You, and Paige.”I looked at Paige, and then back at Margot. “Friday afternoons, right?” She nodded. I knew it.“I’ve really done my best not ...o screw up,” Margot continued. “I’m doing better than you, anyway,” she looked at me reproachfully.My heart skipped, exposed. She was right. I’d been wandering a lot lately.The squelchy sounds from Paige’s pussy had stopped. She sat motionless, watching Margot and I navigate the conversation.“So… here we are.” Margot said, looking over at Paige, and then. ‘It’s Deidre. And you are?’ ‘Arnold.’ He shook her hand and then excused himself for a moment. He approached the juke box, inserted a dime into the slot and then searched through its library for a song. The same song he’d played thirty-five years ago. He found it and pressed the play button. Seconds later Sinatra’s voice floated out of the speakers crooning about summer winds blowing in from across the sea. Arnold came back to her and extended his hand. ‘Deidre, would you please honour me with. More

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