Spider - Michael Morley [95]
‘Hey, whatcha doing?’ squawked Carrie. ‘I was watching that.’
‘Tell me straight, Caz. Who the fuck are you fucking?’
Only the white poodle crap cream hid the blood draining from her face.
Carrie waited a couple of heartbeats, wondering whether to lie her way out of it, or feel grateful that the big ugly secret was finally out there for her big ugly husband to see. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she lied, trying to buy time.
Howie had never considered hitting a woman, until now. Now he could happily punch her lights out. Not so much because she’d been balling some other guy, though for some members of his family that would be reason enough, or even because he’d been too stupid up until now to figure it out. Nope, what really pissed him off was that he’d dropped a whole twenty pounds in weight and missed all those meals in what was plainly a pointless attempt to stay attractive for her and keep her in his bed.
Well, fuck her! He didn’t want her in his fucking bed anyway. Howie’s inner rage took over, and before he knew it, he was on his feet, giant hands grabbing and lifting his side of the bed.
Carrie tumbled on to the floor and crashed painfully into the wall.
‘You cheating, cocksucking cow!’ he said, then banged the bed down, like a weight-lifter with his last lift.
It hit the ground and made the noise of a small bomb as the wooden legs on his side splintered off.
Howie looked at the marital bed and saw it metaphorically. ‘Well, it looks like it’s all well and truly broken.’
PART SEVEN
Saturday, 7 July
62
West Village, SoHo, New York
As the last grey dregs of night filtered into the first warm reds of dawn Howie stretched out his aching bones on the couch opposite the one on which Jack was snoring. He and Carrie had screamed at each other in the bedroom, bawled at each other in the kitchen and even thrown things at each other in the back yard, until they finally ran out of fight-power a little after four a.m. The row had been enough to wake most of the neighbourhood, but Jack had slept all the way through the emotional earthquake. In the harsh light of morning, Howie felt as exhausted as he looked. His head hurt worse than any hangover he’d ever had and he felt more depressed, angry and humiliated than he’d done since someone at high school had stolen all his clothes and sports gear while he was in the showers.
By the time they rode to the office, Jack knew something was seriously wrong. ‘So what happened to upset Carrie?’ he asked, yawning as he fought off the fug from the sleeping pill. ‘I noticed we both got the big freeze this morning.’
Howie let out a long pained grunt and turned down the radio. ‘She told me last night she’s been fucking someone else. We spent most of the night rowing around you, but you slept through it.’
‘Sorry, buddy. I hate sleeping pills, but every now and then I have to take one just to get a decent eight hours.’
‘Sorry what? That you slept through it? Or that she’s been balling someone?’
They both laughed. Jack started thinking about practicalities. ‘I guess you’ve got round two coming up tonight, so I’ll fix a Holiday Inn or somewhere else to shift to.’
‘Might be an idea,’ said Howie. ‘In fact, maybe we can get a two-room discount; I’ll probably need to check in as well.’
‘It’s that bad?’
‘Maybe. The sad thing is, I really don’t know if I want to fix things. Could be that we’ve had our time. Perhaps we’re all burned out anyway.’
‘You want my advice?’
‘Go ahead.’
‘Don’t rush it. Maybe you’re right, the best might be behind you, but you’ve got the kids to think about. It could turn out to be a wake-up call for both of you.’
‘Man, right now the last thing I want is a wake-up call, I’d rather have eight hours of zedz,’ joked Howie. A news jingle trickled out of the speakers and he turned up the radio. ‘Let’s see what the friggin’ press know that we don’t.’
From the sombre tone of the newscaster’s voice Jack and Howie gathered that the first story was a tragic one, and they rightly feared that