"Terry keeps bourbon..."

"...in his office."
"Jesus!" David nearly fell out of his chair. "Beth! How long were you standing there?"
"Long enough to know that Kim's a bitch, apparently." She stepped inside and closed the door. "What's her fucking problem?"
"Listen..." David planted his feet. "I'm sorry you overheard that. You have to understand... Kim... she has trust issues."
"She's going to have Beth issues if she calls me "that slut" again." She crossed her arms. "I guess I'm not getting any shoes, huh?"
"I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you some other way."
"Come on, David. Let's take a break and snatch that bourbon."
A few minutes later, Beth was sitting on David's couch, and David was in his chair. Despite being a junior associate, his office had a small pleather couch. Beth was jealous. They were sipping Basil Hayden's out of plastic tumblers with chipped ice.
"You sure he's not going to mind?"
"I'll replace the bottle before he gets back from his sabbatical." Beth raised her "glass." David clacked it with his. "So what's the deal?"
David let out a long sigh. "The deal is... Kim has turned out to be... a little different than I thought. I defended her when people called her an airhead. Just because she's not into literature, and watches Real Housewives and obsesses over fashion. We always had fun together. But it wasn't until we tied the knot that the jealousy started."
"How long has she been calling me a slut? She's always been nice to me at events and stuff."
"That's her way. She'd never let you know. But every time I have to work late, when I get home...I won't lie...usually it's an hour long... 'discussion,' about how I'm not fucking you." He suddenly came back to himself. "Sorry. That's really rude to put it that way."
"I guess I just don't understand. Am I the only 'slut' or does she accuse you of getting down with Maggie, too?"
David nearly choked on bourbon from laughing. "Jesus Christ, don't put that image in my head."
They talked a little more, letting the bourbon loosen them up. Beth leaned back, taking another sip. "So what's going to happen? She's going to stew in a hotel room for your anniversary?"
"I don't know. She doesn't even care about it, it's only a six-month anniversary, so it doesn't count, in her book. " He sighed, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. "I don't know. I can't predict what she'll do. Sometimes she flares up and then everything's fine in an hour. Sometimes she's gone for 12 hours. And there's no rhyme or reason as to what grievance will cause what length of anger."