“No no no. We ain’t in love, we just screwin’ around!”
“Yeah, naked!” Sage says, bug-eyed.
“Shut up and drink, Soggy.” I hiss, knocking her in the arm.
“Fran, I know him. We were married! You two have chemistry!”
“I have chemistry with your jailbird ex-husband? That’s real reassuring to my character!” I say, pushing a bar peanut through my fingers and into my mouth.
“Damn, when is Halee gonna get here?” Sage wonders aloud, head whipping to examine the dingy bar.
“You ever consider that maybe a dingy bar ain’t the classiest place to meet our ritzy app-designin’ friend?”
“It’s classy enough! And anyway, weren’t we talkin’ ‘bout somethin’?”
“It don’t matter no more, whate’er I say, I screwed it up. It was ‘cause I had to, but still.”
“You didn’t have to do nothing, Francis. Jus’ talk to ‘im.”
“This is the end of this discussion. And Halee’s here anyhoo. Now, how long has it been?” I ask as our old friend approaches the bar hesitantly.
“I’d say it’s been ten years, since you dropped off the face of the Earth.” Halee says, a little bitterly. She brushes off the barstool and sits beside Sage.
“Can we order now?” I ask, waving the bartender over. He’s a stocky guy, with peach fuzz hair and barrel arms.
Sage takes over, “I’ll have a vodka martini.”
“Oh, yeah, same, but without the vermouth and the twist.”
“So just vodka?” The guy asks.
“You know me so well, Flynn.”
“Make mine a virgin.” Halee chimes in.

Halee’s hotel room is dark when we stumble up to it, save for the dim glow of the tv. She unlocks the door and we pile into the room where her husband, Frank, stands, loosely clutching a half-empty Bacardi bottle.
“You didn’t tell me you were going to be out late. And have company.” He growls, voice low and clearly not local.
“Your husband’s almost hot.” I whisper in Halee’s ear, loudly and drunkenly. She doesn’t answer, or move.
“Get rid of them.” His voice is rough.
“Guys, I think you’d better go…” Halee says, not fully turning to us.
“But- I don’t remember where I live.” I reply, a little sadly. Frank’s dark hand closes around her wrist and she winces.
“Hey…” Sage says, caution leaking through the façade in her voice.
Frank yanks Halee toward him, making her yelp with pain. She looks at us with “go away” in her faded denim eyes.
Sage’s eyes widen. “Let her go.”
“What is he going to do if we leave?” I ask, keeping my voice level as I inch discreetly into the kitchen.
“Shut your mouth…” Frank warns, tone dripping with venom.
“Don’t talk to her like that.” Sage counters, more sober than I.
“Stay out of it, b****!” Frank roars, swinging a fist toward Sage. At the same time, I bring a frying pan down on his head. With a sickening crunch, Frank’s seven foot form slumps to the floor in a dark pile.
“Oh s***…” I murmur when Frank doesn’t stir. Not a breath.
“Is he…? Did you just…?” Sage gasps, clinging to the now tear-filled Halee. I bend down, placing two fingers to Frank’s neck. Complete stillness.
“Dead.” I say, immediately sobering up. “He’s dead.”
“What do we do?” Sage asks over Halee’s sobs.
“Call Roman, I’ll make a list.”

“What the f-” Roman’s voice cuts the silence. I’m wrapping the now-nude body in a sheet.
“Look, we need your help.” Sage tells him, clasping his hands between hers. “He was coming at me, Frannie just reacted.”
“You two smell like vodka. This better not be an accident.” He says, handing out rubber gloves from his pockets. “Put these on, no more fingerprints.”
“Thank you!” Sage gasps, leaning up to kiss Roman’s cheek.
“Look Sage, I like you, but I am not touching that body.” He says, hauling a bottle of bleach from his truck.
“As an avid Bones fan, I have secret, hard-to-trace storage of things to cover this up. I have saws I stole in 2008, and some stashed lye and Sodium Hydroxide.”
“Good. Do that.”
***
That's all that will fit, but it's a segment from my story.

Report

Final score:

2points

Rage of Aquarius

POST