[I've been watching a lot of film noir and reading a shit ton of Agatha Christie novels on my iKindle. Love it. Agatha Christie was a master of character development and dialogue. If I could write a fraction as well as she did, I could die happy.]
I think I'm one of those people who doesn't know how to let things go.
I swiveled in my chair and nodded to Harry as he walked in.
"What's up?" I asked, casual-like, as Harry slid into an armchair near me.
"Same old rum bullshit," Harry grinned, as he reached for a cigarette. I offered him a light, but he waved me away. He pulled out his battered old Zippo instead and set himself up.
"Yeah, tell me something I don't know," I replied, taking a deep drag of my own. I motioned to the cocktail waitress to set Harry up with something, along with round two for myself.
It was a rough few days for me and I just wanted to sit back and relax. Some days I wasn't sure what I was so jumped up about, but I could feel the muscles in my neck taut like piano wire. I reached back and rubbed the back of my neck with one hand. I winced at how tight it was. They say that stress can be a habit. They say stress can kill. Whoever "they" are. Jesus fucking Christ I just needed to get some decent rest. Things were going good as long as nothing fucked up. Well, I guess that's always the catch, isn't it.
It was at that moment, that she walked in. I felt every muscle in my body tense up, a fight-or-flight response all the way. I felt Harry's hand involuntarily on my shoulder, but I shoved it away gently.
"I'm cool," I said, without taking my eyes off of her, "I'm cool."
Harry looked at me doubtfully, but he knew better than to interfere.
I watched her slither across the open floor like the poisonous snake I knew her to be. But goddamn did she look gorgeous tonight. I wasn't the only one looking and she knew it. I could see her take it all in appreciatively as her rightful due. Fucking bitch. Harry was getting nervous, poor guy, he never knew what to do around her and she knew it. Made that poor man as uncomfortable as she could, smiling sweet as sugar the whole while. I had a theory as to why Harry jumped like a rabbit every time she showed up and an even better idea why he couldn't look me in the eye when she was around. I didn't blame him. She had that effect and he was just a poor dumb bastard. Like me.
She stood poised at the door, surveying her kingdom so to speak, until her gaze rested on me. She stared at me with those sultry green eyes and I stared right back at the bitch. I wanted her to know just how much I hated her. Her eyes widened at the intensity of my glare, and she smiled. How predictable. She started coming toward us. Somewhere outside my field of vision, I vaguely heard Harry's muttering voice.
"Don't do it, man, it's not worth it. Just let it go. "
Fuck that bitch. She ruined my life and I couldn't forget it. Here I was, trying to catch a little R&R in my favorite joint with my best bud, and that witch spawn somehow knew exactly where to find me. It wouldn't have surprised me one bit if she had called around to find out exactly where I was. As far as I knew, none of my friends would give her the time of day. But that isn't to say there's not a crack here and there. Nobody's perfect.
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