ATC Memes
“You’ll tell them that we made out?” “Yeah, it’s more believable that way”. I grimace, and she notices. “You’re gonna stand there and slut shame a woman that just killed a guy? That’s not too smart” I shake my head and play it off by saying the grimace was because it’s a weak story. I hope she believes me, I don’t want to end up like the other guy.
We walk back into the FBO. I expect the whole place to stare at us when we walk in. It was just the opposite…no one seemed to notice. “Play it cool man”, she says to me. I take a deep breath and channel my inner Don Draper. “Hey Siri, remind me to watch Madmen Later”. “I got it, I will remind you to watch Madmen later”. Thanks Siri, I can always depend on you.
I head to the bathroom…I have to get away from this chick for a while. I’ve gotta clear my head. I walk into the private bath, and move towards the sink. I turn the water on, and wash my face. I keep thinking about DNA and all that other “Forensic shit” she mentioned. God, what have I done? Just as I finish drying my face, she walks in, and quickly closes the door. “You aren’t getting cold feet are you?”, she asks.
“No, I just wanted to wash up”. She looks at me with “side eye”. She thinks I’m gonna tell the police what happened. She’s here to kill me too. No way sweetheart. She walks towards me, obviously holding something to her side, just out of my sight. She’s got a knife, or maybe even that same brick. I don’t hesitate. I connect with a right hook that would make Ali proud. The punch lands squarely on her left shoulder (not on her face, as I would have hoped). “What are you doing?” she asks, but she knows what I’m doing…because she’s here to do the same thing to me. She swipes at me with the kitchen knife that she had been hiding to her side. She misses as I step back. This is happening now. I am locked in mortal combat with a woman that I didn’t know an hour ago.
I square up and swing at her again, this time I land a glancing blow to her left cheek. It’s enough to get her off balance. I grab at the knife. I have her hand locked up and I attempt to use my body weight to my advantage. I give her a solid elbow jab to her face. She’s done now. She drops the knife and I go in for a deep “side choke”. Now it’s a waiting game. She struggles, but she is no match for my superior strength. I easily have a hundred pounds on her. After some flailing, she starts to fade. I wait long enough before loosening my hold on her. I don’t need her to be faking, and kill me while my back is turned.
There I am, standing over her…drenched in sweat again. What am I gonna do? I have too much adrenaline coursing through my veins to think up an excuse. Do I just say “Fuck it”, jump in my Mooney, and fly on down to Mexico? What about Lydia, and the kids? Ohh Lydia…what have I done? I can’t handle prison. I’m not made for that. I’ll just head home, and see my family one last time.
I open the door just enough to squeeze out. I don’t want a passerby to see her body. I start down the hallway, towards the front door. I hear a door open behind me. “Hey asshole. Where’s that bitch that hit me?”, screams a voice from behind. A chill runs down my spine. The sweat on my face feels like the arctic. I turn around and see him in all his douchiness…it’s the Gulfstream pilot. He wasn’t dead after all.
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