The Night the Gin Froze - Part III

Part III – Abandon

Alan laughed when Brittany blocked his meager show of affection.  They had known each other for six months prior to the trip and little of that time had spent upright.  He knew she wouldn’t be around come the New Year but he had thought they would make it back to the States.  He regretted losing her given how lovely she was to look at.  He would hang her as art in his bedroom if he could. 

Thomas was his usual concupiscent self.  Alan occasionally picked women for these trips with him in mind.  Poor Thomas still considered himself the lothario he was in college.  But Charlene would only turn a blind eye for so many before she would reel Thomas back in with one of their vehement fights. 

The Night the Gin Froze - Part II

Part II – Indenture

“Oh for God’s sake, Char!  When are you going to stop trotting out that moth-eaten story?”  Thomas said pouring another round of wine for all.  He gave a wink to Brittany as he topped her off, sure she appreciated the attention.  Thomas elected himself ambassador to all of Alan’s girls. Somebody had to pay attention to them during the day.

Charlene finished her story, laughing as much as those listening.  The wine had saturated everyone’s mood.  “The little brat!”  Charlene cackled. 

Brittany, who had been watching Alan’s phone as he played some game, tuned back into the story.  “Was it your kid?”

The group’s laughter died to an awkward titter. Glances darted from one member to the next.

The Night the Gin Froze

Part I - Ascending

Brittany jumped as wind howled throughout the house again. A small whistle emitted from its point of entry, but the sound dissipated as quickly as the rushing air. A second gust outside slammed the beaten shutters into the window frame.
“Is it raining yet?” Charlene asked.
“No, it doesn’t rain – they’re just wind storms.” Paul answered.
“And this place is known for them?” Janie asked placing a hand on the small of Paul’s back.
“Quite. The guide book says it helped them in a few wars.”
“What war did we fight in Arles?” Brittany asked.
Paul took a deep breath. Alan’s taste in women had not improved much with age. “We did not fight the wars – the French did. And the wars to which they are referring are the Roman battles, I believe. “
Brittany looked at Paul blankly for a moment. Then she lifted her empty wine glass in Alan’s direction and shook it at him.
“Coming, darling.” Alan said in a mock falsetto, selecting one of the many open bottles.
Another flurry tore past the windows as a mysterious wafting intruder whipped around the interior.
“Seriously, why can’t we find where that’s coming from?” Thomas asked walking the periphery of the room again.