Hinky (6)

“Do you always have to show up here in that uniform?” was her greeting, which recalled Clive’s first words to him. “It sends the wrong message to the neighbors.”

“I don’t have to show up here at all,” he told his ex-wife. “You insist on cash and I’m not going to send it through the mail. So either you come to me, I come to you or you can do without.”

“I did without when we were together. That was enough for me.”

Yates noticed copies of Cosmopolitan on the coffee table. She’d gotten a subscription apparently.

“I’m going for a doctor this time,” she said noticing that he was noticing.

“Do you have any magazines that tell you what to do with a man after you’ve got him?”

“What would be the point?”

Yates handed her the envelope and turned to leave.

“Can I as you a question?” she used her softer I-used-to-love-you voice. “Why do you always put it in an envelope?”

“It’s customary and usual for blackmail payments.”

“At least I didn’t ask for alimony,” she answered in a demonstration of what she thought of as humor.

Yates looked at her, trying to see what it was that had attracted him to her back when. There was a hint of it, but not enough to spark any nostalgia.

“They’ll never promote you, you know. You’re damaged goods. Your only hope is to get famous or smart and I’ll lay eight-to-five against either.

As Yates went out the front door, she called after him, “Next time, keep your mouth shut in the sack. You can’t trust women and I can’t afford to be splitting this with anyone.”

More to follow...

(c) 2006 Stephen Mitchell