Down for the Count by Christine Bell

Description : Down for the Count
Lacey Garrity—soon to be Clemson once she got down to the social security office to change it— marched up the long corridor between the reception hall and the bar, muttering to herself. It was time to throw the frigging bouquet, but her groom was MIA. After making a list of possible places he might have gone, jotted neatly on a cocktail napkin, she’d made the rounds and so far? Nada.

Pausing, she jabbed at the green call button of her cell phone and held it to her ear.

In the reception room behind her, the strains of “Twist and Shout” faded. It was only that brief absence of music that allowed her to hear the muffled, familiar melody of Marty’s ringtoneing from behind a door at the end of the hallway. Bah dum. Bah dum. Bahdum bahdum bahdum…

Relief flooded her, and she beelined toward the sound. She tugged the door open and—

“Marty?” Lacey stared down at her husband of two hours, total shock momentarily preventing her fromprehending the scene before her. The slightly muffled version of The Pink Panther theme songing from the pants around her husband’s ankles kept time with the ring pouring from the receiver of the telephone she still had cupped to her ear.

“Lacey! I can explain,” Marty said as he frantically tried to extract himself from the woman he was screwing and yank up his pants at the same time, which was no easy feat given the restrictive confines of the filled-to-bursting storage closet. In his struggle, he knocked a mound of snowy-white linens off the shelf behind him, and they toppled onto his paramour with a thunk, shoving her torso flat into the table she was draped over.

“Shit!” she wailed, floundering until the cloths fell to the floor in a heap.

Lacey focused more intently on the woman...
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