Page 12 of Lucky Night

Yes! she says. Actually, no. He’s going to be aDO.

His story is changing already.

It’s the same thing! She’s trying so hard not to laugh. He’s going to whatchamacallit. Osteopathy school. He’ll be able to do everything an MD cando.

Plus cut and color, he says.

Why are you making fun of Herve?

Hurvagain. He can’t let it pass. That’s not how you pronounce that name.

That’s how Herve pronounces it.

It’s French. You pronounce itAirv.

Yeah, well, I’ll be sure to letAirvknow he’s been saying his own name wrong for thirty-five years.

You’re making this up, he says.

I am not!

You are lying! He jumps up from the sofa, pointing at her. There’s no party! There’s probably not even anHurv! Admit it—you’re using random and ridiculous inventions to lure me out of this room.

She’s laughing now, helplessly. Why would I lie about that?

Sweetheart? he says. That is the mystery of all fucking mysteries.

She’s fully dressed. She strides to the bathroom and returns with her phone. She taps and scrolls and holds it out to him, magnificent in her anticipatory vindication.

You’re going to feel very bad that you doubted me, she says.

Get over here, Jenny.

Read the email, Nick.

Take off your clothes, he says, and climb onto my cock. Right now.

Read the fricking email!

He takes her phone. Reads.

Well well. It looks like Herve McIntyre (O my America!) is in fact having a going-away party at a wine bar a few blocks away. He’d love to see you before he leaves for Kansas, so please stop by between six and nine.

He hands the phone back to her.

Apology accepted, she says.

He grabs her wrist and yanks her onto the sofa. She is laughing, slapping at him.

You asshole! Leave me alone!

Impossible. Not being able to leave her alone—one of the prevailing conditions of his life for the past six years. He gathers her and stands up, staggering a little (oh the old bones!), lurches over to the bed and throws her onit.

He’s got her now, caught her whole. He crouches on top of her, pinning her arms down, kissing her neck, biting and sucking. He’s naked, she’s fully dressed. This is unusual. She’s almost always naked before he is, the removal of her clothing being his utmost priority. But he likes this reversal. The feeling of her fabrics on his bare skin. He is lesser. An animal. Savage.

And yet, away you must go, Jenny’s clothes. Off and away, you, you what?Gown and girdle.Youspangled breastplate.Amazing how the lines come back to him.

He called her sweetheart. That made her melt a little, even though he was teasing when he said it. Has he ever called her sweetheart before? Honey, a few times, offhand. Lady mine, when he’s in his mock-heroic mode. Also sweet queen, which is a quote, she doesn’t remember from what. He’s not big on endearments. Not with her, anyway. Though sometimes, the way he says her name, whispers it right in her ear when he’s on top of her, like he is now—

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