Pulling into the modelling agency’s modest parking lot, Anton breathed a sigh of relief at not seeing Magdalene’s car.  He certainly was in no mood to talk to her just yet, or worse, any kind of confrontation.  Already aware of how hot her blood ran if crossed, he also knew that he’d eventually have to face her, one way or another.  Of course, he still believed it was more on her for what she told Stella, than him merely hanging up on her.<br/><br/>All he wanted for now was to pick up the pair of tickets that Chloe was holding for him.  According to her, they were choice seats to<i>A Streetcar Named Desire.  </i>Although there was quite the selection of events to choose from, Anton didn’t think Stella would be interested in sports.  And the concerts?  Ha!  He was admittedly clueless as to the bands on offer.  Unable to name even one song from any of them, it was no surprise that Chloe knew about all of the musical artists.  If anyone could put those tickets to good use, it would be her.  Thanking her again with a wave of the freebies, he moved toward the door.<br/><br/>As with everything in life (and really, he shoulda been aware of this), nothing ever followed a script.  A familiar, irritated voice pierced the serenity shared by Chloe and Anton.  “Hey!  Why have you been avoiding me?” Magdalene accused.  “You don’t return my calls.  You don’t answer my texts.”  She moved closer to him, her tone and posture waiting for, demanding answers.<br/><br/>Try as she might, Chloe was stuck between a rock and a hard place.  She appeared, bless her, to devote all of her attention at whatever was on her computer screen.  Naturally, there were no incoming phone calls to distract her.  Anton couldn’t really blame her for eavesdropping, since Magdalene was speaking loud enough for<i>anyone </i>in the room to hear.  “Well?” she reminded him, arms now across her chest.<br/><br/>“Where’s your car?  I didn’t it see it out there,” he stated.  Never a good idea to respond with a lame question to her questions.  “Oh, so that’s it?  If you had seen my car, then what, you would’ve gone home or something?”  Now she was really a lit fuse, which did not bode well for Anton.  “My car’s in the shop for a routine checkup.  I have a loaner out there.”<br/><br/>“I’m not avoiding you, Mags,” he finally rallied.  “Still a bit peeved at what you said to Stella.”  Poor Chloe.  Not only did she look like she wished to be anywhere but here, she actually looked embarrassed to being a part of the soap opera playing out before her.  “So then talk to me about it, Anton.  Don’t just shut me out.”  Great.  In addition to her angry eyes, hurtfulness had crept into them, too.<br/><br/>Briefly glancing at his shoes, he offered, “Yeah, you’re right, Mags.  I’m sorry about that.  I just don’t wanna talk about it right this minute.”  Front door at least now open, Magdalene shot back, “Who are those tickets for, Anton?  They’re obviously not for me.  Maybe your little carrot-top hussy?”  She now appeared to be close to tears.  He turned to face her, with a slight shake of his head as a reply.  Heading toward his car, he sighed heavily.  Surprisingly, she chose to let him go without further complications.<br/><br/>As Magdalene stood there in silence, Chloe began furiously typing.  It was impossible to determine, however, whether she was typing something job-related, or just tap-tapping for tapping’s sake.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">&gt; &gt; &gt; &gt; &gt; &gt;&lt; &lt; &lt; &lt; &lt; &lt;​</div><br/>Nursing an IPA about half an hour later, Anton was slouched on his couch with Licorice curled up against his left thigh.  He stared at his phone, where only a plain, black screen stared back.  He began typing.<br/><br/><i>Hey Stella,</i><br/><br/><i>I have two tickets</i><br/><br/>He stopped typing.  Instead, he dialed her number.  As her phone rang, he determined (quite rightly, too) that it would be best if she heard his voice rather than read his words.  Going into voicemail, he patiently waited for her greeting to conclude before speaking.<br/><br/>“Hey Stella.  Long time no see or talk,” he said with cheer.  “Anyways, this is Anton and I’ve got two really good seats to Sunday’s performance of<i>A Streetcar Named Desire.  </i>And I was wondering if you’d like to go see it with me.  So, let me know, and we’ll take it from there.  G'night”<br/><br/>Was it just his imagination, or did Licorice scrunch up even more against him, accompanied by thunderous purrs?