This was the card Leila Galloway had given me. Before we left the house, she'd taken my own card, insisting that since it was my birthday, the bill should be on her.
I'd been so touched at the time. I'd even congratulated myself on finding such a thoughtful, reasonable wife.
But now she was nowhere to be found. I'd called her dozens of times—no answer.
If this card didn't work, I was going to have a problem.
The manager's expression shifted from polite to impatient.
"Mr. Dickerson, do you have another card you can use?"
"Just so we're clear—we don't do tabs here. You knew that after what happened last month, right?"
Of course I remembered. Last month, Leila's assistant had gone on a spending spree with the card she gave him, then called me a kept man, a useless live-in husband.
Could it be...
A bad feeling crept over me. Was this Leila's way of getting revenge for what I'd done to her assistant?
Just as the thought crossed my mind, the click of heels echoed from the entrance. I spun around—and there was Leila Galloway walking in with her arm around Jacob Delgado, whose face was twisted with hatred as he looked at me.