By Leslie H. Edgerton
ISBN-10: 0585329559
ISBN-13: 9780585329550
ISBN-10: 1574410261
ISBN-13: 9781574410266
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Sample text
Not from traveling in the same circles, but from the paper. The man was Charles Lacy Deneuve, socialite, heir, and any other damned adjective you could tie to money. Old money. Uptown money. There was a story about Deneuve that showed how much money he had. He had this big yacht he kept out at Pontchartrain that he used to give all these big to-dos on, and one time he had this big dinner party with the mayor, the governor, the Mafia big-shot, even the Metry sheriffthat's how big the gig wasand it starts to sprinkle.
C. Hammer was blaring from a boom box, one of fifty thousand sound-alike songs. " I said. " That was all she said. Oh, Ted. We sat there in dinner party formality for a few moments and just sipped our drinks. After a time I looked over at her and she was looking down in her lap where her hands were folded. She hadn't touched her drink. Mine was half-gone, a wounded soldier. "I thought for awhile that perhaps we might still make it," she started, and that's when I began to close up inside. " I said, before I could stop myself.
My "yes" came out bent. I was drunk. There was an aitch on the end of my yes. "You said something. Goddamn you. You said the only thing that would keep me married to you for nineteen miserable fucking years. I still love you for what you said. No, I hate you for saying it. It's kept me in a holy prison. " She wasn't slurring her words like I was, but she never said fuck unless she was totally smashed. She must have had a few before she came by the hotel. Probably why she was late. She was looking away from me again.
Monday's Meal: Stories by Leslie H. Edgerton
by David
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