

t knee from college football. He feinted right, then sli

vy brass doors of

y rushed into his lungs. It t

ndid his bowtie. He pulled the strip of silk from his collar an

pressed the power button and held it until the screen went black. Then, he used his thumbnail t

her pocket and pulled

back at the millions of dollars, the caviar, or

th Avenue, just another dark figu