Dirty Deals by Alan Lee

Author:Alan Lee [Lee, Alan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sparkle Press
Published: 2022-08-31T16:00:00+00:00

Before bed I let Georgina Princess August into the backyard, where she sniffed and did her business. I checked every door to ensure they were locked. Looked in on Kix—he was sleeping soundly. Looked in on Manny—he was out, lost in the night, revoking the freedom of the wicked. Brushed my teeth. Flossed. Gargled with mouthwash. And wondered why Ronnie’s nighttime bed-prepping process lasted so much longer than mine.

She was in bed and I gleaned through minuscule behavioral subtleties that she was too tired and distracted for romance, and so it was with a normal, steady heartbeat that I got into bed beside her.

“Are you worried?” she said.

“About Marcus. No.”

“Why not?”

“It’s out of my control. I try not to worry about things over which I have no input,” I said.

“That’s fine. But I’m not asking what mental activity you’ll allow yourself. I’m asking about your emotional state.”

“To me they’re closely related. But here’s a more thorough account of my emotional state…” I reclined against my pillow—goose down with a silk cover because my wife was extra—and gazed at the ceiling. “This new guy, Doyle, seems to be a player to take seriously, but my expectation is that Marcus exaggerated the danger. I’m confident he can handle his business, and I’m willing to help, though I hope I don’t have to.”

“There’s no fear? No dread?”

I took a quick survey of the processes between my ears and inside my chest.

“I don’t think so,” I said.

“One of your good friend’s life has been threatened.”

“Walking out the door every morning is a risk. If the risk heightens, we handle it,” I said.

She fell quiet, but we weren’t done. Her muscles were tense and her jaw was set forward. I laced my hands across my stomach and waited.

Ronnie looked youngest without her makeup—the mascara and concealer and the other expensive creams and powders she put on her face made her look more mature, more flawless. But without, her skin was fresh. Her eyelashes natural and unburdened. Without she was less ready for a photoshoot, true, but closer to innocence, to being a girl, a girl who hadn’t lived through the uglier side of life. A girl who’d been forced to grow-up far earlier than she should’ve, a girl who had her innocence stolen through death and sin.

She said, “Earlier I asked Marcus about his marriage. You’re correct—the divorce case with Charlotte has me thinking about the nature of happiness and marriage, and my part in it. I’m not struggling with it, but I’m working through it. What are you working through?”

I didn’t answer. But I did squint my eyes to let her know I’d heard.

“I’m usually the one who will share what’s happening inside, Mackenzie. The good and the bad. And when I ask, you comment that you try not to think about things. But you do. You’re human,” she said. “The things you think about, or struggle with, or work through, they don’t have to pertain to our relationship. But if they do, I’m desperate to hear them.

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