Slay Queen

Thursday Morning.

The morning light is always best for watching the street. The Johnsons are the most reliable. They are lovely people because they stick to their rules. I like people who stick to the rules.

Mr. Johnson is out the door at 7:45 am exactly. He always taps his pocket to check for his keys, even though they are always there. He kisses his wife on the cheek and waves to the children. He drives away slowly. It is nice to see that kind of dedication to a routine. It makes the world feel safe and organized.

The children, Sarah and Timmy, run to the big yellow bus stop. They fight quickly over who gets the front seat on the way to school, but they stop before the bus gets there. Small dramas are easily solved. They have good parents.

Mrs. Johnson comes out at 8:10 am to walk the little white dog. It pees on the same patch of grass every morning. Every single morning. I admire that kind of predictability.

Just last night, a pizza delivery car stopped at their driveway. A small excitement for a Tuesday. They tipped the driver four dollars. I think that is a very generous tip for their size of order. They are good neighbors.

I can see every detail of their morning. I can read the small black letters on Mr. Johnson’s coffee mug. I can see the dust settle on the hood of his car. It is like they are standing right here in the room with me. The world is so much clearer when you view it this way.

I adjusted the focus slightly, tracking Mrs. Johnson as she pulls the dog back toward her front door. The cool metal felt good under my hand.

It is not just a window. It is the wide, clear glass of the scope, mounted here on its stand, offering a view better than any natural vision. I rested my cheek against the cold steel. My finger found the trigger guard. I rubbed the smooth, perfect curve of the trigger with the tip of my index finger.

The Johnsons have no idea how perfectly they live.

He loved pork and tonight was no exception. It always amazed him how such a delicious meat could come from an animal notorious for being filthy. Besides the meal, the Pork Tenderloin in a Calvados Cream Sauce, he enjoyed the look on Elaine Butler’s face after telling her and her lawyer he’s upped the price on his shares. Humphrey Davis was meant to sell his entire shares of twenty five %, but a financial loss from another business venture spurred him to up the price.

“That’s not what we agreed on,” Elaine said, with hard determination. But no matter how hard she determined herself, Humphrey willed himself not to fold. He needed the money more than she needed the shares. She was just a power hungry bitch who wanted to have most of the proxy of the company, so no one in the board can contest her decisions.

Humphrey drank his wine, savouring the sweet taste. “I’m afraid that’s the final offer, Ms Butler. I’m not open to any amount less than what I requested.”

She glanced at her lawyer, Mike Spencer, who was sitting on her left, looking at Humphrey with the same hostility her own eyes possessed. He shook his head.

Humphrey Snickered, after taking a mouthful bite of his pork. See, he was a messy eater, and hardly cared about table manners. He knew this, hence he’d rolled the sleeves of his jacket to prevent it from getting stained by grease. His hands were all slick and oily. He licked them, looking at these two, and he smiled when Elaine cringed.

“Then I’m afraid we don’t have a deal.”

“Seventeen million,” she said.

“Ms Butler, I already told you I’m not open to any amount less than twenty million,” he said calmly. “I’m set at that amount and that amount only, and if you can’t meet that price then please excuse yourselves. I’d like to eat in peace.”

They both frowned at him, the bitch and her thin, expensive-looking lawyer. Even with such a negative facial expression, he couldn’t deny her true beauty. He couldn’t deny what his eyes told him. She had a look of defiance about her, intolerable of any games or folly, a tall, beautiful woman only focused on business and nothing else. Right now she wasn’t getting what she wanted. And so the frown stayed, not diminishing her beauty but altering it. It’s a face he wouldn’t mind seeing before any destruction she might cause. She had a hot temper. Everyone in the office feared her as much as they respected her, both because of her position and her temper.

Several times he imagined him, under some fantasy, calming her by wrapping her with his arms after she lashed out at him for some insignificant thing he did. Maybe he accidentally spilled her expensive, imported coffee or publicly corrected a minor error in her presentation.

“Let’s go.” She said, and she and her lawyer gave him one last ugly look before they got up.

“Aren’t you guys ordering anything?” Humphrey asked, “I thought you were hungry. The pork is really good.”

He stared at her behind as she walked away, while his lawyer walked at her side. Her large behind was covered by her coat. A behind he would’ve liked to screw had she accepted him the time he availed himself to her. That was last summer, and since then he’s been thinking: how could a beautiful woman like herself stay single and be content with that. He knew that her position as CEO of Nova Systems afforded her a peremptory demeanor which also trickled into her life outside of the company. She wasn’t just the boss of a multimillion dollar company but she was also the boss of her life. That left a lower position for any man who’d like to enter her life, and Humphrey, back then, didn’t mind that. He knew she kept a male company now and then, privately, and he wanted to be that. He wanted her. But she declined him, one afternoon in the elevator when he decided to let her know how he feels.

He realized that’s why he enjoyed seeing the disappointment on her face, now that she can’t pay the new price for his shares. This felt like revenge, although, in all honesty, he still would’ve sold her the shares on the original price. If only things didn’t go south for him.

But still, Elaine Butler had a lot of money and could still afford the new price he’s asking. Perhaps her refusal was a strategy, and unless he told her there’s another interested buyer, she would’ve reconsidered her decision. That’s something he needs to tell her later, to add more pressure.

Humphrey finished off his meal as slow as he started it. He had nowhere to hurry to. Tonight he was free. That crazy bitch of his wife was probably on the phone right now, complaining to her friends about how sloppy and emotionally unavailable Humphrey is, as usual, and he’d ask her why don’t you leave me then, even though the divorce would cost him badly. As crazy of a bitch she was, Marian Davis loved him. And he loved her too, but not when she’d be crazy or be a bitch. He sometimes wondered why he married her, when there were so much better women out there, more quiet, more flexible than she is. More understanding. Was Elaine Butler one of those women? She surely was much more beautiful than his wife, much more reserved, and more thoughtful. So in a way, he would’ve liked her as Marian’s replacement. Even if it’s only for the night. Smart women like Elaine tend to be the best not just in the boardroom but also in the bedroom. Unlike other men who’ve been with her, he would’ve seen to it that she conceives his next child. That would’ve been a dream! He married Marian out of convenience; a high school sweetheart he’s spent most of his life with, a girl who knew him well, a girl his parents liked for him. A girl who’s been with him way before the money. It made sense to make her his wife.

He paid the bill and took his jacket. He was done eating. Marian could never cook a meal as good as this. Her pork always had a rubbery, dry texture, and each time he asked her to cook it a certain way, maybe by searing it first to seal in the juices, she’d be offended. And he’d drop the subject, and eat whatever she cooked, hoping that she didn’t somehow slip in any poison by accident.

On his way out of the restaurant he picked up a young woman who had been staring at him throughout his meal. Even when he was discussing with Elaine and her lawyer, the woman’s eyes hovered at the back, occasionally. He thought he was catching her each time he saw her stare, but he realised, as she didn’t look away when he caught her again, that she wanted him to know that she’s staring. He left the restaurant with her. He needed company tonight. On the way to his hotel room the woman babbled about herself, and he, driving, listened to her as if he cared. She was a Hollywood dreamer, a starving artist who’d moved to the city to ‘make it’ as a filmmaker, a typical story from other young women like herself. She never bothered to get him to talk about himself, or even ask, and Humphrey was glad he didn’t. He liked it that way, other than to lie about his identity. He wasn’t in the mood for a chat. He was thinking of ways to get money if ever Elaine still doesn’t budge. Over the course of preparing for that meeting at the restaurant, a few things came up, things which required him to dig deep into his pockets. First it was his mother’s sudden illness, a Stage IV pancreatic cancer which requires lots of money for operation. Secondly it was his son’s overseas trip, which he’d promised to pay for but had forgotten about. Humphrey Junior had long wanted to go to Kyoto, Japan, for his summer research internship, and of course dad couldn’t just pay for the flight ticket. He had to cover other expenses such as food and accommodation. Thirdly, Marian wanted to redecorate the house to prepare it for the Annual Charity Gala party she’ll be hosting. A perfect excuse for her to make the house look as glamorous as ever, but really, she just wanted to one-up on her housewife friends she’s in secret competition with. Humphrey, like most men, has never cared about the specifics of decor and how his house looked. He always thought it all looked fine, the furniture, clean and functional, stood where it needed to be. And then there’s the issue with another woman he’s been having an affair with, who has been phoning him with regards to her monthly allowance and College fees. She also wanted lunch money for school, and had other outstanding bills that needed his urgent attention. A man’s trouble is always ultimately about finances. His dad once told him, ‘Son, you’ll spend your life shoveling coal into other people’s furnaces, and they’ll never thank you for the heat.’

But the problems were minor compared to the real reason why he upped the price on his shares. He had a few investments which failed, costing him tons of money. And there was a sensitive business opportunity unrelated to Elaine’s company. An opportunity which could prove to be lucrative. A prime piece of real estate at a rock-bottom price. The opportunity required a substantial capital injection now, as in two days ago, and for someone who’d been flirting with the idea of joining another business venture, this seemed like he’d stumbled into wide acres of fertile soil. He wanted in, and the original price for his shares wouldn’t cut it. He wanted more.

He got into his hotel room with this unnamed woman — she could’ve told him her name when she babbled. He was too zoned out to pay her any attention. On his bed, in the dim lighting, he did things to her, things he would’ve liked to have done on Elaine Butler. Things he would do on his wife. And this woman happily obliged, convincing him that she’s been in this position before, as much as he has.

The boy was late, hence he rode his bicycle as quickly as his little legs would allow. He was bathed in sweat. He rode as if he’s in a race, but he realized he was in one, in fact, only the opponent wasn’t anyone but time itself. The road was long and narrow and dark, and so he had to focus his eyes as well as his peddling. It was an old bike, given to him by his friend,whom he’s been spending most of the day with, riding around with other kids, racing. They had gone to the friend’s home for some snacks and video games, and that’s when Tom, the boy, lost track of time. It flies when you are having fun. And he had so much fun.

He rode by on the side, more sweat pouring off him (and it didn’t help that it’s a hot October night), thinking about his mom, who was obviously worried sick about him. If he were to guess he’d say it’s well over half past seven right now, maybe even eight. He knew a severe punishment awaited him: losing the bicycle for a month, having his video game console confiscated, and being grounded until the end of the school break. He dreaded going home, yet that’s where he had to be, where he was rushing to. He realized it would’ve been smarter if he asked his friend Will to convince his parents to let him stay over for the night. They would’ve called Tom’s mom and calmed her. But he couldn’t stay over for the night because they had school tomorrow. It wasn’t the weekend yet. And her mom was probably calling Will’s parents right now, asking them where he is.

Cars rushed by on the road, occasionally bathing him in their headlights. The ones behind him made him feel chased, and it was better in making him peddle faster. Soon he fell, right on the tall grass, the bicycle lodged on his leg. It pained him a little. It took a while for him to get up. Cars rushed by, going in opposite directions. If he was old enough he would’ve hitchhiked.

As he dusted himself, he felt caught in more headlights, these ones brighter than before. They were not passing. He turned, heart beating fast. The lights were so bright he couldn’t see the car that stopped behind him. He shielded his face with a hand and looked away. He heard the car door snapping. His first impulse was to climb his bike and ride away. However, a sweet voice stopped him. “Hey, kid,” he heard footsteps crunching on the ground. “You alright?”

He looked back, but the lights were still too bright. He looked down, and even there the light was still blasting. “I’m okay,” he said, one hand holding onto his bicycle.

“You look a little rough. I saw you falling,” said the stranger. “Need a ride?”

Tom tried to look through the brightness. He could see the person now. They looked harmless. They looked caring. Their appearance matched the sweet voice. Plus he was still too far to make it home. A little ride would be a gift. “Sure,” he said.

“Come in, then. Let’s get your bike at the back.”

“Thanks.”

“Where do you live?”

Tommy got into the car as he gave directions to his home. But they never went there.

He was reminded of the woman’s presence when he woke up, tired and naked. She was naked too, her long blonde hair sprawled over the pale, generic hotel bedding, when he had taken them out in a hurry. She had served her purpose, unless he’d need her again. She was of no use to him right now. And she understood this when she was awake. Unlike others, she made no fuss; just ate her breakfast, showered, and left with whatever money he gave her. He still had no idea who her name was. It doesn’t matter, if they’ll only meet for one night and go their separate ways afterwards. It didn’t matter who her name was. He could’ve called her by any name. A nickname perhaps. Humphrey, as he put his pants on after also showering, considered it a nice idea if he’d actually do that; call these girls by a single nickname. He’d call them all Elaine.

He thought of his boss and that time he tried her in the elevator. When the doors pinged open he hurried out, feeling embarrassed, and for the next couple of days he rarely showed himself at the company. He felt like he’d offended her with his proposition, and thus, the only way to make things right was to give her his vote on any board decision. So it came with no surprise that when it came to selling off his shares he considered her first, and she may have thought he’s doing so in an attempt to win her heart, but rather, it was to make things right and try to make her forget about that moment in the elevator. Every time he remembered that moment, he’d wonder what would have happened if the elevator stuck. If he was left stranded there, with a woman he tried getting. He soon realized nothing would’ve happened, at least from her, because ever since that day, nothing had changed from her side. She still regarded him the same way as before. The same way before she’d rushed into that elevator and told him to hold it open. She treated it like it’s nothing, and she may have even forgotten about it. It was him who dealt with the shame and turmoil, afraid to look at her whenever they crossed paths in the office. It seemed fair. It seemed right. He started it, and the fact that his try at her didn’t bother her, meant she didn’t feel the same about him. To her he was just Humphrey Davis, another shareholder in the company.

He got a text from Stan Houser, his associate telling him about the property deal. He considered settling for Elaine’s offer of seventeen million, now that the deal might slip away if he took too long to seal it. Before Stan let him know about this property, he originally planned to stand firm on the twenty million, force Elaine to sweat, and wait for a better-suited buyer to materialize, but now the timeline was critically short, and he needed that seventeen million liquid by the end of the day to secure the bid.

He got a call from his wife.

“Humphrey?”

“Marian.”

“Humphrey?”

“Marian,” he said again, “can you hear me?”

“I do,” she said, “I can hear you.”

“Okay.”

“I’m calling to let you know that I won’t be available for Paul’s game later today,” she said.

“Why?”

“The renovation, Humphrey, that’s why. The workers have come in and I’ll have to watch them.”

“Okay.”

“So you’ll have to go watch him solo.”

“Okay,” he said again, and she hung up. He had forgotten about that game, and he’d promised his younger son he’d be there to watch him (not cheer him on, as he’d remarked), and, like that promise he made to his oldest son, he also forgot this one. Although he never said it, Paul was never subtle in letting him know about the lack of his emotional investment. And Marian herself covertly entertained the idea, always telling him to do things with Paul, and one day, annoyed, Humphrey told her he doesn’t need her to remind him of his fatherly duties. He could admit to himself that indeed he wasn’t available that much into his young son’s life, but he could make an excuse that it’s because of work, it’s because of the legacy he’s trying to build for them, his kids. But nonetheless, despite the nice life he’s accumulated for them, in their eyes he still wasn’t enough. He had forgotten about the game, and if Marian didn’t call, he wouldn’t have gone, and that would have added more into the narrative against him. He went to the game, as reluctant as he was. And Stan didn’t appreciate the fact that he had to reschedule their meeting, but besides that, Humphrey still had a decision to make, one that required a lot of thinking and time. One that required money. Should he take the gamble of waiting for Elaine to meet his price of his shares, or should he just buy the property deal and recoup the money later? He had no idea where he’d recoup it, but at the same time, he needed the property, more than Elaine needed the shares. She just needed the shares to cement her full voting power over the other board members. She was just a power-hungry bitch.

He didn’t know where the game took place, and so, dreading to call his wife and ask her (because that would reveal his lack of seriousness), he searched up the venue under his son’s school team, and finally he found where the game played. But it cost him a lot of delay, and so he arrived at the grounds and found the game had already started. And by the looks of it, the sweating on the kids and the worn out pitch, the game may have started a long time ago.He almost asked the guy he was seated next to how much time has passed by, until he saw at the scoreboard that it’s 53:33 — second half. St. Jude’s Academy versus Westwood Prep, and he also didn’t know whether his son’s team were the ones wearing blue or white. It was a typical scene at the soccer match between two highschool teams; parents at the stands shouting their kids’ name, cheering, while sellers of sodas and cake walked around. This wasn’t Humphrey’s type of place. This wasn’t what he liked, he was never a sport’s guy, unlike most men. The only sport he ever liked was sailing, and that was a while ago when his own dad used to dabble in it. And he was deeply into it like that. He was always into business, and that’s what he wanted his sons to be in as well, to follow in his footsteps and continue the legacy he’s built for them. Perhaps, in realization, that could be why he never got along with his son. Both of them for that matter. Unlike Paul the youngest, Junior (the oldest), never gave him any hint of dissatisfaction in his parenting. He just took him for what he was, and Humphrey wasn’t as deeply involved into him as he currently wasn’t with Paul. And Junior never showed any interest in his businesses or taking over from him. He put a hand on his forehead, blocking the sun, and scanned the running boys, but he couldn’t spot his son. He thought he was in the bench then, but even when his eyes went to the kids on the sidelines, on either team, he still couldn’t spot Paul. That’s when he wondered whether he’d come to the right game. But the names on the scoreboard said St. Jude’s Academy and Westwood Prep, and St. Jude’s was his school. That’s when he thought he shouldn’t have come here after all. He should’ve been at the meeting, and Stan and his team would’ve come with a solution. He sat back as the match continued. The parents hollered like cheerleaders. A goal was scored, by the team in blue, and one bald mom with fake earrings stood up and yelled, “that’s Mike my son. Wooo!” she clapped and the other people nearby looked at her pleasantly, even though they were parents of the kids playing for the opposition. “Love you, boy,” the mom said, and the guy sitting next to her looked visibly embarrassed. Humphrey felt for him, funny enough, and he knew just by staring at the guy that he was dragged by her. He was probably meant to be somewhere else, like Humphrey. He probably wasn’t even the real father of Mike, just a stepdad showing up for support.

Humphrey heard Paul’s name shouted by one of the boys on the ground and that’s when he spotted him, wearing the blue kit, the team that scored, wearing number seven jersey, running on the side. His hair was all strange and pale, different from the last time Humphrey saw him, and he supposed that’s why he couldn’t spot him at first. He didn’t approve of this hairstyle; his son looked weird. However, he approved of how he played, mainly because he didn’t lose the ball. He managed to pass to the other kid who yelled his name. For the remainder of the match, Humphrey watched him, his son, and he was convinced he loved to play. The game eventually ended with them winning. He loved how Paul celebrated with his teammates, chanting and hugging each other. The parents and the fans were allowed into the ground then, and Humphrey saw the tension in Paul’s face when some of his teammates got taken by their parents, while he and others walked off to the side. When he saw Humphrey he cracked a smile. “Dad.”

“Paul.”

“Wow, you came,” he said, sweaty, breathing hard.

“Why are you surprised?” Humphrey asked.

“I didn’t expect to see you. What, did mom force you to come?“

“No.”

“Where is she anyway? Thought it’s her I’ll be seeing.”

“Home, watching over the renovation.”

“Oh, that.” Paul frowned, looking even more tired. “She’s been so focused on that lately.”

“You know your mom, always obsessing about how the house looks.”

Humphrey waited on the bench as Paul and his teammates ran to the locker rooms to change. He chatted a bit with some of the parents and the coach, all of whom seemed pleased over the victory, and all of them didn’t know he was Paul Davis’ father until now. “You look so alike,” said one snobby guy.

And Humphrey said thanks, supposing that came from a good place; he always liked how he looked.

Paul came over with his bags. He’s changed into his regular clothes, some torn jeans and sneakers, and a black jacket with fake metal spikes on the sleeves.

“You are back home now?” Paul asked, sitting in the passenger seat.

“No, I’m still in the city,” Humphrey said, “but I’ll be back soon. Still got some business to wrap up.” He felt a bitter taste at the reminder that even when he was gone, his absence didn’t mean much, mostly because he rarely spent any time with his son. Despite how unfair he thought the criticisms were, they were right. He didn’t attach himself deeply enough to his son, almost as if he was a stranger. He long thought it’s because of how different they were as people, how Paul liked things Humphrey either didn’t like or understood. Like soccer for instance, and that new hairstyle of his, which looked like noodles dropped on his head. Maybe it was the age thing, but still, he didn’t detach himself on purpose. He’d die for his son, both of them. He looked at him. He had his window opened so the wind shook his hair, and the noodles now looked like wiggling worms.

“You were good out there,” Humphrey said, “on the pitch.”

“You only saw me at the last minute,” Paul said, “you weren’t there most of the match.”

The words gave him a tummyache, as though he swallowed them like bad food, as much as he heard them. He couldn’t help but think Paul didn’t only reference the game but his entire life as well, maybe subtly, maybe that was Humphrey’s guilt working against him.

“Sorry I was late,” he said.

“I know,” Paul said, deadpan, staring at the windshield. He wasn’t surprised that he was late. He was just surprised that he showed up. “You had important business to attend to.“

“I actually cancelled a meeting to watch your game,” Humphrey said, “even though I was late, but,” he shrugged, hands on the wheel. “Sorry.” He could tell from Paul’s silence that it didn’t mean much, that he cancelled his meeting. He already had his own ideas about him. After further silence, Humphrey driving past the robot before it turned red, he said, “you know, I don’t like this.”

“You don’t like what?”

“This notion you and your mother seemed to have formed against me.”

“What notion?”

“That I don’t care about you. That I’m…too focused on business, I’m not there for you.”

Paul stared at him for a while. “I never said that, dad.”

“You didn’t need to, Paul. I can tell from just how you move. The subtext. Your energy. Your angst. I can read it clearly,” Humphrey said, “And your mother. You know she doesn’t hold back any punches.”

“I thought you weren’t proud of me,” Paul said.

“What?”

“Yeah. Like, I thought you don’t like who I am, not like you don’t like me as your son. I just thought you don’t like the fact that I’m not like Junior, or you.”

“Where did you get that?” Humphrey asked, bemused.

“Your actions. The detachment.”

Humphrey felt a warm rush of relief that he even smiled. “What a misunderstanding! No, it’s not that, Paul. I do like you, god dammit, you my son. How can I not like you? I thought you were the one who didn’t like me.”

“Why?” Paul looked at him with a confused face.

“Because, like I said, I’m not there enough. I’m always busy, always attending to business matters.”

“That is kinda true.”

“I’m sorry,” Humphrey said. “I’m sorry, Paul.”

“It’s cool. At least we’ve cleared the air.”

“I must’ve misread your aloofness as disappointment at my availability. I’ll do better.”

“Jeez, don’t get all sentimental with me.”

Humphrey smiled again. “Wait until your mom hears about this.”

“When will you come back home?”

“I don’t know,” Humphrey said. “But I’ll be home within a week.” He saw the McDonald’s building on the left by the park. “You hungry?”

Paul said yes and Humphrey turned the car to the drive thru, whistling.

He arrived late at the hotel. 19H45 when he checked the time. The sassy receptionist told him that no one had come in to check for him. He got into his room, feeling good about how the day went. Now he had to focus on what lay ahead, this property deal which still hung up for grabs, with time and money to acquire it. He could feel he was running out of both, and that knocked off the good feeling he was having about how the day went. He’d just been on the phone with his young side chick who told him she’s passed her exam. Humphrey felt genuinely happy for her. He turned the lights on, unbuttoning his shirt. He sat down and took off his shoes, only leaving his gray socks. He remembered the girl he had picked up at that restaurant and spent the night with. He remembered her young docile body in his grasp. She was nice. He realized he’d made a mistake by not gathering any information about her, maybe her phone number, because now he wasn’t sure whether he wanted her again for another night. As he took a shot of his whiskey and it seemed to clear his head, he realized he probably didn’t need the girl again. One night was enough. Didn’t he have a mistress already? He was cheating on her, too. Realizing he hadn’t eaten since morning (he only bought food for Paul at that drive thru), he ordered room service, a supper of Grilled Ribeye Steak with Creamy Garlic Mashed Potatoes and Asparagus.

Meanwhile he took a quick shower. He heard a knock on the door, and he was already done showering. “That was fast,” he said. They knocked again, and he opened the door and found it wasn’t the room service he ordered.

“Elaine?” he said, dumbfounded, more so since he hadn’t put on any of his clothes. He still had on the white towel.

“I seem to have found you at the right moment,” she said, exuding the same bossy demeanor of the office, where she really played her role as the boss. She touched him on his nude hairy chest with her cool, slender fingers, eased him backwards. She walked in and closed the door with the other hand. He was afraid at how sombre she gazed at him, afraid of the black trench she wore and those knee-length black boots. He remembered how cocky he was when he dismissed her offer to buy his shares, when she was negotiating with her lawyer by her side.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. He smelt trouble. Her other hand was deep into her coat on the torso.

“Elaine,” he said, stepping back. The heels of his feet touched the carpet behind him, he made a little stumble. He said her name again, and she smiled.

“I didn’t like how our last meeting ended,” she said, her other hand still in the coat. “So I figured you and I should make another deal. One I think you’ll find irresistible.“

He looked at the hand. “What is this deal?”

The hand moved, opening the coat, the only thing she wore. “This,” she said, “all yours. For tonight.“

It was as though she’d opened a chest and the treasure gleamed at his face with its golden light. He was about to gasp but he swallowed it. She was good, better than he’d seen her in all of his imaginations.

Then she closed the chest and the gleam vanished and his face was back in the dim light again. His eyes went up to her beautiful, arrogant face, long silky hair and a touch of red lipstick. “Seventeen million,” she said. “And this.”

Someone knocked at the door and Humphrey quickly opened. His meal has arrived. “Thank you.” He didn’t allow the waiter to walk in. He simply pulled in the rolling table tray and closed the door. When he turned back around to Elaine he saw the coat was on the floor. Humphrey also took off his towel.