Free Redemption For Two by Tobias Tanner Page A

The bottoms to her suit weren’t the usual string tie. They had thin metal hoops so her hips were bare on either side. The top was just two small triangles with a dart, and strings.
    “Happy now?” she asked, tossing her clothes onto the floorboards and climbing into the car. “This thing doesn’t leave much to the imagination.”
    “I’d be happier if you were naked,” he said, pulling out into traffic.
    “I nearly am.”
    “You got curves like a country road.”
    “I’m not eighteen years old anymore, Mick.”
    “You’re only twenty-four,” he said. “And trust me; I’ve been all over that body with a fine toothed comb. Damned thing is perfect, near as I can tell.”
    “I wish that was true.”
    Her eyes shone again with those sudden, unshed tears. He reached out for her hand. She dodged him, but he got it anyway.
    “Slide over here and sit by me,” he said.
    “I don’t want to.”
    “Now would be a good time.”
    Sandy gave him a dose of the big sigh but unbuckled her seat belt and slid over on the seat. The middle belt put her firmly against him, so she couldn’t keep herself from touching him. He put his hand on her left thigh when she was settled and they didn’t say anything to each other all the way home.
    They had a quiet night. The little one was wound up tight when she came home, but frazzled from a hard day at the playground. She settled down with cartoons on the television and an armful of dolls. Mickey got the bills out again, and Sandy went over them while he took notes, and thought about things. She’d fretted and wept over the damned bills for so long that she knew them by heart. Talking about money had always been stressful, but this time was cathartic.
    “All right,” he said at last. “We just need to figure how to do this.”
    “Some of us already know how ,” she said in a sad tone. “It’s the when part that’s killing us, Mickey.”
    “I mean how we actually pay,” he said, and pointed with his pencil. “You make this much. I make...well, not so much, but maybe that’s changing. We have one problem and one question.”
    “Is that all?”
    “The problem is my income not being steady so we can depend on it. We had zip except your paycheck and the tips from the restaurant, and now I’ve got money coming in again. I think that may continue, so let’s figure it will. That leaves us with the distribution question, Sandy, and right now that’s up to you.”
    She blinked at him. “What do you mean, distribution?”
    “We can split the bills, or I’ll pay them. Whichever you like.”
    “But I do that,” she said, surprised. “I mean, I do when I can.”
    “And you worry yourself sick.” He sipped coffee and looked at her. “Here’s the way I see it. Either we divide the bills so that you pay what you can and I pay the rest, or you put your money in the pot and I pay the bills. Simple.”
    “You’d...” She made herself stop, trying to hide the skepticism on her face. “You’ve never paid any attention to the money,” she said finally. “I took the responsibility a long time ago, Mickey.”
    “Because I wouldn’t,” he said, understanding her point. He put the coffee down carefully on the table. “You don’t trust me with the money, babe. I know that.”
    “That’s not what I meant.”
    She was lying. Mickey knew she was. She didn’t trust him, and he wasn’t surprised in the least. Money had always slipped through his fingers like water. He tapped the pencil on the table, suddenly aware of how that mistrust had permeated their marriage and their...well, their friendship.
    “Tell you what,” he said. “If you like, we can do a trial. I can do this, Sandy. I will do it. But it’s like anything else. You have to trust the person with the ball point. We’ll pay bills together, and we’ll figure the budget every month sitting right here at this table. Then one day, maybe soon, you’ll be able to relax and I’ll take care of it on my own, and