Joanne snapped one of her high-heels. The cobbler promised a two-hour turnaround. He lied. Can a night in a hotel help Gordon and Jo rediscover their love?
The front door slammed. Joanne sighed, put her erotic book down, and looked up. Damn, I just got to the good part. She checked her watch. It’s seven. He’s late. I hope he hasn’t been drinking. I don’t know how much more I can take.
Her husband, Gordon, staggered in and grinned at her. He’s way too bubbly, and he’s swaying. That’s not a good sign.
“J-Joey, let’s go away for the weekend. It’s been f-forever since we had some fun together.”
He’s slurring his words, and I hate it when he calls me Joey. How many times do I have to tell him? “The Smiths invited us over for dinner tomorrow night…”
“I’ll phone Jim. H-he’ll understand. C-come on, Jo, it’ll do us good. I-I know things have been tough lately. I-I’ll make it up to you,” he coaxed.
I’m not going to win this one, and he’s not nice when he gets angry. “Fine. Have you eaten?”
“No, just a quick beer with Bill.”
Or two. “Well, I ordered pizza. It’s in the kitchen and cold by now. Throw it in the microwave for thirty seconds.”
He leaned over. She turned her head away, and he slobbered on her cheek. “I’m famished. Yes, pizza sounds good.”
Joanne listened as the microwave door slammed shut, the plates clattered, and finally, the fridge door clunked. This doesn’t sound good.
Gordon teetered in, a beer in one hand, and a plate overflowing with pizza in the other.
He collapsed on the couch and pointed the remote at the TV. A baseball game came to life on the screen. He’s not even tasting that. He’s inhaling it! With a bit of luck, he’ll fall asleep watching the match. That beer didn’t last long.
“Darling, I’m going upstairs to pack. What shall I take?”
“I-I don’t know. Let’s play it by ear.” He looked at the TV and shouted, “Umpire, get your eyes tested. You need glasses…no, you must be joking.”
Joanne left quietly and went upstairs. She packed an overnight bag and settled down to finish her romantic novel. She heard Gordon wandering around downstairs and multiple bangs as he tried to get the fridge door closed. At eleven, it went quiet except for the TV.
Shall I go down and switch it off? No, that’s what earplugs are for.
