“Shall I call Kelly again?” Harold asked quietly.
I looked at the wine I no longer wanted to touch.
“No, Harold. I think I’ve had enough.”
“Relax.”
I reached under the seat for my bag.
Brittany kept streaming.
I took a hundred-dollar bill from my wallet and let it flutter down beside Brittany’s feet.
“Sweetheart? I think you dropped something.”
“What?”
She looked down, folded forward, snatched up the bill and stuffed
it in her purse.
Brittany kept streaming.
“Guess you’re not completely blind after all. Thanks.”
Of course she took it. In her world, everything that fell near her was hers.
But the hair was long enough to be in two places at once. The rest of her went down.
The hair stayed draped over her seat, the ends heaped on my tray.
I opened the present.
I opened the present.
I took a generous handful. I worked it into the ends, then twenty inches up the length for good measure.