"I'll drink to that." Margret downed what remained in her beer glass,then snapped her fingers at me and pointed. I scurried off to thekitchen, fetched...another few beers, knelt at my wife's feet, carefullypoured one into her glass, then stood and curtsied."It's good to be the queen!" proclaimed a satisfied Margret. She tookanother sip, patted the cushion next to her, and I rejoined her on thesofa."Now, that's exactly what I've been thinking about... our lifestyle. Notonly are you an efficient,. Shit.But also, the loud rock music that usually came from his daughter's room upstairs wasn't to be heard, either. Strange.He began to grow nervous again. Maybe she'd left. Maybe his little girl had hiked up to the police station, or was at a neighbor's house. Or maybe, he thought optimistically, she simply ran away. Maybe she was on the streets of the Cleveland ghetto right now, officially becoming the whore he knew she was.Then he saw her little silver purse on the kitchen counter. She hadn't. More

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