Page 106 of Shame the Devil

Yeah, that wasn’t happening. No way. She didn’t think he was good enough? He was going tobegood enough.

“You don’t need to look like that,” Jennifer said. “Like you won. You didn’t win.”

“Oh,” he said, “I think I did. You know what? I think so.”

43

The Bigger Man

Jennifer was sittingin a chair on her driveway in the mid-May sunshine, trying to hold firm in her mind to her rock-bottom price of eighty dollars for her actually pretty nice couch, when a black pickup pulled up. Afamiliarblack pickup.

Mark Mathison got out of it, looking fit and handsome and long-legged. Also annoyed.

He came over to her table, hitched up his belt like he’d forgotten he wasn’t in uniform, did the manspreading thing, and said, “What, you’re moving?”

Jennifer said, “Excuse me, please. I’m in the middle of something. What price could you pay?”

Mark snorted like that was the worst bargaining he’d ever heard, which it probably was. The young brunette, with her hair in a ponytail, a toddler by the hand, and a baby in a stroller who was chewing on the ear of a stuffed dog, checked her wallet and said, “I could do sixty, I think. I just found a job, finally, and we were able to get a place of our own again, is why I want the couch. It’s so nice, not messed up and stained like all the other ones I’ve seen, but I just …” She blew out a breath. “Can you hang on while I call my husband?”

Jennifer said, “You can have it for sixty, if you can haul it away today. I don’t have a truck.”

“Really?” The woman’s entire face lit up. “Thank you. That’s so … that’s great.” She handed over the bills. “Could you hang on to it for me? Just for the rest of the day? My husband’s at work until four, but I’ll have him come over the second he’s done. And if you need any help moving stuff back into the house or anything, he could give you a hand.”

“Sure,” Jennifer said. “I’ll hold on to it until then. And hey. If you want some curtains, too—go on and take them.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. Hey, I’ve been there. And congratulations on the new place. That’s such a great feeling, isn’t it?”

The other woman, who couldn’t be more than twenty-five, blinked back tears and said, her voice choked, “Thanks. It’s just … everything costs so much, you know?”

“Hey.” Jennifer stood up, reached across the table, and gave her a hug. “I know.”

The woman gulped the tears back, fished in her diaper bag for a tissue, and said, “Thanks. I mean it,” before she moved off to check out the curtains.

Jennifer wrote SOLD on a sticky note with a Sharpie, stuck some tape onto it, and told Mark, “Since you’re here, go stick that on the couch, would you?”

He took it, but he didn’t go. He said, “You’re a terrible negotiator. She was probably lying anyway. You’re way too soft.” With a smile, like she was an idiot, but she was cute. She was familiar with that attitude.

“That why you came over here?” she asked. “To tell me that? You could’ve saved yourself a trip. I already knew it. And my compassion isn’t for sale for twenty bucks. It’s not for sale at all.”

“Hey,” he said. “Don’t be like that. I’ve been thinking about you a lot, that’s all, and I had the day off and thought—why not swing by? You’re looking great, by the way.”

Since she was wearing cotton drawstring shorts, a red V-necked T-shirt, and no makeup, and also had her hair pinned on top of her head in an “oh-my-gosh-it-is-unseasonably-warm-and-I-am-moving-furniture” kind of way, she had a feeling she knew what he was referring to. “You mean my boobs are looking great. And I’m guessing you haven’t found anybody else who’s willing to have sex with you whenever you want itandcook your dinner half the time.”

He said, “That’s harsh. Maybe I haven’t found somebody as sweet as you, how about that? And can I help it if I notice my favorite parts first?”

“I still look fat in clothes, though,” she said. “And I’ve decided I’m not that sweet,” then broke off to sell her dining-room table and chairs. Ninety-five bucks. Could have been worse.

“Aw, babe,” he said, when she was done. “Don’t be like that. I was mad, that’s all. You attacked me out of the blue, after four years together, and then you dumped me. What do you expect?”

In answer, she stood up, took the Post-It out of his hand, said, “Watch my cash box,” and went over to stick the sign on the couch.

When she came back, he was staring at her. Squinty-eyed. He said, “Wait. Wait. You’re selling all your stuff, and you’re … no, you’re not. You would’ve told me.”

“Yep,” she said. “I’m pregnant. Four months.”

He went pale under his tan. She hadn’t realized that was actually a thing, but she knew it now. She waited for him to say something, but he didn’t. He just stood there, counting backward in his head like he was watching his life collapse around him.