Were they outnumbered, or just stupid?
“Gentlemen.”
“You don’t look Italian.”
What a thing to lead with.I smiled without showing teeth.“My Irish half overpowered it.”And my Sardinian half told me to stop right where I had room to maneuver but was close enough to grab a meat shield.“Where’s Johnny Porciello?”
“He’s not one of us.”
The rest nodded along.
Liars.
“You’re not one of us.”
Not only liars, dumbasses.“What’s your last name?”
“None of your business.”The speaker was one hundred and eighty-seven centimeters of dead man.
I tested the rest.“Is that true?”
“Yeah hotshot, we’re not scared of you.”The shadows above the second trailer moved.
“You don’t need to be scared of death.It comes for us all.” Owning when it did was a blessing.I checked my watch for the time.The man in front reached for his gun.
Exactly two minutes and thirty-eight seconds later, there were only bodies.I pulled out my phone and dialed from memory.“Hi Charley, I’d like to make dinner reservation for five.”I rattled off the address and waited for the cleaning crew.
9
Ellie
For a Wednesday, the bar was crowded.Weekend regulars crowded the stools and filled the tables.Excitement was high, and the blarney was flying.I was in my element, tossing little verbal bombs into dying conversations and moving on to spike the next explosion of laughter.
Although not everyone was a local.
A woman sat at one of the tables.Slightly unusual.Singles usually gravitated toward the bar so they wouldn’t be trapped.That spoke of confidence.Worse?She’d nursed a light beer most of the night.I stopped by the table while picking up messes and asked if she needed anything.
Instead of answering me, she asked, “I heard you got married.”Her eyes dipped to my empty ring finger.
By now, most of my inner circle knew the wedding was a bust, but it still was a topic of conversation at the pub.Since I hadn’t bothered coming clean, I lied.
“That’s right.”
“Where’s your husband?”
While her tone was kind enough, there was some thread of pressure underneath the words that goaded me into action.
“He’s fucking some chick.It’s an open marriage.I’d be upset if it weren’t for the sleep I’m finally getting.”
Her face barely twitched.
And that’s where the spiders working their way up my nerves started weaving overtime.I scanned her from sensible shoes to business-casual blazer.“Wanna threesome?”
Her eyes dipped to my ring finger again.“Why aren’t you wearing your ring?”
“It’s a bar.Do you honestly think I’m going to be dunking twenty-five carats in dirty dishwater all night?”
Here’s where she pretended to accept my smokescreen.
