Page 101 of Lucky Night

Nick…

I’m a big boy, Jenny, I can handle criticism.

She takes a swig of wine. Courage!

He says you’re way too impressed with yourself and not nearly as funny as you think you are. He also hates how you always interrupt him when he talks.

I see. Is that it? He reaches for the hotel notepad. Or should I start making a list? We could divide his complaints into categories, and—

Why do you care, Nick? You don’t like him, either.

Yes, but I have good reasons. Tom is a complete—

Nope! she says.

Fine. But for the record? I only interrupt him because he talks too slowly. Not to mention that his conversation is about as stimulating as watching algae bloom on a retention pond.

So this is how big boys handle criticism? she says. Good to know.

He stares at her. Then he laughs.

What the fuck, Jenny? I can’t believe you never toldme!

Crazy, right? It’s almost like I had a premonition about how well you’d takeit.

Hold on. I didn’t know you when he cheated. Weren’t you still in the city?

She nods. The condition got added after we moved to town, and he got to know you.

Only one condition, he muses. Yet you violated it. You couldn’t help but taste the forbidden fruit.

Oh God. She covers her face. I should have known you’d twist this into some huge compliment.

I am a massive egotist, after all. But it sounds like I should be even more impressed with myself than I am. I’m irresistible.

Only to me, she says. I always go weak at the knees when some drunk asshole starts eating my jewelry.

He bursts out laughing. You’re really something tonight.

What kind of something? she says.

Honestly? Kind of a bitch.

She laughs. Mortal peril will do that to a person.

You called me sweetheart a minute ago, he says. You never call me any sort of endearment.

He’s right about that. She trained herself to be careful, early on. Not to give herself away.

He takes their glasses to the minibar and pours them both more wine. What do you call Tom? In your tender moments, I mean. After some of that solid sex.

She thinks about it. Babe. Tommy. Sometimes we call eachother babyloves, but that’s only because we’re making fun of another couple.

The Goldmans, right? They’re disgusting! And totally sincere about it, too. Oh, hey. Brian’s looking excited about something.

She reaches for the remote and bumps up the volume.

…planning is in the preliminary stages, but we’re told the FDNY is exploring the possibility of evacuating via the rooftop, using helicopters and—

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