"Oh sh--." I shifted Michael higher on my hip, did an about face, andtrotted in the other direction.My son lifter his head from my shoulder and squint...d up at me. "We atMommy's plane yet?"I brushed a few silky strands of his auburn hair behind his ear. "Notyet, pumpkin," I answered as I put on what I hoped was a reassuring smileto hide my worry. It was hard to do when I thought of how he'll probablyreact after he finds out about Theresa's plans to give him a 'decent'haircut. A shudder passed. I reached in and pulled out a big wad of cash. “Well, Rupert,” I said to me, “I bet this means Angel the angel wants me to bid up her box.” I heard the heavenly choir go, “Ah!”“How much do you bid for the rest of her?” Somebody yelled. Everybody laughed.“A hundred dollars for her box,” I yelled and held up a hundred dollar bill.“A hundred and one dollars," Harold yelled back.“Two fucking hundred dollars!” I yelled. And Harold bid a dollar more. And so it went, all the way up to nine hundred. More

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