He looksat me through the rearview mirror. “Don’t need to know. Just pointit at her.”
“I don’t want to hurt her.” I almost whine.
“It’s your grave, man.” He tilts his head, frustrated,bored.
I sitthere, staring at the gun in my hand, wondering how I ever gotmyself in this deep. Wondering how I’m going to get myself out ofit.
…and then I see her leaving the house, and something switchesinside my head. What was once a gutless, spineless, shadow of aman, riding on the coattails of Ellie’s success, becomes me…out forrevenge for what she never gave me, for what she refused me, andfor the humiliation that she has caused me….and I find my finger onthe trigger.
***
Maverick
It’s arisk. Standing here in a conspicuous area, waiting for thesaleslady to find the key to the glass enclosed box, but it’ll beworth it. This store is underrated, with beautiful antiques,ranging from old books to phonographs to Henry VII style furniture.Problem is, it’s in the middle of a mini-mall, in the same placewhere we buy our hardware for the ranch, and the same place wheremy mama brings her drycleaning. That’s the issue with small townliving, I suppose. Everything you need is in a mini-mall, andanything else is at the lumber store.
Ofcourse, the other problem, is that the saleslady knows me well. Mymama’s bought plenty of things from her, and we all go to the samechurch. So anything I buy from here, everyone in town is going toknow about it. “How’s this one, Maverick?” she asks, handing me adiamond solitaire, with old-world style fillagree under the shank.It’s perfect. I know that Ellie’s not the fancy type, not withjewellery, anyhow.
“I’m not sure of her size, see.”
“It’s fine.” She waves. “We can size it later,doll.”
“And you’re sure this stone is real?”
“It’s a quarter carat, and I can give you a certificate forthe cut, carat weight and clarity. It’s all included.” Sheexplains. “The ring has been freshly cleaned and polished, too, andthere’s a wedding band to match.”
“Is there a band for me, too?”
Shetilts her head and frowns, regretfully. “No, sorry. But I do haveone that will match rather nicely. Would you like to seethat?”
“Sure.” I nod.
As Iwatch her eye some men’s rings to her left, I look up, catching aglimpse of someone walking next to the open glass doors. And assoon as I make eye contact with Blake, I roll my eyes. He smiles,walking towards me. “Mama said you’d gone into town. I needed tocome in, too, I could have offered to pick up…err…” he hesitates,seeing the ring on the glass display in front of me. “Oh, myapologies. This is a rather personal purchase here.” He chuckles.“You devil, you. Is this what I think it is?” he asks, pointing tothe engagement ring.
“It is. And you say anything to a soul I’ll kill you.” Ithreaten under my breath, but my eyes betray me. I’m so happy I’mgiddy. I can’t wait to ask Ellie to be my wife.
“Your secret’s safe with me, my brother.” Blake claps me onthe back. “I’ll leave you to it. Good luck, man.”
“Thanks.”
I end uppurchasing all three bands, giving the saleslady enough for amonth’s commission, and I can’t help but smile, feeling the fuzzybox in my pocket. Haven’t decided when I’ll give it to her, but theway that I’m feeling, I’ll end up giving it to her tonight. Thereis nothing stopping me. Except for this eerie feeling I get when Ipull up to her house. Her car isn’t there, and I kick myself fornot calling or texting her first. But as I look around, feelinglike I’m being watched, I realize that this eerie feeling hasnothing to do with what’s in my pocket.
…and then I see it. A strange limousine parked just up thestreet. The windows are darkened, so I can’t see the driver. Myfamily has seen enough trouble lately, and so I follow my gut,which tells me to pull out and go up the street, out of sight, tosee what this limo is up to.
…something tells me that it’s up to no good.
***
Ellie
One ofmy clients refuses to do business over the phone, which is fine byme, but it’s usually just an excuse for her to get me to a bar, gettanked, and have me drive her home. She’s a lonely, middle-agedwoman, with no children or husband, who was left a king’s ransomwhen her rich boyfriend died a couple of years ago. She swore shewouldn’t squander his money, and she hasn’t, by any means, but it’sa pain in my ass whenever she calls me. This woman is one of mybest clients and I absolutely cannot say no to her.
Pru is abeautiful woman, who could have any man she wants, hands down, butshe is dead against getting involved again, since her boyfrienddied. I think she’s still mourning, poor soul, so I always humorher. Why she picks the most sketchy bars to meet at is beyond me. Ifigure it’s a ploy. If she’s seen at an expensive establishment,then people will know, but this is safe. We speak almost in code,so nobody is the wiser, and our business is usually complete in thefirst ten minutes of our meeting. It’s usually the celebratory hourthat follows that is the problem.
“So, what’s new with you?” she asks, after the business end ofthis meeting is over.
“I met someone.” I smile, thinking that telling Pru aboutMaverick is way safer than telling her about the unborn child in mybelly.
“Oh yeah? Is your divorce final?” she asks, impressed. Godlove her.
