It was supposed to be a nice event with some class. The whole thing was Shawna’s idea and Wallace just went along with it because he didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth about what and who they really were. He suspected she knew it and this whole party was just some pathetic last grasp at convincing herself that they were something more.

            She’d got it in her head that they were filthy white trash because their neighbor had recently put their old fridge out in the driveway, just off the carport. This minor move had somehow convinced Shawna that they were trailer scum, no better than how she’d grown up. Wallace had come from a working class background; his folks were no better or no worse than anyone else, he supposed. It wasn’t until he met Shawna that he realized how different people could be. She was fixated on the idea of upward mobility, as she phrased it. The idea that they could move into the middle class with some hard work and a little bit of luck was all she thought about. Their drinking got the best of both of them, though. They were drunks. It was a fact that no amount of money or effort could alleviate.

            That Saturday night she set up a dinner party for them and a couple of the neighbors. She claimed it was nothing fancy, but Wallace knew better. He suspected it was part of her plan to fool those around them into thinking they had some class. Shawna spent Friday night cleaning up their bungalow while he watched the Bama game against LSU. Things were taking shape for her. She even set the table with their only good glassware. It was a wedding gift from Wallace’s parents, the only thing they’d given them of any value since they’d been together.

            The night of the party got off to a bad start when Shawna forgot she already took her anxiety meds and popped a second pill to calm down. One glass of red wine in and she was feeling tipsy before anyone had showed up.

            “Pace yourself tonight, huh?”

            “Same goes for you,” she shot back quickly.

            “And please don’t mention anything about the fridge.”

            “Why not?”

            “Because it’ll come off as being a nag and sound bitchy. I thought you were trying to get them to like you, us?” He said.

            “I am. They will. They do. Just worry about yourself. Okay?”

            She overcooked a rack of lamb she bought on sale at the grocery store but didn’t care because she was already on her second drink.

            The two couples arrived right on time and brought some more wine with them, as gifts. Wallace sighed, knowing she’d drink it in no time.

            Halfway through the appetizer, Shawna could tell that Wallace was pissed off about missing an important football game. It was a heated rivalry that would no doubt impact the national rankings. That’s all he said in between swigs of beer. Nobody else cared, not even the other men, something that Wallace found more perplexing with each drink consumed. No one seemed to notice that the transfer quarterback for the Crimson Tide was on pace for a historic season or that he could win the Heisman. Shawna could tell he was frustrated because the vein on the side of his head was throbbing and his neck had turned bright red. Something had to be done.

            Shawna excused herself to go to the bathroom and Wallace watched her walk into the bedroom and close the door. He worried she was up to something, maybe taking more pills, and that he’d have to carry the conversation for the rest of the night. When she did come back to the table she had a smirk plastered across her face. Wallace felt uneasy.

            She was seated across from him and began to play footsie under the table. She winked at him and motioned with her eyes for him to look under the table as the other guests talked about their jobs. They were oblivious to this little side plot as they collectively liked to hear themselves talk and proclaim how good they were. Wallace dropped his napkin and ducked under to see what the commotion was all about. She hiked up her summer dress and exposed herself to him. She wasn’t wearing any underwear and had a toy inserted. She was feeling frisky. He’d have to wrangle hold of her soon enough or risk having the neighbors see her in her true element. He knew this was important to her and that, in her own weird way, she’d manufactured this little sexual detour as a way to apologize for making him go through with the event, so he’d have to play the serious role for the rest of the night.

            As they ate their main course, Shawna’s naughty look only intensified. She was tipsy and horny. Her smirk quickly turned to a full on smile. She was in one of her moods. Wallace steered the conversation back toward the game but no one bit. Between that and her actions, he was embarrassed. If she was going to host an event, she might as well do it right. She texted him to join her in the bedroom immediately. They each excused themselves separately and promised to only be a minute. The guests didn’t seem to mind, as talk had now turned to neighborhood gossip and another bottle of wine had been opened.

            “What are you doing?” He said.

            “We’ve got a problem,” she said.

            “I’ll say. You want to do this,” he looked her up and down. “And I just want this night to be over already.”

            “No, it’s stuck.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “I mean it’s stuck up there, in there.” She could barely get the words out.

            “Lay down on your back.” Wallace smirked at the irony of his words, at this whole situation she’d put them in.

            “Fine.”

            “I swear to god if this is just some prank to get me to play along, I’ll go nuts!”

            As Wallace hiked up her Shawna’s skirt and took a better look, they heard two knocks on their bedroom door. One of the guests had gotten curious. Wallace froze and whispered for Shawna to remain silent. He could see the shadow of the guests' feet under the door frame.