Just About Sex by Ann Christopher

drink so we could talk. We had a drink. We talked. That’s it.”
    Tonya hissed with fury, her nails digging into his thigh like a cat’s. Yelping, Alex jumped to his feet, catching her by surprise. She tumbled over backward, landing on her butt. He reached to help her, but she smacked his hand away and stood up by herself, wobbling precariously on her heels.
    Her eyes narrowed to reptilian slits. “You wanna talk? Well, let’s talk. I’m about to get ethnic on you.”
    He could see that. The pointed index finger, one inch from his nose, as well as the bobbing head and jutting chin had already clued him in. Crossing his arms over his chest, he resigned himself to his fate and said nothing. Really, this was no more than he deserved for being stupid enough to conjure up this demon. Having exorcised her from his life once already, he had no excuse for inviting her back.
    “You ain’t nothing, Alex,” she shrieked. “You know why?”
    Answering never even crossed his mind.
    “Because you don’t care about anybody but yourself! You never talked to me! You never understood me! You never cared for me!”
    Her voice got loud and rhythmic, like a Southern Baptist minister crescendoing at the end of his sermon. “You don’t know nothin’’bout dealin’ wit a woman. You don’t have a clue!”
    You’re clueless.
    Jarred out of his stupor, Alex stared at her. This was the second time he’d heard that today. Maybe there was something to the accusation.
    Grabbing her upper arm, he squeezed it. “You see?” he cried. “This is good information! What am I clueless about? I really want to know!”
    Tonya’s mouth fell open and she clapped both hands to her cheeks, doing a remarkably good imitation of “The Scream.” With a final outraged screech, she wrenched herself free. Whirling, she snatched her purse and took off down the hall as fast as her legs would carry her, muttering all the way.
    His old friend frustration welled in his throat. Wonderful. Nothing he could say, obviously, would make Tonya stay and answer more questions. Well, fine. She could leave.
    But at the door she stopped and pivoted to face him, to his everlasting dismay. Furious tears shimmered in her eyes. “Forget you, Alex!” she shouted.
    In a flash she was out the door and gone, her BMW skidding around the corner and out of sight. Alex watched her go, then slowly, sadly shut the door behind her.
    His first audit, obviously, had not been a success.

Chapter 5
    D owntown, Simone wandered aimlessly through her cavernous apartment, feeling like the only person on the planet. Pushing aside the heavy drapes, she stared out at the glittering city lights against the night sky. The beautiful view only increased her feelings of loneliness and isolation. With nothing else to do, she collapsed on the sofa, arranged a cashmere throw over her lap, and cursed her apartment.
    Oh, how she hated it here.
    An airy, fifth-floor downtown loft, with the open bedroom perched on a platform a few steps above and behind the living room, dining room and kitchen, had seemed like a wonderful, sophisticated idea when she signed the lease two years ago. Lately, though, the walls had started to close in on her.
    This wasn’t home. She didn’t know where home was, but this drafty apartment with nothing green visible from the windows sure wasn’t it. One more Christmas in this sterile, soulless modern apartment would surely drive her right over the edge. Maybe she should give her real estate agent another call. Yeah. First thing in the morning.
    The wall clock said ten-fifteen, and she was no more relaxed than she’d been when she came home at six. Miles Davis’s trumpet wailed from her strategically placed speakers, but she didn’t hear it. Aromatherapy candles—soothing Clean Cotton to help her unwind and get ready for sleep—burned on the boxy coffee table and fireplace mantle, but she didn’t smell them. Nor did she notice the tart taste of her favorite champagne,