Page 101 of Smoky Darling

“Charge me for the tickets.”

She glances at the line of people, “How many?”

I tap the screen, “All of them. Whatever’s left to fill the auditorium.”

“I don’t think we’re gonna sell out.”

“Lou.”

“Okay.” Her eyes are wide, but she taps at the screen, “It’s-” she tilts the screen in my direction, “It’s a lot, Beckett.”

“Will you sit with me?”

My hand hasn’t left her thigh, and I feel her shift as she thinks, “You can’t talk during the play.”

“But you’ll let me sit next to you?” I ask again.

Her nod is slow, but it’s still a nod.

I take my card from her hand and pass it through the reader myself, “Then it’s worth it.”