by A. W. Gray
Rob looked guardedly toward his escort, then leaned near Sharon and lowered his voice. “I’m relieved I caught you. I need a minute, Muffin.”
Sharon supposed that, God, Rob would use the sickening nickname until one of them went to their grave. She didn’t bother correcting him. “It so happens I have a minute.” Sharon perched on an adjacent stool, leaned on the padded bar, and crossed her legs.
“There’s a problem.” Rob continued to look surreptitiously around him.
“If there wasn’t, you wouldn’t be here,” Sharon said. “What is it?”
“The goddamn bank has frozen my account. Say they’re doing an audit, that the insurance company has stopped payment on a check Curtis Nussbaum deposited.”
Sharon thought that over, then nodded. “Sounds pretty S.O.P. Insurance companies have clauses that if the beneficiary murders the insured there isn’t any payoff. Eventually they’ll have to pay the money into David Spencer’s estate, but they’ll string it out as long as they can. A lot of interest at stake on two million dollars.”
Rob’s expression was desperate. “They’ve fucking paralyzed me.”
Sharon stifled a grin and refrained from laughing out loud. “How about your fifty thousand a week from the show?”
“I don’t get paid until next week. Until then … Christ.” Rob’s voice took on a pleading whine. “Look, Muffin, that check I gave you. Could you…?”
“I’ve already negotiated it, Rob. It’s in my account back in Dallas.”
“I know that. Could you give me a check and return the money? Just for a week or so.”
Sharon stared at him. She couldn’t believe the guy.
Finally she smiled. “So join the crowd, Rob-oh. Payday to payday, that’s the way I’ve been doing it for thirteen years or so.” She balanced her purse on her thigh and snapped it open. “Tell you what, though. I could loan you a couple of hundred bucks for a week, if it would help.” She frowned at him. “I’d have to have it back on payday, Rob. No way could I grant any extensions, you know?”
Melanie said excitedly over the phone, “You’re big news, Mom, you and my dad. Everybody thinks it’s really romantic, that he saved you.”
Sharon paused, selecting her words carefully. “He was really … something to see,” she finally said. She stood at the front of the VIP lounge, using the pay phone. Visible down the way, Rob hunkered over his drink as if contemplating suicide. Over on the right Darla sat alone in a booth, staring vacantly out at the runway. Sharon checked her watch. Twenty minutes until takeoff. She said, “I have to get a move on, Melanie. Just tell Mrs. Winston my flight lands at sixoh-four. If my daughter’s not waiting at the gate to hug my neck, I may break down in tears.”
“We’ll be there, Mom.” There was hesitancy in Melanie’s tone, indicating that she was about to explore territory which she wasn’t certain she should get into. “Mom?” she said.
Sharon blinked patiently. “Yes?”
“The paper says you might have some acting offers. Would we be moving to California if you did? It’s cool if you want to, but …”
Sharon caught Melanie’s concern. Next year she’d be in high school, and moving away from her friends would be a heartbreaker. What acting offers? Sharon thought. News to me. She took a long look at Rob, about to shed tears on the bar, and at Darla, her vacant expression as she sat in the booth all alone. She switched the phone from one ear to the other. “We’re not moving anywhere, Melanie,” Sharon said. “Never in a million, sweetheart. Mark it down. Never in a million years.”