“He was depressed!” Bonita snorted. “He’d be sitting there in his office and I’d have to go in to get his signature on something. I’d give him a document to
sign and he wouldn’t even read it. It was driving me crazy. He’d only perk up when she was back. He was like her little pet!”
“But he always denied there was anything,” George put in.
“But wouldn’t you do the same, if it were you?” Bonita said. “It wasn’t anything to her. When people would hint at something to her, she would laugh and say,
in that Vietnamese accent, you crazy! If you pressed some more, she would throw a tantrum and everyone had to watch out. She’d leave, and the boss was so terrified of her leaving that
he’d buy her a present. Maybe an even bigger box of Godivas.”
Bonita leaned forward. George looked down the fro
