The thought of returning home felt unwise. Although he spent all day dreaming up sales copy that could convince bozos into buying almost anything, Dempsey couldn't imagine a plausible explanation, a believable story as to why he had been gone all night.

It painted too perfect a picture: the

cheating

husband. It would be better, he thought, to go straight to the office. It was nearby, he could leave the car here... wherever it was... and act like he had been at the office all night.

While passing by a candy store, the morning light reflected to reveal to Dempsey what his face looked like. Covered in thick, dark bristles. He took a detour and stopped by his barbershop.

His barber wasn't in yet, but his partner was. He would have to do.

Just a shave, he told him.

The barber put down his newspaper and got up from his slouch batting Dempsey an eye over his reading glasses. Just a shave? he asked.

Yes. Just that.

The barber looked Dempsey's disheveled hair over for two moments. And then got to work on the shave.