Chapter 42 · The Third Hand on the Clock

"—and shall remain cohabitant with the Franchise Principal for the full residency term, seven home dates, or the acceleration clause executes without further notice." Petrie folds the page down at the corner like he's marking his place in a book he plans to keep reading. "That's your wife, Mr. Black. On paper. In this box. In front of everybody who bought a table tonight."

The glass behind him throws his voice back doubled. Sponsors in the tunnel-side seats have stopped pretending to check their phones.

I could walk. Six steps to the door, twelve to the concourse, my name isn't on the ushers' clipboard so nobody stops a woman in a black dress from disappearing into a hallway full of beer taps. I know the math. I did the math in the pump room forty minutes ago with my back against a valve casing and his mouth on my throat, and I'm doing it again now with three hundred watts of camera light finding the side of my face.

I don't move toward the door.

Torin doesn't either.