TUESDAY TALES - ICY

 

Howdy do! Welcome. This week we're writing to the word promp "icy".  We have another episode of "Two of Hearts".  When you're done, hop on over to read the other stories by our talented authors. You'll find them HERE.

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Terry stood in the shadows and watched Jen walk away. She looked a helluva lot better than she had that morning. She cleaned up real nice. Wildly in love with his wife, Terry had never considered infidelity. But that didn’t rule out looking. Jen had potential. Maybe when her husband got better, she’d spruce herself up a bit.

Her story had improved his mood. Sure, he’d be going to bed without Clare again, but at least she wasn’t in the hospital in a coma. He could fly to L.A. and see her whenever he wanted. Not that he’d booked a flight yet. Geez, she hadn’t been gone a week, even, and already he was complaining.

Queenie begged for a bedtime treat before cuddling up with him on the sofa. Terry switched on the news, then searched for a porn channel. Might as well do some of the forbidden things while Clare was out of the house. He found a movie instead and settled in.

Afterward, he showered and headed for bed. Queenie was already there. She’d usurped his spot, so he eased her over. One protesting yawn and she was back to sleep.

His cell rang. It was his business partner, Paul.

“Sandy said we should invite you over to dinner. Wanna come on Friday?”

“Sure.”

“I mean, it’s not like you’re doing anything, right?”

“Go ahead. Rub it in.”

Paul laughed. “You’re making us all look bad.”

“How so?”

Paul's tone turned icy. “You’re fucking husband of the year. Let’s his wife go to L. A., the city with more horny men than any other city on the planet. And you don’t even complain. I’m not the only guy hearing about how you’re central casting’s perfect husband.”

Now it was Terry’s turn to laugh.

“How about a work out tomorrow? Lunch or six?”

“Let’s do six. Gives me something to do,” Terry replied.

“Rolling around like a lone marble in a shoe box?”

“How’d you guess?”

“Don’t quote me, but I think it’s damn, uh, well, maybe noble, you doing this. Not that I don’t want to strangle you for the shit storm you’ve created in my house. Still. Kudos, buddy.”

“Thanks. It’s not like I had a choice. I think it was L.A. or divorce court.”

“Really?”

“Clare never said that, but I saw the handwriting on the wall if I said ‘no.’ Besides, she was grateful. Very grateful. Every night for weeks,” Terry snickered.

“Bastard! You lucky son-of-a-bitch. Go ahead, rub it in.”

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