Authors: Sandi Perry
"I'm
not
in
the
mood."
"That's
not
what
you
said
last
night."
"I
can't
hear
you
over
the
engine
noise."
He
yanked
her
down
into
the
seat
next
to
him.
"Those
are
the
biggest
sunglasses
I've
ever
seen."
She
pulled
her
arm
away
and
smoothed
out
her
sweater,
"Be
careful
how
you
handle
the
merchandise."
"That's
not
what
you
said
last
night."
"It's
time
to
put
the
smarm
away,
Alex.
We're
heading
back
to
New
York."
She
looked
at
him,
"And
could
you
quit
smiling?
Your
teeth
are
giving
me
a
headache."
"You're
a
mean
drunk,"
he
said.
"I'm
a
mean
person,
period."
"You're
not.
Vulnerable,
wounded,
maybe
damaged,
but
not
mean."
"Damaged?
I
share
a
heartfelt
memory
with
you,
something
sacred
and
personal,
and
your
response
is
that
you
think
I'm
damaged?"
she
asked.
"We're
all
damaged
Allison,
to
one
degree
or
another.
Please
don't
be
mad
at
me."
He
looked
at
her
softly
and
reached
over
to
remove
her
glasses,
letting
them
drop
onto
his
lap.
"I
learned
a
lot
about
you
on
this
trip,"
she
said.
"So,
do
I
get
the
job?"
"You're
always
on
the
prowl,"
she
shook
her
head.
"Well,
the
truth
is
you've
given
me
a
lot
to
think
about.
On
another
note,
we
didn't,
um,
last
night?"
"No,
you
would
have
remembered."
"You're
cocky."
"Confident."
She
reached
over
into
his
lap
to
retrieve
her
glasses
and
smiled
with
satisfaction
as
he
flinched.
"I'm
not
ready
to
fully
share
myself
with
you
yet,"
she
said
as
she
got
up
and
took
another
seat.
"But
you
will
be
soon.
I
guarantee
it,"
Alex
said
softly.
Emily
was
finalizing
a
sale
on
the
abstract
piece,
Musician,
by
Ellin
B.,
when
Allison
walked
in
shortly
before
closing
time.
Emily
raised
her
eyebrows
and
Allison
recognized
it
as
the
signal
for
some
TLC
from
the
owner.
She
stepped
over
to
the
diminutive
man
with
the
outsized
wallet
and
introduced
herself
as
the
gallery
owner.
"Mr.
Harrison,
it's
a
pleasure
meeting
a
fellow
art
lover."
"Please
call
me
Alfred,"
he
said
as
he
leered
up
at
her.
"And
as
far
as
the
lover
part,
you'd
be
right
about
that."
Allison
straightened
her
spine
and
warred
with
herself
to
keep
a
civil
tongue
in
her
head.
"Mr.
Harrison,
Emily
will
take
down
your
shipping
information,
please
excuse
me.
I
have
some
paperwork
that
needs
my
attention."
"Sure.
But
if
you
ever
need
any
extra
attention,
I'm
your
man!"
he
shouted
to
her
retreating
back,
his
threat
bouncing
off
the
crisp,
lacquered
walls
and
high
ceiling
of
the
room.
Some
comments
cannot
be
ignored
she
thought
and
turned
back
to
face
him.
"Mr.
Harrison,
I
wonder,
would
you
be
this
friendly
if
I
were
thirty
pounds
heavier?"
He
sputtered
and
stuttered
in
an
attempt
to
regain
his
edge,
but
came
up
short,
again,
she
noticed.
"I
didn't
think
so.
You
and
your
credit
card
are
welcome
here
anytime,
but
I
would
appreciate
some
respect,
as
befits
the
owner
of
this
establishment,"
she
said.
He
opened
his
mouth
in
response
but
huffed
out
the
door,
instead.
Thankfully,
he
hadn't
reneged
on
the
sale,
but
Allison
wouldn't
have
cared
either
way.
Emily
turned
on
her,
"You're
ornery
today—what
the
hell
happened
in
Atlanta?"
"Quick,
turn
out
the
lights
before
any
more
gremlins
come
by."
"Nasty,
nasty,
you
are."
"Everyone's
nasty;
I
just
don't
hide
it.
And
I
don't
need
to
be
demeaned
by
a
man—or
anyone.
"
"And
again
I
direct
my
question
to
the
jury,
what
in
the
world
happened
with
gorgeous
Alex
in
Georgia?
I've
been
dying
to
find
out
all
weekend."
"My
darling
Emily,
I
need
a
pitcher
of
margaritas
to
tell
the
tale.
Let
us
take
our
leave;
Samuel
and
his
potent
potables
eagerly
await
our
arrival."
She
flung
her
scarf
over
her
shoulder
dramatically
and
with
a
flourish
worthy
of
Nora
Desmond
made
her
way
to
the
street
with
Emily
half
a
beat
behind
her.