Shirley picked up a bottle of imported liquor with an elegant sweep of her hand, blinking innocently.
"The thing is, I'm a bit of a germaphobe. Someone as filthy as you really grosses me out. You won't mind if I use a little alcohol to disinfect you first, right?"
I didn't look at her. My gaze went past her, straight to the man behind her. My voice was level.
"Neil. Do I need to remind you that my skin is allergic to alcohol?"
"I'm only going to ask you once. Are you sure you want to go through with this?"
Something flickered across Neil's face. Hesitation.
Before he could open his mouth, Shirley's eyes rimmed red, her voice pitching into a wounded whimper.
"Mr. Sanchez, don't tell me you feel sorry for her. You promised you'd help me get my dignity back today."
"I'm just trying to teach your wife how to be a proper, clean homemaker. All she knows how to do is spend your money and throw jealous fits. How's a woman like that supposed to take care of you?"
"If you think I'm wrong, then just fire me. I'll leave and never come back, so I won't bother either of you ever again!"
Neil's expression melted instantly. He cupped her face and wiped her tears, then turned to me with a deep frown.