'Night, Kris.'
She started to walk away. Kris stopped her.
'Amanda. I want to apologize for Howard. The way he was acting the other night.'
'Howard? He's a sweetheart. He was fine.'
'It seemed to me he was… sticking too close.
Smothering you.'
'He gets a kick out of the technical stuff, that's all.
He's a big kid, asking me to explain how every button works. Okay, it can be a pain in the ass, but it's cute.' 'I used to feel that way,'
Kris said.
'But I think, in your case, he's interested in more than pushing buttons.'
Amanda stepped closer.
'What's that mean?'
Kris wondered how much she should say. She and Amanda were not exactly friends-their personalities were too contrary for true amity-but they had worked together for two years, and two years in TV news was a time period measured on a geologic scale.
'The thing is,' Kris said slowly after looking around to be sure no one was listening, 'Howard's kind of unreliable.'
Amanda frowned.
'How am I supposed to interpret that?'
'The obvious way.'
'You're saying he goes out dancing behind your back?'
'That's what I suspect.'
'It sure doesn't seem like him. He strikes me as the old-fashioned sort.'
'Appearances can be deceptive. He has a wandering eye, but I don't know if it's gone beyond that. It could have.'
Amanda pursed her lips, not shocked, merely intrigued.
'You mean he might be… you know… right now?'
'I can't say. It's just a suspicion.'
'Based on?'
'Too many unexplained absences. Too much driving around aimlessly. He says he's breaking in his new car.
It's possible. He does love his toys. But I don't know.
And once I walked in on him while he was sending email, and he shut down the program fast, as if it was something he didn't want me to see.'
'E-mail love notes?' Amanda looked dubious.
'Haven't you heard of cybersex?' Kris shrugged.
'It's a new millennium. People don't send sonnets anymore, or even regular love letters, I suppose.' Except for Hickle, a voice at the back of her mind added.
Amanda shook her head.
'Have you discussed this with him? Does he know you're on to him?'
'He doesn't know anything. Courtney, our housekeeper, is my informer.
She confided in me after… after Howard came on to her.'
'Right in your own house? Divorce the bastard.'
'We can work it out.'
'Not if you two don't start talking.'
'We will when this stalker thing is over. When it's taken care of.'
Amanda sighed.
'I thought you two were a happy couple. You know, the kind who get a perfect score on the Cosmo compatibility test.'
'I used to think we were. Now I don't… I…' She couldn't talk about this anymore.
'Look, I just wanted to say I'm sorry if he was getting in your way last night.'
'Forget about it.' Amanda glanced at her watch.
'I've gotta run, but tomorrow if we have time, let's talk, okay? Heart to heart?'
Kris smiled.
'I never took you for the sob sister type.'
'It's an unfamiliar role for me, but I can handle it.'
She gave Kris's arm a comforting squeeze.
'Hang in there, kid.'
Kris watched her walk away. She knew there would be no heart-to-heart conversation tomorrow, because there would be no time. In TV news there was never time for anything. That was all right. She wasn't sure she wanted to further unburden herself to a woman who, after all, was one of Howard's fantasy conquests.
She looked past the computers and gray metal desks to the row of wall clocks set to different time zones.
California time was seven-forty-five. Better get moving.
She needed to grab a late dinner and read the script and touch up her cosmetics and hair. Of these three items her personal appearance was the main concern.
It seemed she spent a lot more time in the makeup room since turning forty.
'Funny how that works,' she murmured. She must have a streak of masochism to have chosen a profession in which success was so utterly dependent on youth and beauty, then to have compounded her error by choosing a husband whose priorities ran along the same lines.
Hickle knew there must be something he could say to bring his date with Abby to the proper conclusion.
In the movies people were always saying clever things. Why was it so much harder in real life?
He mulled over the problem as the elevator carried him and Abby to the fourth floor. Even when he escorted her down the hall to her door, he had not found a solution.
'Well,' Abby said, 'here we are.'
This was his moment. He had to go for it. Be spontaneous.
'It was fun,' he managed.
Damn, that was no good. Any jerk could have come up with that. But Abby surprised him by smiling in reply.
'A blast,' she said.
'Your taste in restaurants is excellent.'
'Oh, well… I work in a restaurant, remember?' He wasn't sure why he repeated his earlier lie.
'I remember. Maybe I'll drop by sometime for a free meal.'
Caught, he had to think fast.
'The owner frowns on that,' he answered, hoping he sounded casual.
'But you never know. We'll see.' He decided to quit while he still could.
'Good night, Abby.'
'Night.'
He wondered if he was supposed to kiss her. He had never kissed a girl, except for Priscilla Gammon in the third grade, whom he had smooched on a dare.
Priscilla had screamed and called him gross and wiped her mouth elaborately with her sleeve, and for the next two weeks whenever she had seen him she'd made retching noises. He doubted Abby would do anything like that. Still, he'd better not risk it.
'Good night,' he said again, pointlessly.
Abby smiled, unlocking her door.
'Don't let the bedbugs bite-which in this place is more than just an expression.'
He nodded, not knowing what to say. He went on nodding until she disappeared inside her apartment.
