The first time I laid eyes on her; I had just robbed a liquor store and gunned down two people in cold blood. As I trotted out the front door, I had a wad of twenties in my hand, and a smoldering .38 stuck into my belt, and there she was, leaning against the trunk of my new Lexus puffing on a cigarette like a prom queen on meth.
Normally, I would have pulled my piece and just wasted her right there because you just don’t lean on a guy’s new ride. But there was something different about her. She didn’t run, or hide, or scream like a maniac because there was a guy with a gun.
She just sat there with her rump on my trunk, and her stiletto heel on my bumper, her dark eyes fixed on me.
I pulled up short, when she did something so surprising it caught me completely off guard, and I almost laughed out loud. She flicked her cigarette at my head, and I had to duck, or it would have hit me in the face.
I held up my hands and in a mocking manner shouted, “Hey! I got the gun.”
“I can see that,” she replied. “But I got this.” She stood, pulled up her mini-skirt, and revealed the gentle curves of a woman in her prime.
For me… it was love at first sight.
She dropped the skirt and crossed her long legs, “You got enough cash there to buy a girl an ice cream, Cowboy?”
Now, I did laugh. “Yeah, but I’m in a bit of a hurry.”
“Well, then I suggest we get a move on.” She held out her hand as if she was royalty, so I took it and helped her into the car. I made sure she fastened her seatbelt, and that irritated her, which made me laugh even harder.
Turns out she smokes my brand, so we lit up, and I sprayed gravel all over the parking lot as we headed out for some dessert.
As luck would have it, she was a damn good navigator. She had me go this way, and that, down several alleys, and across a small bridge that I didn’t even know existed. When it was all said and done we’d completed more twists then a Hollywood movie; finally we popped out into a nice little neighborhood. She directed me to the curb in front of, Lucy’s Creamery. It was perfect timing as we both snubbed out our spent smokes.
Always the gentleman, I asked her to wait.
I got out of the car and opened the door for her.
She emerged, all legs, boobs, and big black hair. It was turning out to be my kind of day.
We entered the shop and it was empty. I ordered something simple, a small sundae with some strawberry goo drizzled on top. I don’t particularly like strawberries, but I do have a strange obsession for the color red. She ordered, The Big Kahuna, which was enough to feed a family of four. It had eight scoops of ice cream, any flavor you wanted, and it was doused in chocolate and pineapple bits. I have to admit, it looked pretty good, but I’m watching my forty year old figure.
I picked a table in the corner, hidden from open view, but with a clear line of sight to the street. She dug right in. But I lit up a smoke.
A skinny kid with pock marks, and an officious looking badge came over, pointed to a no smoking sign, and told me to put it out. When I didn’t move, he leaned forward and dangled an armful of tattoos in front of me like he had something more to say about the matter.
She set her spoon down and pointed a long slender finger at him. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” was all she said. It didn’t take him a second to get the message, and he decided to move on to some business in the back.
I appreciated her stepping in, because I was about to kill him, and I hadn’t even touched my ice cream yet.
So, I smoked, and she ate. When I snubbed out my butt and dropped it to the floor, she was half way through her dessert.
“So you rob many liquor stores?” she asked.
“A few,” I replied. “I do it mostly because, well, because I can. It’s not an obsession or anything. It’s not like I need the money.”
“I was wondering.” She spooned some chocolate sauce into her beautiful mouth. “Mighty expensive ride you got out there for a guy who robs liquor stores,” she said, as some sauce dribbled down the side of her ruby red lips.
“What about the people you shot?”
“Killing’s a hobby,” I answered, as I handed her a napkin.
“So you shoot people for fun and rob them because you can.”
“What else do you do?”
“I like to go bowling.”
“No shit…” She leaned forward and pulled a cigarette from my pack. She lit it and blew a large cloud of smoke at the ceiling. “Would you like to know something about me?” she asked.
She leaned even closer, and I could smell the scent of violets drifting from her neck. “I thirst for blood too.”
“You don’t say,” I replied.
“Yup, in fact, I thought about popping you. But I kind of took a shine to you.”
“You know, I had those same feelings, like we were made for each other.”
We sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, as she smoked, and I ate. Then she asked, “What are you doing this weekend?”
“No concrete plans,” I replied.
“What do say we get in that car of yours, drive to Vegas, and get married.”
I pulled out my keys and laid them on the table. “I have to drive,” I said.
“I insist,” she replied, as she stood and looked at me.
“Maybe we should hit this place before we go?” I asked. “Get some extra cash.”
“Not now, Honey. I’ll let you know when.” She headed for the door, and I followed.
Bellakentuky is a short story author who writes what’s on his mind from Corrientes, Argentina and Saint Paul, Minnesota – http://www.bellakentuky.com