Trying to Throw my Arms Around the World

The hangover

The hangover

“I like older ladies,” Annabelle said. “That’s not a crime, is it?”

I nodded, but what she said barely registered. I was so wasted and I had absolutely no idea how to get home.

“I know she looks a bit older, but she is only sixty-three.” Annabelle kept talking while fiddling with the scandalous number of shot glasses on our table. “And she has the most wicked sense of humour.”

She’d been banging on about her sugar granny for what seemed like ages and I just wanted to sleep. “I’m going to text Lucy. She can pick us up in her car.”

“No, no. I can’t face her in this state,” she slurred. “I’ll need to reapply my makeup.” This caused a fresh wave of giggles to burst out of her mouth.

“Let’s do one more shot while we wait. It’s all fucked now anyway,” I said.

“If you call in sick tomorrow, I will grass you up.”

Lucy towered over us, the expression on her face torn between anger and sympathy. At the sight of her, Annabelle tried sitting up straight, her lips pursed into an earnest pucker, but it was way too late to fool anyone.

“I’m so sorry, Lucy,” I tried to say but she walked off to the bar.

She came back with two large glasses of water. “Both of you, shut up and drink this.”

I went a bit soft inside. I liked her stern but caring-despite-herself side. She dragged Annabelle and me out of the pub and dumped us in the backseat. When we arrived at Annabelle’s she lifted her out of her seat and escorted her all the way inside, leaving me dizzy and nauseous in the car, sucking cool night air through the open window.

“You will suffer in the morning, darling.” Lucy tore at my pants, trying to get them off so I didn’t have to sleep in them. “And I will enjoy every single second of it.”

“And you claim to love me. I’m appalled.”

“I gather Annabelle has now had all her suspicions confirmed?”

“Well, yes, but it was more a trade of information.”

“I think you should stop talking now. Once again, I’ll clean up your mess in the morning.” She stroked my cheek with the back of her fingers.

“I’ll doubt she’ll remember much tomorrow.” I was already half asleep.

“Don’t make the mistake of underestimating Annabelle Brooks.” The last words I heard before slipping off into a deep slumber, images of Annabelle, Lucy and Mrs Henderson crowding my dreams.

When I arrived at the office the next day, a strategically planned half hour later than Lucy, my head throbbing violently and my stomach not able to hold anything down, I had to blink several times at my screen before I could read the name ‘Lynette Henderson’ clearly in my e-mail inbox. Had she and Annabelle spoken already? And was it really her? Did people over sixty actually use e-mail? She invited me to ‘a private lunch’ at noon and I didn’t know what to do first, swallow some more painkillers, see Lucy and panic or strangle Annabelle.

“Lucy’s in a meeting,” Annabelle chirped. “Followed by a lunch, so she won’t be in before two, maybe three.” Had she planned this?

“What are you playing at?” I asked, my voice broken and my hangover visible all over my face.

“I have no idea what you’re implying, Lee.” She looked so fresh and crisp. There were no signs of burst blood vessels in her eyes and her complexion was as healthy as ever. She had probably set me up but I had no idea what for, nor did I have the energy to find out.

To be continued…