Damned idiot, he thought to himself.
He'd see to it that this boy got a talking to and had his priorities
straight as well as his head before he came back the next day.
Henry kept his bad mood at bay with difficulty during the drive home
by thinking only of his comfortable chair and a huge drink. . .or two
before dinner. He had just entered the door and placed his briefcase
on the hall table when his wife's voice floated down the stairs,
jarring the hell out of him.
"That you, Henry? Hurry up now and get dressed,
we're due at the Bakers in half an hour."
Henry groaned. "Not tonight, shit!" Then almost immediately,
he recollected that the Bakers were giving a party and it was
most important that he be present. No help for it, he'd have to
bite the bullet. Casting a fond look at his Lazy Boy as he passed
the entrance to the living room, he ascended the stairs feeling like
a doomed man mounting a scaffold.
"You look like death warmed over," his wife, Kate, announced caustically,
as she met him at the top of the stairs.
You're no raving beauty yourself, Henry thought. Kate was
an athletic, slender woman of forty-two.
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