"Hey, Andy!" one of the technicians called as he stood knocking at his wife's dressing room. "If you're looking for Lola I saw her going out right after her spot. I don't think she's in there!"

Reddening like a beet, Andy thanked the man and followed him toward the elevators. Not ever knowing the whereabouts of his wife was humiliating. Damn Lola!

The night air did little to quell Andy's anger and ill-humor as he headed toward the parking lot. What in hell was the use of having a wife if you never knew where she was or what she was doing? If she hardly ever let you touch her? If she smiled perhaps a little too sweetly at all the guys at the studio? He wondered how many of them she had fucked before he married her? That was a subject he dared not to think about! Before she became a weather girl, he knew that she had worked as a secretary on the second floor of the building.

Could he ever call a woman like Lola his?

Andy fitted the key into the door of the Mustang. Before he could turn the key, however, the door opened ever so slightly.

"You're late getting out," a soft, cat-like voice mewed from the front seat.

Andy gaped in surprise as he stared into the face of his wife.

"What?"

"You were expecting maybe someone else?" Lola said teasingly, using the foreign accent she sometimes used when they played together. So she was speaking to him again, even flirting cutely with him just as if she hadn't been acting like an iceberg for the last few days.

Andy shook his head and grimly got into the car. He was going to have a long serious talk with her, that was for sure!

"I certainly wasn't expecting you!" he said angrily as he started the engine.

"Why not? I am your wife!" She leaned forward and pushed in the cigarette lighter as the car slowly left the parking lot.

"You haven't been acting very much like a wife lately," Andy retorted.