Page 1 of You Were Invited
one
At the clinkof glass and the crinkle-rustle of shopping bags, Annie Turner’s fingers froze over her keyboard. Curious, she saved her work and crawled out of bed. Her bare feet padded down the hall from the master bedroom. Amid a pile of plastic bags, her boyfriend, Chris, stood in the kitchen as he unpacked his groceries.
Early 2000s dance tunes poured through the speakers of his stereo while he sang along: “Waitin’ for the right time… hmmm, mmm… I’m leavin’... Oh… Me and the rest of my heathens…” His head bobbed out of sync, a goofy grin on his face.
Annie couldn’t help but chuckle. She smiled tiredly as she scanned the bags on the floor. Her eyes picked over the chips, lettuce, and ground beef. A dozen avocados balanced on the edge of the kitchen island. Her body tensed, ready to dive and save the dark-skinned fruits if they toppled to the floor.
Chris extracted two large liquor bottles. His broad hands gripped their necks like dead fowl in a dog’s mouth. He dipped down and pulled out two more bottles from the pile of bags. She caught sight of a familiar swashbuckling pirate and a pair of palm trees.
Her smile died an instant death, the corners turning down in disgust for a microsecond. She wrung the edge of her sweatshirt. “Was there a big sale?” she asked.Stupid, she thought.Henever does the weekly shopping. God, I thought he was doing us a favor for once!She watched him empty the last bag. Her eyes flitted over the counters, searching.He forgot bread, dish soap, and the toothpaste!
Chris smoothed down his dark hair, which was stiffly gelled against his scalp. Three years before, he’d had well-toned arms. Lance Armstrong himself would’ve been jealous of his calves. Now, his belly pooched over the waist of his gym shorts,his ruddy-complexioned face round and puffy.
Her lip curled involuntarily.Did he hear me?Annie frowned and cleared her throat. “What’s with all this?”
“What? It’s for tonight.”
“Tonight?”
“Huh?” Chris turned and pulled his shoulders back. “Yeah... I told you, babe. About the birthday party.”
She blinked.When?He totally didn’t.“Another party? So soon? Birthday for who?”
“Sam.”
“Where…?”
“Here…?”
Annie blanched. “Here?”
“What’re you, a parrot?” He reached for a fifth bottle on the counter with a dark red foil cap. “Polly want a glass of wine?”
She blinked in disgust.
He raised a brow. “Don’t look at me like that. We need a night off.”
“I can’t. I’m still getting caught up with work.”
“Don’t be so fucking boring,” he said, throwing a smile her way, intending to be playful.
Annie wrinkled her nose.
Rolling his eyes, he added, “Take that stick out sometime.” He grinned. “Take it easy, babe.”
She sighed. “Can we turn down the music? Please?”
Snatching up the empty bags, he shook his head and muttered something unintelligible under his breath. He motioned to the groceries with a petulant wave. “Put the chips in some bowls, will ya?”
Tension pulsated behind her eyes. He always wrangled her into party prep, but this time she couldn't bring herself to do it. She dreaded nothing more than yet another one of Christopher's wild house parties. It would be days before the nauseating scent of alcohol left the house.
Turning, she walked back to their bedroom.
Her gaze settled on the bed with its gray bedspread. It triggered the same feeling she might have being handed a glass of lemonade after a spell under a blazing sun. She fluffed her squashed support pillows. The blankets felt so welcoming. So soft that she pressed her face into one of the pillows, rolled over, and curled her legs up to her chest. The urgency to write that had filled her a moment before was pushed away.
Her laptop screen displayed the draft of the centerfold article she owed “At the Root Level.” In three weeks, thousands of subscribers would get the newest edition of the gardening magazine. She was excited to flip through pages of stunning photographs, and admire the delicate watercolor illustrations. Her best friends, Molly and Peter, were counting down the days, too.
Churning out one stellar article after another brought with it an effervescent pride, which she rode like a wave days after submittal. Her boss, Leonard Princely, sprinted through edits like he was gulping down water. They’d only met face-to-face twice over video call, and both times it had felt like flyingstupid closeto the sun. Working for him was her crowning achievement.But the sheer amount of work stacked on Annie’s plate made her queasy.
