It’s John, one of the older partners; he’s also unsteady on his feet, but not as unsteady as my husband or the woman. I glance back and forth, wondering what will happen; I tense, biting my lip in anticipation. The pair start as John bangs on the door. The woman dashes under the table and I suppress a babble of laughter at her poor choice. My husband does an even poorer job of fixing his clothes. What have they been drinking I wonder, it must be that scotch Parker keeps in his office. I’ve tried a sip and it kept me buzzing for the whole day, it says forty years on the bottle, but I’m pretty sure that scotch has been around since scotch was invented. John talks to my husband and I watch the woman; she looks so afraid and I actually start laughing. My husband makes the mistake of glancing at the desk a few times, but John is clearly too far gone to notice. But not far gone enough to tell my husband that I called, because the next thing I know, my phone is bleeping, I pick up immediately, eager to know what he will say.
“Vivian?” My husband slurs, walking into another room with John, and throwing a hand out to steady himself.
“Jesus Marc, where are you? I’ve been worried sick! I almost called the police.” I say adding a touch of hysteria to my voice, as I try and push down the laughter that seems to be bubbling up in me.
“I’m so sorry, I was…I was drinking, yes I was drinking. I apologize, sorry, I’m really sorry…”
O no! He can’t tell me, not, certainly not over the phone!
“Just come home, safely please!” I beg, trying to sound desperate, whiles keeping an eye on the woman who is still hiding under the table, I briefly wonder if she’ll stay there all night.
“Of course, of course, I’m leaving, and I’m sorry Viv.” He says.