Breaking Up Is Hard to Do by Ed Gorman

Author:Ed Gorman [Gorman, Ed]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Hard-Boiled, Mystery & Detective
ISBN: 9781480462595
Google: f1JRAgAAQBAJ
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 2004-01-01T11:00:00+00:00

I fell asleep just before the ten o’clock news, not waking up until just before six. I dressed in yesterday’s clothes and drove over to my place.

I let myself in, being as quiet as possible. I opened the door to the meows of the three cats who stared up at me with long, guilt-inducing gazes. How dare I spend the night somewhere else? But I could see their bowls from here. They’d been fed well and their water had been refreshed and filled to the brim in the bowl.

A voice said, “Don’t worry about us. We’ve been up all night.”

I walked into the area that I used as the living room. Stu sat on the couch, smoking a cigarette. He wore pajamas and his hair was mussed and he needed a shave. A pillow was propped up against the arm of the couch. On the opposite end was a blanket.

“I slept on the couch.”

“Why?”

“I’ll tell you why. Because I’m leaving him.”

The beautiful Pamela Forrest was sitting up in the middle of my bed. She too wore pajamas and her hair was mussed. She didn’t need a shave.

“Why’re you leaving him?”

“Why? We patched things up last night and I told him I loved him and was glad he’d come back to get me. And then I told him about this art class I was taking and it started all over again.”

“What started all over again?”

She gave him a disgusted look and said, “You tell him, Stu. And then just listen to yourself.”

Stu seemed embarrassed. “Well.”

“Well, he got jealous. As usual. That’s why I left him. When I said our marriage wasn’t what I’d imagined it would be? Well, that’s the real reason. All those other reasons I gave you all boil down to this, McCain. He’s so jealous he wants to keep me locked up all the time.”

“What’s wrong with art classes, Stu?”

“You don’t know her, McCain. The way she flirts. She takes an art class—especially one at night—I’ll lose her for sure. I mean, back here, I didn’t have any competition. No offense, McCain. I mean, nothing personal. But I was the only guy she was interested in. But in Chicago—”

“That’s why I’m leaving him, McCain. ‘The way she flirts.’ God, I never flirt.”

“The party at Judge Armstrong’s house? That Peruvian bastard.”

“He was an Argentinean bastard.”

“Well, whatever he was, he had his eyes down your blouse.”

“There isn’t all that much to see down my blouse, Stu. I shouldn’t have to tell you that, of all people.”

“How many times did you slow dance with him?”

“Twice.”

“Oh, bullshit, Pamela. Don’t make it worse by lying about it.”

I just let them go. I doubted they even noticed. I grabbed fresh clothes and repaired to the shower. When I came out, I was ready to go.

Stu wasn’t on the couch.

Then I heard a moaning sound.

I turned. They were on the bed. They were under the covers and I do believe he was inside her, the noises she was making.

But she was still able to look around his arm at me and say, “We made up, McCain.

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