Page 133 of Consummation

Henn laughs. “I think hemighthave an addiction.”

“Ya think?” I say.

“So, hey, I went through the dude’s computer like you asked me to,” Henn says. “You were right—he’s totally cheating on his wife. Like, compulsively.”

“Yeah, I figured. A leopard doesn’t change his spots.”

“The guy’s a scumbag,” Henn says. “I literallyhatehim.”

“Welcome to the club,” I say.

“I went through his wife’s phone and laptop just to get the lay of the land and she’s a total sweetheart—a genuinely good person. Clearly, she’s got no idea who she’s married to.”

“Not surprised at all.”

“So are you gonna rat him out?”

“I wish I could so badly—but, no, I wasn’t planning to, for the sake of the wife.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s the right call. It’s not really our place to ruin her life. But it kills me. They’re trying to have a baby—doing hard-core fertility treatments. I hope one way or another she finds out she’s married to a cheating scumbag before she gets pregnant with the guy’s kid.”

“So you think we should rat him out, after all?” I ask.

“No,” Henn says. “It’s really not our place, man. That’s not the mission.”

I sigh. “Damn. I would have loved to decimate that cocksucker in every conceivable way.”

“Oh, well. I guess even a guy as awesome as you can’t have everything, Josh.”

I look down at Kat’s beautiful, sleeping face. “Actually, I’m beginning to think he can.”

“Wait. So youdowanna tell the wife about his extracurricular activities?”

“No, sorry. I wasn’t referring to ratting him out. Kat’s asleep on me. I was looking at her face when I said that.”

“Oh, well, I can see why you’d say that, then.”

“Kat’s totally drooling right now,” I say, chuckling.

Henn laughs. “Yeah, but I bet it’s reallyprettydrool.”

“Actually, it is.” I smile to myself. “Okay, yeah, I agree,” I say. “We don’t tell the wife she’s married to the world’s biggest scumbag.”

“Not today, anyway. I might not be able to control myself tomorrow. I make no promises.”

“Hey, you gotta follow your conscience, baby,” I say. “I trust you. But just not today.”

“Okay. Got it, boss.”

“So can we somehow make sure the wife’s not there when Kat and I arrive?”

“You should be good. Her iPhone says she’s got an appointment at a hair salon ten miles from their house. She left about fifteen minutes ago. Don’t women’s hair appointments at hoity-toity salons take at least an hour or so? Her appointment’s at one of those really fancy places where they give you cucumber water and wash your hair, so she should be gone a while.”

“That’s your definition of a fancy salon?” I say. “They give you water and a shampoo?”

“Hey, I go to Supercuts, man. What do I know?”

“You do? Oh, I totally couldn’t tell that from looking at you, Henn.”

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