"And where will you be speaking,
Matthew, Sea World?
More composed now, Laurence eyed her tormentor with plain
contempt. "This is not what you think, Mrs. Locke," she said.
"Butt out. This business is between my husband and I." She
flicked the form into Matthew's lap, then slapped a gold pen down
on the table. "Sign it."
"Greta! This is for a quarter-million dollars," he said, his
voice disbelieving. "What the hell are you doing?"
She gave her husband an impatient look. "Matthew, either you shut
up and sign that, or I walk out there and announce your fishy
little affair with Flipper here."
He considered this, looked down at the form. "I hope you know
what you're doing," he said, and picked up the pen.
"What the hell is so funny?" Greta asked, noticing Laurence's
apparently merry expression as she watched Matthew's hand
squiggling across the form. For the briefest instant, Laurence's
smile intensified when she met Greta's eyes. At this stare-down,
Greta lost.
Matthew shoved the pen and the transfer document across the
table, then crossed his arms and stared down at the ruined lunch
like an angry child.
Greta collected the form and folded it neatly, a triumphant smile
on her face. Matthew shook his head in disgust as the slip
disappeared into her purse with a snap. His anger was complete.
At this point he was only thankful she was leaving immediately,
without causing him any further embarrassment.
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