As Donna swung her BMW onto Golf Club Road and buried the gas pedal into the carpet, she was already planning what she was going to say to her husband. Ever since she'd got the "can you come pick me up from the golf club? I'm too drunk to drive..." text from him 30 minutes ago she hadn't stopped scowling. His days golfing were meant to be her days of relaxing, gardening, lunch with the girls and whatever else she damn well wanted to do. Instead, she was acting like a chauffeur, doing Craig's bidding.
He must already know he's never going to hear the end of this, Donna thought as she reached the golf club and swung the car into the nearest parking space. Getting out of the car, her scowl got even more intense as she noticed Craig's own Audi parked just two spaces over from her. He'd better have put his golf clubs in there already, Donna's internal monologue got even angrier, there's no way they're going in my car after I've had it valeted. She walked quickly up to the clubhouse, ignoring everyone staring at her figure as she walked - she was too used to it to be flattered.
"Excuse me, ma'am!" A man's voice called out to her and Donna looked round. A young black man, was waving his hand at her. He had on a set of immaculate white coveralls with sleeves rolled up, that contrasted against the black of his face and toned, muscular arms. He was obviously an employee of the club.
"You can't park there," he half-shouted at her from a distance, "that space is reserved for the Club President!"
This fucking club seems hell bent on pissing me off, Donna thought, before smartly responding "I'll park wherever I want to park! And if you don't like it, park the damn car yourself!" She threw the car keys in his general direction before walking up and into the clubhouse. She stormed through the clubhouse until she reached the terrace outside and saw her husband. Her scowl deepened even more when she saw the friends he was surrounded with - the ones she couldn't stand.
"Craig," she said to the back of his head. He turned around.
"Donna!" He exclaimed, "come, sit down, have a drink! You remember my buddies from the course?" All five of them raised their drinks at Donna, who didn't even smile.
"I can't have a drink," she said, "because a) I'm driving, and b) we can't stay, we have to get going. Come on." She turned round to leave, but suddenly heard a cough from the table.
"Craig's not going anywhere yet." Bobby, one of Craig's friends (and by far Donna's least favourite of the whole bunch) had his hand planted on Craig's shoulder, and he mimicked Donna'a voice as he spoke again "because a) this is guys' time and we're going to make the most of it and b) he's the only one here who hasn't bought a round yet, so he's going to pay his dues, then you can do whatever you want with him!" He and the rest of the table laughed, though more nervously than Bobby. Donna glared at Craig.
"Is that how it's going to be?" She said to him. Craig sheepishly shrugged, "fine," Donna concluded, in such a way that meant it was absolutely not fine at all. She span on her heel and stormed back to the car. He can just get himself a taxi whenever he feels like. When she got to the car she reached around in her handbag for her keys, before the realisation hit her like a stone. She'd thrown her keys to some groundskeeper, and god knows where on this thousand-acre club he's going to be. Donna decided she'd ask at reception and, her face red with embarrassment and anger, she turned round and headed back for the clubhouse. However, before she'd even made it to the clubhouse, she spotted the groundskeeper from a distance, joined by another black man, this one in a shirt and tie and wearing a green blazer.
"Hey!" Donna called to them, "I don't suppose it's possible to get my car keys back? I'm just about to leave now." As the two men got closer and closer, she heard the groundskeeper say to the other guy "that's her, dad - she's the one that parked in your parking space." As the two men got closer, Donna realised firstly how tall they both were and secondly how broad they both were. The third thing Donna noticed about them was how quickly they closed the distance to her before the man in the green blazer grabbed her by her hair.
"So you're the white bitch who thinks it's okay to park wherever the fuck you want?" He said, raising his voice during the sentence, "who even are you? You're not a member here, I know that for damn sure."
"D...Donna," she stammered out, "my husband - Craig - he's a member here, out on the terrace."
