Chapter 9The radio whispered softly as they hit the freeway, Jude Calohan at the wheel, his wife in the passenger seat looking fretful and concerned, dressed smartly in black, a line of pearls about her neck, her handbag in her lap.
Despite being little more than his wife’s chauffeur, Jude found Marta’s nervousness infectious, his anxiety mounting the further they got from Bower Bliss and the closer they got to Austin. In his chest, he felt that familiar itch, feeling the weight of that familiar red and white carton of cigarettes in his shirt pocket, unable to do anything about it for fear of his wife’s disapproval. And so, he simply concentrated on the road ahead, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, humming a line or two to whatever song played upon the radio.
“Stop being s
