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"You're being wonderful about it, honey," she
said as she leaned down to
kiss him on the forehead.
Just then Michael came downstairs, wearing a pair of old gym shorts and
socks. No shoes and no shirt.
"You'll have to put a shirt on," Joe said. "It's one of her house
rules."
"Oh. Okay, yes, sir," Michael said respectfully. "I'll see if I can
find something. Only thing is, everything I brought was laundry. I
don't know if I have a clean T-shirt."
"I'll get you one of mine, then after supper you can get your laundry
caught up," Joe said as he got up from the table.
Michael followed him upstairs to his and Linda's bedroom where he dug
out a clean T-shirt.
"Are you as nervous as I am?" the younger man asked.
"No, why should I be?" Joe said. It was a lie, but it gave him the
upper hand.
"I guess you're right. It's your house, your turf."
"And my wife," Joe added.
"Yeah....."
They went back downstairs where Linda served up Michael's supper. She
poured coffee for her and Jim. There was silence around the table,
with furtive glances and nervous smiles. Michael choked down his food
between answering questions about his job. Except that he would be
bringing in some money, Joe didn't give a dam about his job but he
liked seeing the guy so nervous. It surprised him a little after the
confidence he displayed in the bar. He finished eating, Joe thought,
before he'd had enough; he just wanted to break up the situation around
the table.
"Well, I...I think I'll go on upstairs," Michael said.
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