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“It comes down to compatibility … and Roy and I aren’t …” A dour expression brought a faraway look to Julie’s eyes, as though she were focusing on something only she could see.
The vested waiter standing over her with a tray in his hand asked if she’d like a refill on her burgundy, but she didn’t hear him. The buxom brown-eyed woman beside her signaled the impatient man with a shoo of her hand, then returned her pensive gaze to her distraught friend who looked as though she’d been waging an emotional war against something she was too weak to conquer.
True, Julie hadn’t been her convivial self lately and, loving nothing better than a little friendly gossip, Ertha had insisted Julie enjoy the afternoon over a glass of burgundy wine at Henry’s outdoor restaurant where leisure was king and more than one illicit affair had erupted hot and smoky from the tables sizzling with ‘who’s fucking who’ in round-robin gossip.
Besides, Ertha would have felt selfish hoarding the attention from the parade of eligible businessmen strutting their stuff in Gucci shoes and pin-striped suits as they dotted the tables surrounding her, shooting salacious grins in the direction of the black-haired vixen whose amulets and rings caught the shimmering sunlight in penetrating streaks that made any man sit up straight and take notice.
Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.