Pygmalion, Part 3

The following story is fictional and is provided solely for the enjoyment 
of its readers. While there are references to actual establishments such as 
major corporations, smaller companies, restaurants and locations, the 
characters in the story are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to a real 
person either living or dead is completely coincidental. Several 
non-fictional characters (celebrities) make brief cameo appearances. Their 
role is purely fictional and no way linked to their actual lives. This 
fictional account does contain adult language and themes. If such language 
and themes offend you, please read no further. This story is copyrighted by 
AZ-MAN, 2000, all rights reserved. Permission is granted to reproduce it in 
any form and for any purpose as long as this notice is reproduced and no 
financial remuneration is received, directly or indirectly, by the person 
reproducing it. 



A final thanks - to SSTORYMAN for his support, guidance and friendship. 

Should you have any comments, please feel free to respond to 
azman2k@yahoo.com. 







PYGMALION 
Part 3 of 10 


6. Trouble in Paradise 

The weeks seemed to fly by. The late-summer monsoon season had settled upon 
Arizona. Along with its characteristic oppressive tropical heat, 
high-reaching cumulus clouds would boil up in the mountains north of the 
valley, blow in and unleash random, torrential thunderstorms just after 
sunset. Beth found she liked the lightning and rain. It temporarily cooled 
things off. Sometimes after a storm, she would go for a quick late evening 
run. 

She had gotten into a very comfortable routine at the plant and was 
enjoying her work immensely. Between her 10 to 12 hours of work at Motorola 
and several hours at LA Fitness, Beth was rarely found at her condo. She 
had also gotten to know another fitness buff named Heather Smyth that 
worked in the accounting department at Motorola. One day, almost out of the 
blue, Heather showed up at Beth's office, introduced herself and started 
chatting. Together they traveled to the fitness club after work or they'd 
meet there on Saturdays. Quite a friendship was starting to develop. They 
had even discussed entering the New Times 10K together in November. 



Then, as life sometimes deals people, Beth had one of those 'terrible, 
rotten, very bad days' after weeks of wonderful. It started when she was 
greeted with a flat tire on her Miata on the way out the door. She was 
running late anyway but after changing the tire by herself in her condo 
garage, she was tense and about an hour behind her usual schedule when she 
wheeled into the already full parking lot at work. 

"Morning, Deb," spoke Beth as she breezed past her workstation. "Does John 
know I'm late?" John Galway was their mutual boss. 

"Yeah. I think so. He was looking for you earlier." 

"Great," Beth muttered sarcastically. 

When she arrived at her desk, she noticed that the top had been cleaned 
off. The usual heaps of paper and books were gone. The only thing that 
caught her eye was a small yellow sticky on her computer monitor with the 
words penned: 

SEE ME ASAP, JOHN 

"Shit." Beth grabbed the sticky note. She had a feeling what was wrong. 



John's office door was open. Beth gave two quick knocks then passed 
through. "You wanted to see me?" she asked, slightly nervous. 

Before he asked her to sit down, John motioned to shut the door behind her. 
"Beth, you know what this is about?" 

"I have an idea. Where's all the stuff I left on my desk?" 

"Security has it. They took it last night, then called me at home," John 
said rather matter-of-factly. Then he raised his voice a notch and asked, 
"Beth, how could you? This is your second time and you've only been here 
three months." 

"What do you mean? You're telling me they found proprietary material on my 
desk again?" She was almost certain it wasn't true. While she kept a messy 
desk, Beth was usually careful to lock up any sensitive company documents 
at the close of each day. 

"No, they didn't find proprietary material. They found government 
classified material." 

Beth gasped. "No!" Then she remembered and spoke softly, "Oh, shit." 

"Yeah. Oh, shit," John repeated. 

"John, it was just a PowerPoint slide with no real classified information 
on it. It came from a stack that had classified info in it but that slide 
itself had nothing on it." 

"Yeah, but the slide had 'Confidential' stamped across the bottom. To 
Tucker and his goon squad, that slide might as well have had all the launch 
codes for every ICBM in the North America on it." David Tucker was the head 
of security. He was a retired Air Force colonel and ex-POW and ran the 
department like he was Heinrich Himmler. "He called me at 1:30 in the 
morning and it sounded like he'd just nailed a spy or something. Anyway, I 
have to officially tell you that one more security offense and you're 
sacked. They've taken away your confidential security clearance. Oh, and 
Dave Tucker wants to interview you before the end of the day." 

Beth took a deep breath. "John, that slide was not classified! Couldn't you 
have told him that?" 

"Are you kidding? If it has the word confidential across the bottom, 
there's no arguing with that guy." 

Beth raised her voice a few decibels, "Jesus. Can't you at least get me out 
of that interview? I mean, what's the purpose? To embarrass me? To 
humiliate me?" 

"No, I can't get you out of the interview. Why should I?" John gestured 
hopelessly as if his hands were tied. 

Beth stood up making it clear she was ready to end the meeting. "Why should 
you? Oh, maybe because it would show some leadership that this department 
is clearly LACKING." She walked out the door saying, "Honestly, John, 
sometimes you're such a wimp." 



Beth was completely numb when she got back to her desk. "I'm fired. I'm so 
gone. He's going to fire me, I know it." She wasn't crying but her 
breathing was very erratic. 

It was making Deb uneasy, scaring her. "Did he say you were fired?" she 
asked. 

"No. But if he said to me what I said to him, I'd probably fire him." Beth 
was still shaking from the whole episode. 

"What'd you say?" asked Deb. 

"I made a crack about his leadership skills. Then I called him a wimp." 

Deb started laughing. "That's great! Oh, trust me Beth," more laughter, 
"he's not going to fire you. This is great." 

Beth was not comforted by Deb's casual response to her story. "Why won't he 
fire me? Tell me." 

"Because, silly. It's for the very reason you cited. He's a wimp." Deb 
continued to laugh. "Oh, this is too ironic. I've got to tell the others. 
It's time for my smoke break anyway. Want to join me?" 

"No." Beth heard the 'no' echo in her ears and realized it sounded a little 
harsh. "Thanks, anyway," she said. "You go ahead." 

"I will," Deb retorted, then got up and strolled towards the cafeteria with 
her cigarettes. 



Beth remained motionless in her cube as Deb left to smoke. She was very 
prideful and felt that Motorola was very lucky to have her. She hated being 
called on anything - even if she did make a mistake. The more she thought 
about the incident, the more upset she became. She needed to talk to 
someone. She decided to dial Heather's extension. Her cube was upstairs in 
Finance. After four rings, she heard her voice mail pick up. "Damn," she 
cursed as she slammed her phone down. "I've got to talk to someone." 

Beth stood up and decided to go for a walk. The stress building inside 
would certainly crush her if she remained at her desk. She started walking 
almost aimlessly. She walked down long corridors she'd never seen before. 
She walked into the parking lot and strolled around the campus perimeter 
until it became too hot. Then she entered a side door and started back 
toward her area via the cafeteria. What she saw through the huge cafeteria 
plate glass window overlooking the patio literally knocked her down. 
Fortunately, a chair from one of the tables caught her as she fell. Beth 
refocused her eyes on the crowd out on the smoking patio. She couldn't 
believe it. A familiar emotion of betrayal washed over her - this was the 
Pam episode all over again. Goddamn her! Beth watched just long enough to 
see her tall and slender friend, Heather Smyth, take a luxurious puff on a 
freshly lit cigarette, inhale deeply then send an even plume of smoke away 
from her table of friends. She was smiling and laughing. 

This was the final straw. Her one true friend since coming to Phoenix, (her 
running friend!) had betrayed her. "Does everyone in this fuckin' place 
smoke?" Beth got up from the chair she collapsed in and decided to head for 
her car. She was done for the day. Dave Tucker and his fuckin' interview 
would have to wait. Fuck 'em all, she thought. 



As the red Miata pulled back into the McCormick Ranch Village just after 
noontime (only 3 hours since it'd departed), the condo complex was quiet as 
usual. The summers here reminded Beth of the few winters she'd spent in the 
Northeast. Everyone was inside taking refuge from the extreme elements. The 
tennis courts and swimming pool were vacant. Even the gardeners were 
sitting out the afternoon heat. Beth could only hear the occasional air 
conditioning compressor whining as she made her way from the garage back 
outside to her front door. She was still fuming from the events at work. 
She wasn't exactly sure how she'd behave the next time she saw Heather face 
to face. She knew she couldn't be justifiably angry or upset - they hadn't 
known each other that long. It's just that Beth thought she was a better 
judge of character than this. 

Beth was reaching for her key when all of a sudden she heard her name being 
called. She turned and saw the character she'd met the day she moved in - 
Doug something-or-other. 

"Beth, oh Beth...where have you been? I haven't seen you since your first 
day. You must be really working hard, huh?" Doug was full of his animated 
self. 

Oh brother, I don't feel like talking to this guy, Beth said to herself. 
She just wanted to be left alone. "Oh, hi," she offered anemically. "I'm 
sorry. I've forgotten your name." She was hoping her lie would discourage 
any lengthy conversation. 

"Douglas. Douglas Duritz, silly." He reached out to shake her hand. 

Beth smiled and rolled her eyes. "Oh, why not," she sighed. Beth offered 
her hand and he shook it vigorously. "Doug. That's right. Do you go by Doug 
or is it Douglas?" 

"Oh, definitely Douglas. Definitely." Then he flashed a syrupy smile and 
continued, "But you can call me Doug if you'd like." 

Beth almost laughed. "O-kaaay...Doug." 

"So, are you all moved in? Been traveling? How do you like Scottsdale? Met 
anyone else here yet?" Doug was bouncing from toe to toe chattering like a 
magpie. 

"Slow down!" Beth smiled. "Yeah, I've been busy. It's been three months and 
I don't even have all my stuff put away yet. Speaking of which, I need to 
get busy now. It's been nice talking to you..." She moved closer to her 
door hoping to end this chance meeting. 

"Wait Beth. Can I make you a proposition?" Doug said, grinning great big. 

She laughed out loud this time. Beth already understood that this Doug 
would probably never be the type to actually proposition her. She decided 
to have some fun. "Just what do you have in mind, big boy?" 

"Dinner. Yes, dinner. I have a friend that I know you'd like to meet. And I 
know he'd love to meet you," Doug answered rapidly. 

Beth grinned, feigning embarrassment. "No thanks. I'm not interested in the 
Duritz matchmaking service or meeting any new men - not right now anyway." 

"No, no. You don't understand. Hank is different. It's not a match. Well, 
not a romantic one. Think of it as a business relationship." Doug paused to 
think some more then could only add, "Yeah, a business relationship." 

Now Beth was suspicious. "Just what the hell are you talking about, Doug? I 
should also warn you I'm not interested in buying any Amway products, life 
insurance or mutual funds." 

"Oh, Beth, Beth." Doug put his arm around her similarly to how he'd done it 
when they first met. "We're not selling anything. Please, just agree to 
meet us for dinner tonight. We can meet in a public place and you can drive 
yourself if you'd like. You'll like Hank. He's a very interesting and 
charming man." 

"Hank, huh?" Beth squinted in the bright sun and pondered the offer. "I'm 
sorry Doug. I really don't think I'm interested." She turned once again and 
attempted to enter her front door. 

"Wait! Beth, would you come to dinner if I told you we can get you two 
front row tickets to Shania Twain at the America West Arena?" 

Beth froze in her tracks then leaned back and spoke, "Who told you?" 

"Told me what?" Doug replied innocently. "I just figured you and a friend 
might like to go. I hear she's sold out." 

"You bet she's sold out. Heather, err, my friend and I tried to get tickets 
the day they went on sale. We got zip. Now, all that's available are 
scalper's tickets." At just that moment, a picture of pretty Heather 
exhaling that long stream of smoke on the patio entered Beth's mind. She 
frowned. "So, how'd you know, huh?" 

"Beth," Doug smiled slyly, "you give us too much credit. I just took a wild 
guess. Would you like to go?" 

"Sure, I'd like to go." She narrowed her eyes. "And all I have to do is 
meet this Hank fellow, huh?" 

"That's it." Doug's smile betrayed the fact that he was groveling. 
"Please?" 

"This is too weird." Still, Beth was curious. "Okay, where do we meet?" 

"How 'bout Ruth's Chris on Camelback, 7:00. You know the place? It's a 
wonderful little steak restaurant that...." 

Beth interrupted him. "I know the place. I'll meet you two there. If I 
don't show by 7:30, you can assume I'm not that interested in seeing Shania 
after all." 

"Oh, Beth, fantastic. Terrific. We'll see you at 7. You won't regret it!" 
Doug was practically beaming. 

Beth just shook her head. She wanted to laugh at this little geek. She 
finally got her door opened and thought to herself, I'm already regretting 
it. 


7. Who Are These People? 

The hostess led Beth to their table. Oh, sure, of course. They're sitting 
in the smoking section, she said to herself once she saw where she was 
being taken. Then she spotted Doug and wondered, who's the woman with them? 

Doug spotted Beth simultaneously. He immediately jumped to his feet, "Beth! 
Oh, Beth. You made it!" 

Beth couldn't help but smile. She thought she was finally getting used to 
this guy's over-exuberance with life. "Yes, I made it," she said, quickly 
surveying the other two guests. 

Doug hugged her like an old friend and gently pecked her cheek. Then he 
stood back as the man across from her rose. "Beth Peterson, I would like 
you to meet Hank Graham. Hank, this is the one I told you about." 

Beth felt strange. "Pleased to meet you," she said. It was as if she were 
being introduced to Hank as his date for the evening, yet there was this 
beautiful Sharon Stone-looking blond still in her seat next to him looking 
completely disinterested in the introductions and smoking a very long, 
white cigarette. 

Hank shook Beth's hand gracefully and responded with, "No, the pleasure's 
mine." Then he looked down at the blond bombshell wearing a low-cut black 
cocktail dress and said, "And this is Cynthia..." 

Cynthia turned and glanced up while in mid-puff on her cigarette. She 
quickly removed the white object from her lips and sucked the smoke down 
before offering, "Hello," in a husky voice. In a classy manner, she turned 
her face away from the table and gently exhaled a heavy stream of smoke. 
Her eyes never returned to Beth or the rest of the group for the remainder 
of the evening. She just sipped her martini from its classic 
triangular-shaped glass and smoked in a variety of seductive poses. 

As Beth seated herself at the table with Doug's help, she noticed Cynthia's 
long, narrow green-striped pack of cigarettes. The brand was Virginia Slims 
Menthol and the pack was sitting in plain view on the table next to an 
attractive, sleek-looking gold lighter. This Cynthia was a very beautiful 
woman, Beth noted. She was feeling her competitive streak rise within her 
and was sorry she chose to wear her cool business attire, a simple 
lightweight blazer, expensive silk blouse and well-fitted pants. Despite 
her outfit's appropriateness, the clothes being worn by the others 
suggested a bit more intimacy, a touch of style and above all, money. Beth 
guessed that the outfit the lovely Cynthia was wearing must've cost well 
over $1,000. Yet it didn't come across as over-dressy in the semi-formal 
atmosphere here at Ruth's Chris. 

"So, Dougie here tells me that you've recently started work out at 
Motorola. What line of work are you in, Beth?" Hank asked in an accent that 
reminded her of New England. He was waving around what looked (and smelled) 
like a very expensive cigar. 

Beth first giggled at Doug and whispered, "Dougie?" Then she turned back to 
Hank and spoke, "I'm a manager in the marketing communications department. 
I handle arrangements for our tradeshows, help design the brochures and 
write all the press releases for the division. It's been fun so far." Beth 
tried to sound rather matter-of-fact about her job description but inside 
she was delighted to be able to announce this to the table. In fact, she 
was feeling so confident that she added, "And in my spare time, I try to 
run about five miles a day. I think I'm going to do the New Times 10K in 
November." Beth then looked over at Cynthia, who appeared completely bored 
with everything but her fresh cigarette. She noted that Cynthia was doing 
something very odd with her smoke after she took a long puff. Later, Beth 
would learn that the term for it was called 'French inhaling'. The 
mannerism did seem to suite her style - Beth had to give her that. 

Hank was asking a question again. "So Beth, have you met Simon out there 
yet?" 

Beth broke the slight trance Cynthia was holding on her. "Simon?" she 
asked. 

"Yes. Simon Gallagher. (Hank left the second 'g' silent as the Irish and 
British do.) Certainly you've heard of him?" 

"Oh, Mr. Gallagher. You mean our president and sector manager? No, I 
haven't met him...not yet anyway." Now Beth was wishing she had said she'd 
met him. "You know him?" she added hastily. 

Hank and Doug looked at each other after Beth's question and chuckled as if 
they were sharing an inside joke. "Actually, Simon and I sit on Viad's 
corporate board." 

"Viad?" Beth had to ask. 

"You may remember - the old Dial Corporation? Before that it was Greyhound 
- Dial. You know - Dial soap products and the like? Actually, they are 
headquartered here." 

"Oh," was all she could manage. 

"We also sit on some other boards - charitable works and the like." Hank's 
words trailed off. "But enough about me." He quickly changed gears. "So, 
let me see if I've got this right: Elizabeth Peterson, newly divorced, 
arrived in Phoenix from Albuquerque three months ago, lives at McCormick 
Ranch Village and is a manager in the marketing department at Motorola. Oh, 
and likes to torture herself relentlessly, as one would beat one's head 
against a wall, by running five miles a day." He paused for effect. "How am 
I doing?" 

Under different circumstances, hearing this recital might have upset her. 
But Beth suspected that Hank was just flirting around and trying to be 
charming. He'd no doubt received a 'briefing' from Doug. "Oh, that's not 
everything there is to know," Beth responded half-heartedly. For some 
reason, she was having a difficult time keeping her eyes off Cynthia's sexy 
French inhales. 

Both Hank and Doug noticed it. Hank asked, "Beth, do you like to have fun?" 

This caught her by surprise. "What? What do you mean?" 

"I mean real fun." 

Beth took a sip of her Perrier that had just arrived. "I don't understand." 

"What do you do for entertainment?" Doug answered, more direct to his 
point. 

She set her water down and dabbed her lips. "I told you. I work and I run, 
basically." 

"And...?" 

"And, what?" 

"And, have you given any thought to a social life whatsoever?" Hank smiled, 
trying to go easy on her. 

Beth thought he was trying to ask her for a date, right in front of this 
Cynthia - whoever she was. "No, I haven't Hank. But let me guess, you're 
just the guy that's going to give me one, right?" For some almost 
inexplicable reason, maybe because she was watching Cynthia smoke, or maybe 
because of Hank's expensive cigar, she actually wished she could punctuate 
her question with a long puff on a cigarette. 

Cynthia was mildly listening to the banter. She softly laughed as she 
expelled a long stream of smoke from her full lips. 

At that moment Beth's heart started to race. She was coming close to 
actually asking Cynthia for a puff of her cigarette. She wanted to look as 
sexy and confident as that other lovely woman who was sitting at the table, 
but she chickened out. After taking another sip of water, she began to 
think more rationally. What the hell's come over me? But she couldn't help 
but stare at Cynthia's next textbook French inhale. 

Hank read her mind. "Here, Beth." Without asking Cynthia's permission, Hank 
gently slid Cynthia's Virginia Slims and lighter toward her. "You want to 
smoke, don't you? Would you like a cigarette?" 

Beth's eyes got wide. "NO!" Whatever gave you that idea?" She sounded 
highly indignant. 

"Oh, I don't know." Hank still felt in control. "I didn't mean to offend 
you. You should just relax and try it. It won't hurt you, you know." 

Beth's fitness convictions were now kicking in. "Won't hurt me?! Christ, 
Hank, what do you take me for, a fool? Smoking won't hurt me? That's a good 
one." Then, without batting an eye, she looked at Cynthia and uttered, 
"Sorry." 

Cynthia just stared back like she'd heard it all before or that she truly 
didn't care if cigarette smoking was bad for her or not. Either way, it was 
a very non-engaging look. 

Hank immediately replied, "I wasn't speaking of smoking specifically. What 
I'm trying to say, actually my point is, you need to try to relax more. You 
sit there in your stylish, yet tough business attire, your pre-dinner 
cocktail is sparkling water and you speak of this high-pressure job. Being 
able to relax is..." 

Beth cut him off. "Relax? Why does everyone use that word around me? Why 
does everyone tell me to relax?" 

Doug and Hank shot a knowing glance at each other. 

Beth continued, "You know, you're about the tenth person today that's told 
me to relax!" 

"I'm sorry," Hank replied. "You're only my first." A brief silence hung in 
the air. "I apologize, Beth. I don't want to upset you. You're our guest 
tonight. Let's just enjoy each other's company and change the topic to, uh, 
to what kind of wine you'd like to go with our dinner." Then he winked at 
her. 

Beth grinned and made a gentle swipe at Hank's arm. "You're terrible." Then 
she faced Doug. "For your information, I've been known to have a small 
glass of wine with dinner - on occasion." 

Upon hearing this, the two men offered her hearty golf claps. Beth's face 
reddened. Cynthia smiled but kept on smoking. 



Dinner was pleasant enough. Beth was enjoying herself but felt the other 
three were operating on a different level. Hank regaled the group with one 
interesting story after another. As near as Beth could discern, Hank was 
independently wealthy - in fact, very wealthy indeed. He owned several 
homes, the largest one being in Paradise Valley - a posh area north of 
Phoenix. And, from the sound of his stories, he owned a private jet and 
lived somewhere very close to Stevie Nicks. None of these facts were 
directly bragged about. They just casually made their way into his 
entertaining narratives. He even promised Beth that he'd introduce her to 
the lovely Ms. Nicks someday. 

"Yeah, right," she laughed, before finishing her one solitary glass of 
Merlot for the evening. The wine had made her comfortable with the 
surroundings but the intoxicating effects also made her nervous. 

The group continued to laugh and chat past dinner. Even Cynthia shared a 
funny anecdote about some shopping she did earlier in the day. But mostly 
she just smoked - even as she ate her meal and sipped her coffee, she 
smoked. Beth would steal furtive glances at her from time to time but would 
only look at either Doug or Hank when she talked. Cynthia was a cipher to 
her. She could not understand her relationship to the two men nor her 
incessant smoking - as sexy as it seemed. 

Just as the group was settling down from a recent guffaw, Beth thought she 
recognized a man several tables over in the non-smoking area. Doug also 
noticed the man. He asked her, "See someone you know, Beth?" 

"Yeah. I think so." A light bulb finally went on. She quickly leaned over 
and whispered to Doug, "That's Senator John McCain! And his wife too, isn't 
it?" She nodded in the direction of their table. 

"It certainly is." Doug was aware of the senator's presence when they had 
walked in. He leaned back to Beth and whispered, "Watch what happens next." 

The senator and his wife were rising from their table and getting ready to 
depart. Without even looking, Hank rose from his chair as if on cue. The 
scene seemed perfectly choreographed to Beth as Senator John McCain and his 
wife Cindy walked right past their table and smiled warmly. McCain then 
shook Hank's right hand while touching his arm with his left. They 
exchanged pleasantries that confirmed to Beth that the two men actually 
knew each other. Hank then made a quick introduction of Beth. 

Beth gasped but quickly regained her composure to shake the senator's hand. 
He gave a very characteristic grin, as Beth had seen on TV, and spoke, 
"Nice meeting you." Then he gracefully shuffled to the side and moved for 
the door following his wife's lead. 

When Beth and Hank resumed sitting, Beth let out a big laugh then quickly 
stifled it. "You're quite an amazing man, Mr. Hank Graham." Then she 
laughed again. 

Hank smiled and straightened an imaginary tie. 

Doug chimed in, "Even so Beth, please share with us what's so hilarious." 

Beth calmed down but was still smiling. "It's just so funny. I mean, to me 
anyway." She looked at Hank and broke out laughing again. "Oh, God. Did 
Dougie tell you what I thought you were before tonight?" More laughing, 
then came, "An Amway salesman!" 

All four roared in unison. 



The evening air was hot when they reached the parking lot but it still 
provided a welcome clearing to Beth's senses. Hank was walking her to her 
Miata while Doug and Cynthia stood waiting in the background. Beth could 
see Cynthia lighting another Virginia Slims Menthol in the semi-darkness. 

She wasn't sure if Hank was going to try to kiss her. She wasn't even sure 
if he was her 'date'. The whole evening seemed rather peculiar. Just as he 
was about to speak, Beth interrupted, "Hank, what was the purpose of this 
evening? Don't get me wrong, I had a great time. You guys really know how 
to live. It's just that, well...," Beth was fumbling with words. "I don't 
get it. What was supposed to happen tonight? I expected some sort of 
business discussion or proposal or something when I found out I wasn't your 
date." 

"How'd you know you weren't my date?" 

"Come on, Hank! What am I supposed to think after seeing you next to your 
lady friend, Miss Virginia Slims? Who the hell is she anyway? She hardly 
said two words all night. And that leaves little 'Dougie', as you call him. 
You and I both know he left his date back in San Francisco." 

"Relax, Beth, relax." 

"Quit saying that! I am relaxed!" 

"Please, come home with us. I can make us all a nightcap and we can talk. 
It's great stress relief and gets very entertaining, depending..." 

"No," Beth cut him off. "I've got to get up early. Sorry." 

"Beth, you need to consider re..." 

"No I don't! Don't say that word again. I am so fuckin' relaxed right now I 
can't stand it! I've got to go." 

"Beth..." 

"Goodnight, Hank." Beth started her car and sped away filling the area with 
a cloud of exhaust fumes. 

As her taillights disappeared, Doug emerged from the darkness. Hank turned 
to him, smiled, shook his hand and said, "You've got yourself a bet." 

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