Taylor wouldn’t be happy for long in New York City.

She sat home alone most nights, as her husband worked long hours for the egocentric Donald Trump.

Taylor being an artist, painted at their high rise apartment. She made friends with a young female lawyer across the hall. She was coming over for drinks.

The doorbell rang, Taylor opened the door and said, “Hello Rae, how was work?”

“Big trial”, Rae. “You said drinks right?”

“Where are my manners, what would you like?”

“An appletini would hit the spot,” said Rae.

“Coming right up,” said Taylor.

“So where’s that handsome husband of yours? Working late again for ‘the Donald’?,” Rae said his name with venom.

“He’s not as bad a tyrant as he come across on TV. Adam actually enjoys working alongside him,” Taylor said in defense of the billionaire mogul.

“Hmmph,” Rae said, “Still Adam’s with him more than you and you’re newlyweds.”

“It gives me more time to paint”, Taylor said. “And Mr. Trump asked Adam if I’d be interested in painting his portrait”.