Coming to kill you.
D’angelo read the text, fumbled his phone back into his pocket, then spun around.
- * *
3 HOURS EARLIER
Orange glow of the sun hovered over the horizon. D’angelo had just gotten his head shaved and beard trimmed at the local barber shop. Nothing unusual this day – other than the young girl who’d nearly killed herself crossing the street. She had headphones in and never checked for cars before setting foot on the crosswalk. D’angelo spotted and grabbed her before a BMW plowed her into oblivion. The thanks he’d gotten from those nearby was great, but the fact he didn’t have to wait around to file a witness report was thanks in itself.
D’angelo lived a good life – lots a work, a little play… What more is there? A long day with a few good sales called for a drink at the local pub.
Whiskey and ginger, that was his shit. Lakers game on a Tuesday evening didn’t require much. But that’s when she entered – thick body, round cheeks, and a streak of purple in her jet black hair. Girl’s a freak – just his type.
“Number,” she said.
D’angelo eyed her, then checked over his opposite shoulder. “Who you talking to?”
“Ghost behind you.”
Dangelo smiled and laughed. She didn’t.
“What’s your name?” he said.
“Order me a drink.”
D’angelo scratched his neck, then whistled for the bartender.
“Yes?” said the bartender.
“Get this lady a cocktail.”
“Try again,” she said.
“Margarita,” said D’angelo.
The bartender raised his eyebrows at her.
“Coors Light,” she said.
“Sunset,” she said.
“Your name’s sunset?”
The bartender brought over her drink.
“Yes,” said Sunset. Soon as she took the Coors Light, she swapped it with D’angelo’s whiskey ginger. Sunset sucked down D’angelo’s drink through the skinny red straw ’till nothing but ice remained.
“Who do you think you-“
“Open your ears, I told you already. Phone number,” said Sunset, before holding out her phone.
D’angelo scoffed, then shook his head. “I’m not into bossy women, you know,” he said, then entered his number into her contacts. He gave the phone back to her.
Sunset stood up and started away. D’angelo grabbed her by the elbow.
“Where you going?”
She looked down at the grip he had on her, then slowly lifted her gaze until her purple lasers were aimed at him. “Don’t,” she said.
“Okay, alright.” He let go. “Sorry.”
“Me too,” she said, then started off.
D’angelo swiveled on the bar stool, stood up and spat out his words.”For leaving, or what?”
The clicking of Sunset’s heels ceased. She kept her back to him for a moment, then rotated around slowly. When she faced him again, she wore a red lipstick smile from ear to ear. Sunset strolled back to D’angelo, cupped her hands around his ears, then pushed a wet kiss onto his lips.
“Bad thoughts,” she said, then whirled around and strutted away.
To be continued...
- Thomas M. Watt