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Authors: Evan Marshall
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took over . Hey Slut, she announced from the seat next to me on the plane. You didnât think I could stay away for long, did you? Okay, where shall I start? Cindy had obviously given her the yellow pad of paper from the hotel. Not only did you cheat on your husband, you promised to marry another guy who, incidentally you lied to and told you were a widow. What kind of a shallow twit are you? Is this the way to treat people? Reilly is a good man and you killed him. This takes the cake for the most selfish thing youâve ever done in your life, except of course for the C LOSED F OR B USINESS sign you hung on your uterus.
But I love Matt, Passion defended. This is my one true love. How can I go on living with Reilly when I know Iâm in love with someone else? And whatâs more, Matt loves me too. We can finally have a chance at happiness. I have one shot at happiness, why shouldnât I take it? Itâs not like Reilly and I have children.
No, itâs not, is it? Guilt asked smugly. And whose idea was that? Who cut off all possibilities that Reilly will ever have children, cruel double entendre completely intended.
Reilly is a good man. He deserves a wife who loves him. That is not me. I am really doing him a favor. This was a duet played by Passion and my Inner Male. You should have gotten out years ago, but itâs not too late for Reilly to find someone new if you let him go now.
I hate to bring this up during your time of euphoria, Prudence, but where exactly has Matt been for the last fourteen years? Common Sense asked. He got rid of you like gum on the bottom of his shoe and now suddenly he wants to marry you? Where is your loyalty? Where is your commitment? Where is your head?!
People change, Passion explained. Let Matt be who he is today. Forgive him for yesterday and enjoy a happy life together.
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It became too busy in my head so I decided to call Mattâs home in Los Angeles from the plane. I knew he wouldnât be home, but I was dying to hear what kind of outgoing message was on his answering machine. I slid my credit card through the plane phone and swore I heard my Mastercard giggle as it was enveloped by the slot in the receiver.
âHey, itâs Matt. Iâm out right now. You know what to do,â his machine announced. God, this man is hot. You know what to do. But I didnât. I had no idea what to do. What exactly does a woman with a fiancé and an undead husband on opposite ends of the country do?
âHi. Itâs me. Malone,â I shouted into the phone. âI just wanted to say hi, so, um hi.â
My status as sexiest woman heâs ever known is in a precarious state right now.
âCall me when you get home, okay?â
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C ORPORATE R EDEMPTION shouted the headline of Time . The cover shot was of Paul Lofton, the tire manufacturer who donated $75 million to a scholarship fund in Malaysia last month after his father died and left the company to him. That in and of itself was newsworthy, but the new heir of the black rubber empire said the donation was not charity, but rather redemption for years of exploitation of the good people of Malaysia. Youâd think at that point his board of directors would call an emergency session where they subsequently stripped the flesh off his body and grilled it for a weekend barbecue. Youâd think the companyâs lawyers would go ape-shit at the prospect of being sued by everyone from Malaysian workers to stockholders. Actually, the attorneys did go berserk, but with no good reason because no one ever filed a claim. No, instead of being branded a hillbilly Jesus freak, fired by his board and sued by everyone, Paul Lofton became a corporate folk hero. Heâs called Johnny Tireseed. I remember the quote from the Wall Street Journal story. âWe dâunt done nothing illegal, but we still wâunt right. Todayâs the redeeminâ.â I saw him interviewed on Larry King a
But I love Matt, Passion defended. This is my one true love. How can I go on living with Reilly when I know Iâm in love with someone else? And whatâs more, Matt loves me too. We can finally have a chance at happiness. I have one shot at happiness, why shouldnât I take it? Itâs not like Reilly and I have children.
No, itâs not, is it? Guilt asked smugly. And whose idea was that? Who cut off all possibilities that Reilly will ever have children, cruel double entendre completely intended.
Reilly is a good man. He deserves a wife who loves him. That is not me. I am really doing him a favor. This was a duet played by Passion and my Inner Male. You should have gotten out years ago, but itâs not too late for Reilly to find someone new if you let him go now.
I hate to bring this up during your time of euphoria, Prudence, but where exactly has Matt been for the last fourteen years? Common Sense asked. He got rid of you like gum on the bottom of his shoe and now suddenly he wants to marry you? Where is your loyalty? Where is your commitment? Where is your head?!
People change, Passion explained. Let Matt be who he is today. Forgive him for yesterday and enjoy a happy life together.
Â
Â
It became too busy in my head so I decided to call Mattâs home in Los Angeles from the plane. I knew he wouldnât be home, but I was dying to hear what kind of outgoing message was on his answering machine. I slid my credit card through the plane phone and swore I heard my Mastercard giggle as it was enveloped by the slot in the receiver.
âHey, itâs Matt. Iâm out right now. You know what to do,â his machine announced. God, this man is hot. You know what to do. But I didnât. I had no idea what to do. What exactly does a woman with a fiancé and an undead husband on opposite ends of the country do?
âHi. Itâs me. Malone,â I shouted into the phone. âI just wanted to say hi, so, um hi.â
My status as sexiest woman heâs ever known is in a precarious state right now.
âCall me when you get home, okay?â
Â
Â
C ORPORATE R EDEMPTION shouted the headline of Time . The cover shot was of Paul Lofton, the tire manufacturer who donated $75 million to a scholarship fund in Malaysia last month after his father died and left the company to him. That in and of itself was newsworthy, but the new heir of the black rubber empire said the donation was not charity, but rather redemption for years of exploitation of the good people of Malaysia. Youâd think at that point his board of directors would call an emergency session where they subsequently stripped the flesh off his body and grilled it for a weekend barbecue. Youâd think the companyâs lawyers would go ape-shit at the prospect of being sued by everyone from Malaysian workers to stockholders. Actually, the attorneys did go berserk, but with no good reason because no one ever filed a claim. No, instead of being branded a hillbilly Jesus freak, fired by his board and sued by everyone, Paul Lofton became a corporate folk hero. Heâs called Johnny Tireseed. I remember the quote from the Wall Street Journal story. âWe dâunt done nothing illegal, but we still wâunt right. Todayâs the redeeminâ.â I saw him interviewed on Larry King a
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