Tiring of the loud jazz music pounding in her head, she quickly retreated to the first floor balcony. A quiet escape and a location where she could le... the buzz of champagne wear off. She climbed on the gothic stone guardrail, sat and let her legs swing over the side. She looked down, not too much of a distance between her feet and the ground — five or six feet, maybe — she still didn’t want to risk falling. ‘It’s not worth jumping,’ she heard a voice say behind her. She swung her head around. Her eyes flashed and her face beamed a smile at him before she removed her hand and placed on the table. She looked passed him at her daughter and mouthed for Jon to see but not for Faye to hear, You lucky girl. Then, with a wink she turned her attention to her husband on the other side. Faye watched the maître d’ intently. She knew he was connected with the book. It was his image, only much darker that had really been responsible for her sexual satisfaction. It was also his image that was. More

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