Stella hated it when Ray used coupons. She always cringed a little bit and one time she even stepped away from the cashier stand, like she wasn't really with him, the man so low class as to save them a good $8.75.

They hadn't even been married six months, and it was the first time Ray realized that Stella was ashamed of him. He'd been looked down on before, of course, by Stella's friends and her family and even her priest, reverend, whatever. Ray had been looked down on by pretty much everyone Stella introduced him to, and had been ever since he was twelve years old. He was used to it, and he didn't care because fuck them. But that was the first time he ever noticed Stella being ashamed of him, and looking back on it, he thought it was probably a sign.

They'd had a huge fucking blowout about it when they got home, Ray demanding to know what it was about him that was so fucking low class that Stella'd had to actually walk away from the checkout line because she was embarrassed to be seen with him. Stella had said that he wasn't low class and she wasn't embarrassed it was just that coupons were, well, a tad dclass.

Ray had stalked over to their old roll top desk and gathered up all their bills and the checkbook and the ledger he used to write up their budget in. He dumped them on the kitchen table in front of her and said. "Fine. You think the way I handle our money is dclass, you fucking deal with it." Then he stormed out and went to the bar, where Manny always gave him beer on tap for free ever since he'd stopped Manny from getting knifed in the gut during a robbery. He ordered a shot of whiskey, too, when he got there. He could afford it since he'd just saved nearly ten bucks using his declass-fucking- coupons.

He got home just after midnight, not even drunk since after the one shot he'd mostly just brooded over his beer and growled at anybody who sat too close to him. Stella was still at the kitchen table, her hands in her hair, pen twined through her fingers, staring down at the ledger. She had her calculator next to her and a bunch of notes jotted down on a sheet of paper.

She looked up when he came in, and he shrugged his jacket off his shoulders and draped it over the back of the couch.

"I didn't know we were this bad off," she said softly.

Ray sighed. "I tell you every week how much we got left in the checking account."

"I know. I know you do, I just...I thought we had savings or something."

"We did. It's sitting right there." He jerked his thumb towards Stella's towering stack of law textbooks.

She took a deep, shaky breath, let it out slow. It took Ray a minute to figure out what was going on with her since he'd never seen her scared before--not like that, anyway.

"Hey," he said softly, squatting down next to her. He rubbed her back gently, leaned to kiss her hand. "It's all right. Look, you're not even factoring in me getting paid tomorrow."

"But the bills!" she cried. "And, God, the credit card! I don't...I never...Jesus, you must think I'm some stupid, spoiled little princess."

"Never." He stood and took her hand, pulled her out of the chair and into his arms. He started a lazy cha cha and kissed her pink mouth. "You, Stella Louise Warner-Kowalski, are as far from spoiled as anyone can get. You've got balls, baby. You're no helpless princess."

She tucked her face against his shoulder, swayed with him. "I don't think I'm going to hyphenate it anymore."

"No?" The idea secretly thrilled him, even though he'd never admit it.

"No. I'm Stella Kowalski. That's who I am. I've just been hanging on to the Warner so people think I'm...I don't know. Emancipated. I don't want to appear emancipated, though, I want to be emancipated. Totally free and self-reliant." She looked over her shoulder at the pile of bills on the table. She was shaking in the circle of his arms.

He reached one hand up to stroke her hair. "Hey," he whispered. "Baby, come on. It's OK. It's not like we're broke."

"Close enough."

"Look at me. Stell, look at me."

She met his eyes reluctantly.

"We're good. We're OK. Things are a little tight, that's all. It's not the end of the world."

"But--"

"I promise you. It's not the end of the world. It won't last long. I'll get promoted, you'll get in with some cushy law firm, and we'll be rolling in it. Right now, though, we drink crappy free beer down at Manny's and have pancakes for dinner and use coupons for stuff we're gonna get anyway, all right?"

Stella nodded. The next day she'd break out the coupon section of the newspaper and attack it like it was a perp lying to her on the witness stand, but that night she just looked nervous and like she might be sick.

"I'll buy you caviar one day, Stell. I will. Just...just not now."

Stella kissed him, then pulled back with a shaky smile. "I like your mom's meatloaf better."

"Who doesn't? Come on." He tugged her away from the kitchen table, from the bills that worried her so much. "Dance with me, my bella Stella."

She rolled her eyes and slapped his arm. She hated it when he called her that.

Ray started the record player, then held his hand out towards her. "We got the rhumba, baby," he said as they began to move together in perfect rhythm. "Who could ask for anything more?"