SHE SAID, as the Rolls swung over and pulled to the curb to let her out. “I forgot—it’s Monday. You got a show tonight.” “Two shows,” Artie answered automatically, smiling wanly in the rear-view mirror. “You think we can have a drink after?” she asked. She sounded as if she’d only thought of it now. Already the kid who valeted the cars had come to hold her door, so the moment couldn’t last. They had to get the date down fast. Her entrance was in progress. “Sure,” he said, “why not? You’ll wait up for me?” “Of course. What time should I expect you?” “One, one-thirty,” he said, but as if to apologize for the lateness of the hour. “Fine,” she smiled. She was out of the car so fast that he had no time to ask her why. He was amenable, of course. After all, she’d been away three days, and he hadn’t dreamt of asking where. Saturday morning, when Erika called hysterical from the dock, he’d produced all the proper excuses. The fielding of other people’s outrage came to him second nature.
