I’d just put the kettle on when my phone pinged. A text from Hubs: Done in 5 then home.
Oh, that’s sweet, I thought. Hubs being considerate.
But then a string of smiley faces appeared, followed by red and purple hearts, several glasses of wine, fireworks, and, lastly, more smiley faces.
I considered replying with a smirky face but the water boiled. So I made tea instead.
It was nice to know Hubs was finally in a good mood. That he’d stopped being so suspicious of every little thing I did.
Still. Something gnawed. Why all the smiley faces? Why not just come out and say: “Home soon, care for a romp?”
I checked my phone for one last bit of information, then fetched a pink bag from the bedroom and dumped out the contents.
Yes, this is definitely the way to go.
It was important that everything be right when Hubs got home. And that I be ready for him.
And I was.
“Damn, Lil,” Hubs said when he walked through the door. “You should wear that more often.”
“Oh, you like this?” I let my hand fall along the contours of the lace teddy that I’d picked out.
A lustful smile took over his face. “I’m one lucky man.”
“Oh, you have no idea, and your luck is just getting started.”
I shimmied across the room, then slipped my arms around his torso, my hands dipping down to his belt.
As he grabbed my ass I found what I was looking for.
“Hey!” Hubs screamed like a stuck pig when I ripped the semi-automatic pistol from his waistband.
I took a step back and leveled the muzzle at his throat.
“Lil! What the fuck?!”
“You went to the graveyard.”
“What? No.”
“Don’t lie.” I held up my phone. “I have you lo-jacked.”
“Since when?”
“Since the feds started doing drive-bys. I told you we should get the fuck out of town, but you dragged your feet, now I know why.”
“Please, Lil, let me explain.”
“Not necessary. You went to the graveyard to steal some schmuck’s name off a gravestone so you could apply for a birth certificate under a new identity.”
“No, you’re wrong.”
“Bullshit. You’re skipping town. I guess it just slipped your mind to loop me in.”
Hubs took a step to my left, angling to hit me from my blindside. “I’d never do that to you, Lil,” he said. “You gotta believe me.”
“Do I?”
~ fin ~
Dave Kunz is a Minnesota writer of thrillers and crime stories. His flash fiction has appeared in Mystery Tribune, Yellow Mama, and Close To The Bone. He also has been produced as a playwright and a screenwriter. Dave is currently working on his fourth novel.
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