Naive Charles Royce (great novels .txt) 📖

method or product, it makes headlines, people flock around it, and his clients make money. And Hillary is his perfect wife. The constant, loyal, and proud companion. Poised, graceful, and personable, she is one of Josh’s biggest fans. And vice versa.

“Oh, lookey here,” Hillary says, pulling out her phone instead of the invitation. “You know, my husband Walter is running late, and I bet I just missed his call. Will you excuse me, please?”

Josh nods, turns around, and begins walking through the enormous crowd at the event. He allows himself to be proud of his accomplishment, this extraordinary event he has created for Élan. So many celebrities, so much media, he thinks. Damn, this is good.

Not paying attention to where he is walking, he bumps into a returning Jenna standing perfectly still. All the blood has drained from her face. She is pale, disengaged.

“Jenna, what’s wrong? Is Tracy okay? Michael? What?” Josh has never seen her like this. “Talk to me, please.”

She slowly scrunches her brow, trying to make sense of what she is about to say. She takes a deep breath.

“They’re at Union Square. Michael just picked up Tracy at her apartment. They were waiting for a cab, just... talking to me.” Jenna’s face has no expression.

“What happened? Jenna, you’re scaring me.” Josh moves closer to her and rests his hand on her shoulder.

“Then Tracy started screaming and handed the phone to Michael. Michael told me a man in a tux just fell down dead, practically in front of Tracy. He’d been shot in the back.” She begins to speak in whispered disbelief. “Michael said there was blood on Tracy’s shoes.”

“What? Oh, Jesus.” Josh takes Jenna’s hand. “Are they okay?”

“Josh... they said they recognized him, the man in the tux,” Jenna continues, finally looking at Josh directly in the eyes. “It was Walter Gordon.”

Josh pauses, looks down, then with widening eyes turns around to Hillary. At the same moment, Hillary drops her cell phone and falls to the ground.

They rush to her side and hold her. Barely coherent, Hillary begins to mutter, “My husband, my husband” over and over.

“I think I just heard him die.”

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