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She reappeared. Now to get to know each other.
ask you to leave the hotel now, please?"
"Sure thing, Doug," I replied, "sorry about the disruption, and the mess!"
Then I turned and nodded to the guys, to tell them to start the withdrawal.
Although none of Henderson's friends had waded-in, there had been a distinct possibility that someone might have felt lucky, as I left the establishment. Therefore our coordinated withdrawal had been planned in advance.
I had only gone a couple paces when Jenny called out, "Hold on a minute?"
I turned back, just in time to see my wife plant the pointed toe of her stiletto into Henderson's backside.
"You can take that as my immediate resignation!" she shouted, then hobbled over and grabbed hold of my arm. "Let's get the hell out of here?"
"Are you alright? You're limping." I asked as we approach the door.
"Bloody stilettos! Damned awkward to walk in, and bloody useless when it comes to kicking arseholes; I should have borrowed your boots before I kicked the sod.
"But they make your legs look nice!"
"I should bloody hope so; I would hate to go through the torture of wearing the things for nothing. But what's up with your hand?"
I assume I must have flinched or something as Jenny ran her hand down my arm to take hold of my hand.
"I think I broke something!"
"Poor babe, why didn't you hit him with the champagne bottle; I'm sure that's what I would have done if he did try it on with me later."
"If you'd even known what was going on Jenny! He sneaked you a good few vodkas on the quiet, you know!"
"Bugger. Large vodkas?"
"Yeah, triples as I hear it."
"Shit, another half hour or so, and I'll be right out of it. You know what vodka does to me!"
"Yeah, and by the look of it, so does Henderson."
"Damn, that last Christmas party I should imagine; there was vodka in that bleeding punch they served up there. Hit me like a bloody brick!"
"Don't I know it! We were dancing when you keeled over. I had to carry you out to the car, remember, and make all the bloody excuses to those stuck up pricks you work with."
"The bugger must have worked it out. Did he hire a good room?"
"No, run of the mill, bog standard."
"The tight-fisted bastard!"
"Hey, I thought I was the bastard tonight?"
"Well, you are. But in your case it was an accident of birth that everyone knows about. Henderson has to work hard to achieve the status. I should imagine that's why no one came to his aid this evening. He's not well liked around the office, you know?"
"I've never liked the bugger, you know that. And you also know I didn't think much of the idea of you working for him."
"Well, I don't any more, and I've got a pain in my foot to prove it?" Jenny giggled, the vodka obviously beginning to kick in.
A police car was in the process of arriving as we exited the building. But the two officers inside it - who were confronted with a crowd of rowdy, apparently drunk, rugby club members and their significant others; my distraction team - didn't find opportunity to get into the hotel and discover what had gone down before I'd loaded Jenny into our car and made a speedy getaway.
I figured I had an hour or so - before the police arrived to arrest me - to get Jenny home and safely tucked up in bed. Hey, I'm a realist; I knew how things were going to pan out. And, in the short time I had to prepare, I had made requisite arrangements.
Jenny was still talking - rubbish - when she keeled over in the car. Only her seat belt held her in the sitting position that might be construed as resembling upright.
It was as I carried Jenny into the house and up to our room that I realised that I'd have to pay a visit to the hospital myself later. The numb ache in my left hand had turned to agony as I lugged Jenny upstairs, laid her on our bed and made her comfortable. From experience I knew that she was going to be out for the count until at least lunchtime the following day and then she was going to wake up with the mother of all hangovers.
You know, in a strange way, I was looking forward to the police arriving and arresting m