Bear with me for this one, I have no idea where it's going, but I need to get it out of my head!
Cigarette smoke fills the night air as I drag my suitcase up the steps to the lobby of the hotel. I cough dramatically, putting my acting skills to good use. Not that it matters, he pays no attention whatsoever, sucking on the cigarette before blowing another plume of smoke my way. I'm about to yell at him, really yell at him, when the handle comes off my too heavy suitcase, sending me sprawling into the door of the hotel. And my suitcase back down the steps. "Fuck sake!" I curse, starting to make my way down to my miraculously still in tact suitcase. Well, apart from the handle, anyway. "Not very ladylike" he drawls. Ooh, an accent. "Well" I say, hands on hips and turning to face him. "It's not very gentlemanly to watch a lady struggle." "I never said I was a gentleman" he counters, mimicking my hand on hips pose. "And I never claimed to be a lady" I say, turning my back on him and grabbing my case, pulling it up the steps and into the very warm, and very crowded, lobby.
I wait, impatiently, in a long line until I finally get near to the counter. The crowd has started to thin out a bit, the chatter becoming more excited as the demands for pictures get louder. I shake my head as I hear him laugh, angry at myself for the way his laugh makes me feel. He has me squirming just by being in the same room as me, and I've only just met him. "Ma'am?" the receptionist calls, snapping me out of my, well, not very decent daydream. I grab my suitcase and walk to the counter slowly. "Uh hi" I begin awkwardly. "Your reservation?" she asks, clearly bored. I shake my head. "I, uh, don't..." I start, jumping as I feel a hand snake around my waist. "Good" he says, smiling that charming, heart breaking, ovary busting smile. "The reservation is under Good. Jon Good. Please, excuse my wife, she, well, this is all a surprise for her." "You can say that again" I mumble, wincing as he pinches my ass. The receptionist hands him a keycard, with the usual pleasantries, breakfast is at 7am, check out is at midday, blah blah blah. I tune out and focus on him. My my my. He does look better in the light. Could use a shave though. He looks down at me and winks. "Let's go check out our room, Mrs Good" he says, steering me towards the elevators. I can't help it. My legs don't feel like my own. Seriously, this guy could tell me to strip and give him a lap dance in the lobby and I'd gladly do it. I chastise myself silently and follow him, smiling as he takes my case from me. As we step inside the elevator I look back at the crowd in the lobby. They're staring, completely dumbstruck. The same word coming from all their mouths at the same time. Wife? I wait until the doors close before looking at him again.
"Wife?" I ask. "What the actual fuck are you playing at? I met you outside!" "I know, I know" he says. "Moving too fast, right? It's not you, it's me, and you want a divorce? Am I right yet?" "You're something, alright" I mumble. "Sorry darling" he says as the elevator doors slide open. "Not able to decipher mumbo jumbo without a few straight Jacks inside me." I shake my head as I follow him to a room, watching as he expertly slides the key card into the slot before opening the door. "You coming in or sleeping in the hall, darling?" he calls. I groan and follow him in, knowing straight away that the corridor is probably the safer option, for both of us. I watch as he throws my suitcase to one side as he holds the door open for me. "Welcome to my humble abode" he says, watching me as I look around the room. I catch him watching me and shrug. "It'll do" I say, flopping on the sofa and kicking my shoes off. He watches as I wiggle my toes, trying to get some life back into them. Stupid shoes. "Wanna tell me why you did that?" I ask suddenly. "Huh?" he asks, eyes snapping up to my face. "The lobby, wise guy" I say, reading his face hoping for a reaction. Nothing. "I could always let you go back down and attempt to get a room" he says finally. "If that's what you really want? Good luck, by the way. Hotel is full. So, really, you kinda owe me a thank you." "A thank you?" I splutter. He nods. "Yup" he says, clearly satisfied with himself. "Thank me for saving your, well, quite frankly, cute ass, from a night on the street. For giving you a bed for the night." "A bed?" I ask. "Honey all you've given me so far is a headache." He smirks. "I know the perfect cure" he drawls, moving closer to me. Woah. Back up, when did he sit down? I try to move away from him but the arm of the sofa is closer than I thought. Nowhere to run. "Advil" he whispers in my ear before standing up and walking to the other side of the room.
"I have a better cure" I say, standing up and going to my suitcase. I groan as I open it, everything is a mess. But, miracles do happen, and my headache cure is fine. I shake the bottle of Jack at him and he smiles. "I do believe I have a headache" he says, walking into the bathroom. He grabs the two plastic beakers and brings them in, waving them triumphantly. "Always wondered what these were for" he says. I smile as I pour us both a generous glass, not even waiting for him to say anything before chugging mine back and starting to pour another. "Slow down sunshine" he says before doing the same. "We got all night, and nowhere near enough jack for you to go at that pace!" I laugh. "That's what bars are for, dear husband" I say before downing the next glass. He smirks and holds his glass out for a refill. "Touché, dear wife" he growls as I fill his glass.