¡The speaker box was on hot! & nobody could stop it.
Constance stood there sweating, fighting the urge to bash the drunk fucker to shut up. But that would only give her ’way further. So she stood there, trying to look cool up @ the sun while the radio squawked out its recitations o’ some o’ her & Alton Fox’s private conversations to the open clouds while that bastard Orval scribbed smugly in his pocket notebook. How Constance would like to shove it right down his throat.
But Constance kept herself calm. She brushed her nails gainst her blouse. ’Twas Orval that she should feel sorry for. What a horrible thing to happen to you — ¡to have such a shocking radio drunkenly stumble into the bathtub while he’s in it!