She’d fixed her eye make-up, not much of a chore as she wore less of it these days. Her suit lay on the bed in her tiger-striped lair. Clint had helped her out of the troublesome skirt with the stuck zipper. She’d packed only an overnight bag to make this trip and was already back into her boots, jeans, and a casual top. Clint watched her with a worried look on his face. “What’s the matter, handsome? Did I tell you how great you looked in that suit before you got blood and barf all over it? I don’t know if the blood will come out of that silk tie, though. Frankly, I didn’t know Bodey Landrum owned any real ties; he’s so cowboy. And you say you borrowed that suit from him, too? Isn’t Bodey an inch or so shorter than you? Looks like someone tailor-made it for you. Maybe a good dry cleaner will be able to get the stains out and repair the tears.” Hating her fake cheeriness, Clint answered, “Yeah, I got the suit over at Bodey’s. He won’t care about the damage. Renee, don’t you think you need to have a long talk with your father and sister before you go anywhere?”
