132 “I thought you wanted me—you told me so when we kissed in the park!” He cried. “Do you know that boy very well, Shar?” Cathy Beck yelled in the general direction of the lavatory. She grasped at the right one, massaging where his grip had been and Gerald hoped he had not bruised her. She could have traded it for gold nuggets and lived like a queen for a few weeks, but she did not.
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