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obtuseness. "No, Mommy, he's a real angel-like on the Christmas tree!"
"Kids!" the woman laughed nervously. "Where do they get their ideas? Now, come
along, Penny-"
Joth fixed Penny's mother with its unblinking gaze. "The father touches her,"
it said as nonchalantly as if it were commenting on the weather. Penny's
mother blinked and wobbled even more than before. She turned to stare in
disbelief at the stranger her daughter had been talking to. He was a tall,
thin, somewhat Native American-looking fellow with long dark hair plaited into
a single braid. Despite a feeling that she knew him from someplace, she did
not recognize his face.
"Do you know who my husband is?!" she asked indignantly.
"He is Page Uxbridge, age forty-nine, owner and proprietor of the Matador
Gallery, located on West 57th Street," Joth replied. The angel's voice was not
loud, nor was it accusatory. "You are Carla Mearig-Uxbridge. You married one
another four-and-a-half years ago, immediately upon the discovery of your
pregnancy. You are his third wife, Penny is his second daughter. His older
daughter, Patrice, is twenty-three. He molested her as well, resulting in his
divorce from his second wife, Yvonne, in 1981..."
000
"I'm very interested in showing your work," Uxbridge said. "I can get you some
real attention-far better than what you'll get in a show like this." The
gallery owner handed Lucy a bright red business card. "Here-promise me you'll
give me a call in a couple of days? I'd love to see what else you have in your
portfolio!"
"I appreciate your interest in my work, Mr. Uxbridge..."
"Page! Please, call me Page!" he smiled, flashing capped teeth.
"Uh, okay, Page ...When would be a convenient time for me to call-?" Uxbridge
abruptly fell silent as he caught sight of something going on at the other
side of the gallery. Curious, Lucy turned to look over her shoulder in the
direction he was scowling. Joth was standing talking to a woman dressed in a
red jacket identical to Uxbridge's. The woman was holding a little girl
dressed in a red corduroy jumper in her arms, and her face was twisted into a
look of anger and hurt, as if she was fighting to keep from bursting into
hysterical tears. Whatever it was Joth was saying to the woman, it was clearly
something she wasn't happy hearing.
Uxbridge jostled his way across the crowded room, his hands balling and
unballing themselves into fists. He grabbed Joth by the shoulder, spinning the
angel around to face him.
"Ohhhh shit," Lucy whispered under her breath, and hurried to intervene.
"What the hell are you doing with my wife?" demanded the gallery owner at the
top of his voice.
Joth stared placidly at Uxbridge. "I am not doing anything with your wife," it
replied evenly.
"That's not what it looked like to me!" Uxbridge moved to put himself between
his wife and Joth. "Carla-are you all right? Did he do anything to you or
Penny?" Uxbridge reached out to put his arm around his wife's shoulder, only
to have her side-step his embrace.
"Don't you touch me!" Carla Uxbridge spat. "Don't you touch me or Penny, you
bastard!"
"Watch your voice. We're in public, remember?" Uxbridge said, speaking through
a clenched smile. "You're drunk again, Carla. You know how you get when you're
drunk!"
"I've had some drinks, but that doesn't mean I'm drunk! I know when I'm drunk!
And I'm not drunk!" Carla insisted. She tossed hack the cascade of ash-blonde
hair out of her face, nearly throwing herself off-balance in the process.
Uxbridge quickly snatched Penny from his wife's arms. "Come on, sweetie!
Mommy's tired and needs to go home..." The gallery owner turned to face Joth,
his voice trembling with rage. "And as for you-! I don't know who you are, but
I never want to see you anywhere near my wife or child ever again!"
"Joth-what's going on here?" asked Lucy, who had just managed to shoulder her
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ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
way through the crowd.
"Mrs. Uxbridge asked me what I knew of her husband, and I told her," explained
Joth, matter-of-factly.
"You know this man?" Uxbridge growled, fixing Lucy with a hostile glare.
"H-he's, um, my roomie," she stammered.
Uxbridge repositioned his daughter into his left arm and shoved his right hand
towards Lucy. "Give me back my card!" he said brusquely.
"What?"
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