Too Perfect Marriage – Part 8 – FINALE!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Calvin’s heart raced. “So Shea is-”

“Dead,” said Brody, before taking a peek at his Rolex. “Right about… now.” He laughed in his face, blood sputtering from his lips.

“No,” said Calvin. He shook his head, reached into Brody’s jacket, then yanked out the gun. “No!” He stood up and stormed into the club.

It was like swimming through Miley Cyrus’ earhole – Strobe lights bashed the swerving bodies with split-second flashes of blue and red. Bass blasted like bombs were exploding in the speakers. Sweaty bodies, sequin gowns, cocktails in the air.

Calvin’s legs felt like jelly. The sweet ingredients of love that had been swirling in his gut earlier had been poisoned with fear, worry, and knowledge -knowledge that Bridgette had no intention of killing him. Her target was Shea, the woman whose existence sparked Calvin’s future but burned Bridgette’s to ash.

He tucked the handgun into his waistband. As he strolled through he kept his eyes trained for a blonde woman in a red dress. Luckily for him, both women matched that description. Two women in red party dresses sat talking at the bar. One had her hand behind her back, and appeared to be holding something.

Too many dancers blocked Calvin’s line of sight – impossible to get a clear view of her face.

“Move!” he said.

He pushed a few drinkers out of the way, then cracked his knuckles as he motored through the crowd. Brody had said Shea was already dead, but Calvin refused to believe that. He wasn’t too late – he could feel it in his soul.

Calvin’s breath drew heavy as he closed in on the bar. He reached back into his waistband and swiped out the handgun. He hid the barrel up his white sleeve, and concealed the bulky handle with his fist.

Someone popped out at him – an adorable brunette.

“You’re cute,” she said.

“Watch out,” said Calvin.

The two blondes at the bar were facing the counter, backs to him. The one holding something extended her other arm and hugged the blonde beside her into her chest. She raised her other hand like she were going for the girl’s neck.

“Don’t be rude!” said the brunette.

Bridgette was going to slit Shea’s neck.

“Shea, no!” Shouted Calvin.

He jolted forward and took aim. The brunette tripped into his line of fire-

The two girls he had yelled at swiveled around, gazed at him, and blinked like owls. Calvin lowered his gun when he noticed the girl’s hand – she was holding a crumpled napkin, probably with some guys number on it.

Calvin shook his head and tore around. Where were they?

Every clock-hand tick meant Bridgette was closer to killing Shea.

Calvin’s eyes dotted around the packed house again. A few blondes, some red-dresses, but none of them Bridgette nor Shea. Calvin had to strike more than he needed to think. They wouldn’t have left the club, the plan was to kill Shea inside. But where?

Upstairs! Like finding keys in a front jean’s pocket, the obvious location struck Calvin in the forehead. Before he’d gone outside with Shea, he’d spotted Bridgette and Brody hovering over the top balcony. If there were any private place to kill someone in a club, it was the VIP room, and Brody had reserved it.

Calvin rushed through the dancers again.

“Move!” he said.

He plowed through. A guy hitting on a girl blocked his path.

Calvin shoved them to the ground, raced forward to the stairs, then sprinted up the flight. He breathlessly broke through Brody’s party guests’ circle. They quit drinking and mingling.

“Where is she?” Calvin said. “Where is she!”

“Who?”

“Shea!”

The guests dismissed Calvin by rolling their eyes and returning to their conversations.

Calvin flipped around. The VIP room in the back wasn’t entirely blocked – a curtain of jewelry beads hid it from view. He could make out moving bodies on the couch inside it.

Calvin rushed inside, smacking away the beads with his gun drawn.

A girl in a black skirt was riding some guy on the couch. She jumped off, and the guy held his hands up.

“Never told me dude! I swear!”

Calvin circled around, gun at his side. The freaked-out couple were panting and staring at him like he were a twisted serial killer. Calvin could care less about how he looked – he needed to save Shea, and too much time had already passed.

“She didn’t say she had a dude!” said the guy.

“I don’t,” said the girl.

Calvin paced with one hand scratching the back of his head, the other holding the gun.

“Oh, well.. It’s a private room, so uhh…”

“Use a goddamn stall then!” said Calvin. He stopped pacing. “Oh my God.”

Calvin bolted out the VIP room and flew down the stairs. He caught a pair of familiar eyes glaring at him during his descent.

They belonged to Big Fella, who seconds later fired a barrage of bullets into the ceiling. DJ killed the music, and panicked yells shook the dance floor as frightened patrons fled to the exit.

Calvin hauled ass over to the bathrooms, running against the tide of club-goers who were gushing out in the opposite direction. He stole a glance over his shoulder – Big Fella was chasing him, gaining ground every stride.

“Move!” Calvin said to people blocking his path.

Calvin pushed his way through, and reached the women’s restroom – door was locked.

“Stop!” He screamed, then kicked it. “Shea! Shea, are you alright!”

The door wouldn’t budge. Calvin loaded the gun, then fired a shot into the bolt. It broke off. Calvin stomped the door – something still jammed it shut from the inside.

Calvin rotated his body then charged, shoulder first. He made some headway, but only a crack. He could hear their voices – Shea and Bridgette were shouting in a heated argument.

“Help Calvin!” said Shea. “Hurry!”

“Trying to!” said Calvin. He backed away, then charged again – he banged it open enough to barely slide his arm through. Calvin hurried back one more time. He sprinted forward, turned to crash, then caught sight of Big Fella, holding his glock.

Big Fella fired but missed.

Calvin busted through and fell on the tiles of the women’s restroom.

“Let her go!” screamed Calvin.

The two blondes fought near the far wall, backs to Calvin. They were nowhere close to the mirror, and both had red dresses and blonde hair. The one closest to the wall was on her knees, struggling to escape the neck-brace of the women behind her. Calvin couldn’t tell who was who.

“It’s finished god-dammit! Get off her!”

The woman standing up raised a knife. She was on the verge of slitting the other girl’s throat. Somebody kicked the bathroom door open – Big Fella.

“Duck Shea!” said Calvin.

He pulled the trigger, and fired a bullet straight into the back of the woman with the knife.

“Oh… shit,” said Big Fella, stopping behind him.

The blonde women with the knife crumbled to the tile. She dropped the girl she’d been choking, and the knife fell from her loosened grip. It was Shea, and she lie on the floor, clutching her bleeding heart.

“No,” said Calvin. “God… no. There’s no way…”

Bridgette stood up, coughed to clear her throat, then fanned herself.

“Curious, didn’t you realize we wore the same dress and I didn’t say anything? You should have known we needed to get rid of both of you to be married. Now you’ll be in jail, and she’ll be a corpse.”

“How… no. This isn’t happening.” said Calvin.

“It is, sorry bae.” Bridgette rubbed his cheek, kissed him by the temple, then left the restroom, as did Big Fella.

Calvin walked forward like he were knee-deep in mud. “Get up,” he said. “Get up and be okay.”

The club music was off – looping police sirens took its place.

Calvin reached Shea. Blood poured out from her chest wound – the bullet went straight through her. Her eyes turned up as she gasped for air.

“Cal.. Calvin?” she said.

He slid down against the back wall, then tugged her onto his lap by her armpits.

“It doesn’t end like this,” he said. “No, no. It can’t.”

“Sorry…”

“Don’t be!” he said. “It’s my fault!”

She coughed, then smirked. Tears welled up in Calvin’s eyes. He clenched the knife handle, then leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “Don’t die.”

“Don’t… leave.”

Police barged in.

“Put the knife down!” One shouted. “Put the knife down!”

“Please,” she said.

Calvin sniffed. “I won’t.”

“…forever.”

“Get on the ground! Now!”

“Forever.” Calvin pressed his lips into hers, then plunged the blade into her neck.

Police fired away until both were riddled with holes. They died in each others arms, lips joined together.

• * *

Brody and Bridgette did a series of joint interviews following the tragedy that made national headlines. Security footage proved Calvin slugged Brody across the face then robbed the him of the gun he used to murder Brody’s wife.

Choked up with tears, Brody spoke about how blissful life could have been had he only won that fight, and interviewees and the American audience sympathized with his loss. Bridgette invited the public to share with her as she grieved, and many understood how disturbed she felt to discover her husband had kissed the women shortly before ruthlessly murdering her.

When Bridgette and Brody tied the knot, wedding gifts poured in from around the globe, and business boomed for Brody’s car dealership. They accumulated widespread fame from their against-the-odds love that blossomed into marriage, which proved to so many that not even a destructive mad-man could permanently destroy the lives of blessed good people for long.

The sudden influx of funds from Shea’s family fortune certainly helped Brody’s chain of dealerships thrive, but Brody always insisted he’d trade the tens of millions he’d inherited from Shea for even a day of her descension back to earth, even if it only meant holding her in his arms one more time.

When asked about the century old knife Calvin had used to carve into Shea, Brody informed viewers that the knife had belonged to her great, great, great, great grandfather, who had used it to peal a grapefruit he gave to a girl that became his future wife. They began the billion-dollar company together, and the knife had been passed down from generation to generation. Brody added, with tremendous difficulty, that Shea and he had always hoped to have children, and the knife would have gone to their firstborn. Because Calvin slaughtered her to soon, Shea died as the last surviving member of her incredible family.

*On a curious note, the shooter and his victim were buried in the same graveyard, despite specific orders and a never-ending outcry from the public. Shea and Calvin’s gravestones were placed side-by-side, in a remote area under some sycamore trees. The graveyard director position became a revolving door, and each new person hired for the job resigned within their first week, swearing “Forces beyond their control” prevented Calvin and Shea’s gravestones from ever being separated.

The End.

• Thomas M. Watt

Hope you’ve enjoyed the series! Check in tomorrow for the official cover release for Master, my novel about a former football star’s quest to save his family from the deranged psychiatrist who infiltrates his dreams.

Too Perfect Marriage – Part 7

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

“What’s your wife doin’?” said the driver.

“That’s not my…” Calvin shook his head. “I don’t know. She’ll be right back, though.”

“You better hope so, fair’s runnin.”

“She’ll be here in a sec, said she would.”

Calvin listened to “Bittersweet Symphony” on his Ipod again, and couldn’t stop replaying the kiss in his head. It’d been so long since the sweet ingredients of love had churned in his gut and been devoured by his heart. Marrying Bridgette was a blemish he’d been trying to paint around, but now that he was certain she was cheating and actively looking to kill him, brushing on a fresh canvas didn’t seem like such a condemn-able idea.

“Give her a call, buddy,” said the driver.

Calvin smeared his forehead. “Don’t know her phone number, believe it or not.”

“Ah, I see. Damn shame, thought you two looked good together. Good times end so fast.”

“You misunderstood. We’re gonna be together for the long run. Trust me.”

The driver adjusted his rear view mirror to catch a glance of Calvin, then sighed and turned away.

Calvin scoffed and shook his head. He tapped his fingers on his knee, then ripped the earbuds out and stuffed the Ipod back into his pocket. He checked the time – five minutes since she’d left. He ran a hand threw his hair, then fluttered his lips with an exhale and crossed his arms.

“Go in there and get her. Doin’ nothing for nobody, just waitin’ here,” said the driver.

“Be patient.”

“Huh?”

Calvin groaned, then whipped out a wad of bills from his pocket. He swatted them in the driver’s hand. “Here,” he said, then stepped out.

He paced toward the club with his head on a swivel. Shea said she’d be right back, but the fact that she hadn’t returned wasn’t a huge call for alarm – chances were, she had some choice words before parting ways with Brody and leaving his dirty dick for good.

Still, Calvin felt uneasy – he was convinced Bridgette and Brody were conspiring to kill him. He could afford to look for Shea, as long as he remained surrounded by others – narcissists murdered, but weren’t the type to ruin their reputations and risk prison time.

Calvin passed by people exiting the club, then made his way through the smokers near the back entrance. He tore the door open and came face to face with Brody.

“H-h-hey, Calvin! I was just looking for you.”

Calvin dropped back a step.

Brody proceeded forward, then swung his arm around Calvin and tugged him away from the club and toward an empty alleyway. “Your wife tells me you’re quite the guitar player-”

“Eat a dick,” said Calvin, throwing Brody’s arm from his shoulders. He turned around. Brody jumped in front of him.

“Easy, guy! … what’s with the constant hard-on for me?”

“Returning yours from my wife.”

The smokers outside raised their eyebrows and moved a little closer.

“What? Nooo,” said Brody. “What kind of monster you think-”

“Kind of monster who kills. I know about the gun.”

“What gun?” said Brody, with a chuckle. “Oh, you mean this?” He reached inside the flap of his jacket, withdrew a handgun, then casually pointed it at Calvin. “I like guns, so what.”

“Put that shit away,” Calvin said.

“Easy guy! you really think I would shoot you?”

“Thought Bridgette might cheat with a douche-bag, was right about that.”

Brody smiled. The smokers watched eagerly.

“This attitude of yours is very disheartening,” said Brody.

“I’m leaving with Shea.”

Brody quit smiling. “What?”

“That’s right. You can have Bridgette, she’s all yours. I want Shea.”

Brody scratched his temple and lowered an eyebrow. “But… why?”

“Because when you acted like a pompous ass in the limo she told me to ignore you, and that’s goddamn refreshing after being told ‘stop being an idiot’ for so fucking long. Because when I got my ass kicked by some clown inside she cared more about me being alright than how stupid she looked being the wife of a loser. Because when I say it’s a perfect moment, she makes it better.”

“But Bridgette’s a ten, and they’re both blonde, so…”

Calvin scoffed. “You’re a joke. Get out of my way,” he said, trying to move past.

Brody grabbed him by the arm, then yanked him close and jammed the gun barrel into his abdomen.

Calvin glared at him. “I’m not as funny as you think,” said Brody.

“Move the gun.”

“I’ll start with the trigger.”

Calvin forced his words through gritted teeth. “What kind of idiot kills in public? Look around, we’re surrounded. They’ve got cameras recording this.”

Brody didn’t flinch.

“Why kill me?” Said Calvin. “Take Bridgette, she’s all yours. Let me and Shea walk.”

“Nobody’s trying to kill you,” said Brody.

“Ditch the gun,” said Calvin.

“Problem’s Shea.”

“You don’t give a shit, you don’t even love her.”

“Not that simple.”

“We’ll see, guy,” said Calvin. He shoved Brody then hurried toward the backdoor.

“H-h-hey, buddy!” yelled Brody. “Think you’ve had a few too many!”

Calvin reached for the door, ripped it open, then lost his feet out from under him. Brody had tackled his lower half. The door fell closed, and Calvin found himself wrestling on the pavement.

“You’re not getting back at that guy in there!” said Brody. “Already caused a scene, now you’re embarrassing both of us!”

The onlookers didn’t intervene. Calvin struggled to peel himself free from Brody, who wouldn’t stop yelling.

“I won’t let you fight him! I can’t, you’re not in your right mind!”

Calvin managed to climb on top of Brody, then swallowed up Brody’s face with his palm. “Shut the fuck up!”

“You’re drunk!” said Brody. “Get off me, you’re drunk!”

Calvin reared back then slugged Brody across the face. Blood fired out from his mouth.

“Money don’t buy fists,” Calvin said, then tried to push himself up.

Brody grabbed Calvin’s white button down, then ripped him close and hissed into his ear.

“I’m not the breadwinner bitch.”

“What?”

“Shea’s loaded. Family inheritance.”

Calvin shook his head. “You’re talking out your ass-”

“Nothing to gain by killing you.”

Calvin’s heart raced. “So Shea is-”

“Dead,” said Brody, before taking a peek at his rolex. “Right about… now.” He laughed in his face, blood sputtering from his lips.

“No,” said Calvin. He shook his head, reached into Brody’s jacket, then yanked out the gun. “No!” He stood up and stormed into the club.

To be continued…

• Thomas M. Watt

CLICK HERE FOR PART 8 – FINALE!

“

Too Perfect Marriage – Part 3

Part 1

Part 2

Brody’s eyes fidgeted between her and Calvin. “…sure.”

He poured Shea a drink, then passed it along. The party guests resumed their former chatter, and the remainder of the ride went smooth, though there were a few subtle bumps. Calvin kept silent.

The ride pulled up to the popular night spot and dropped them off. The party guests hurried out and trotted to the back of the line. Once they settled in, Calvin grabbed Bridgette by the wrist and tugged her close.

“You brought a gun?”

“Huh?”

“I saw it. In your purse.”

“Are you being serious?”

Calvin’s mouth stayed shut.

“You’re starting to piss me off.” Bridgette jerked her arm away, then smiled brightly and returned to her circle of friends.

“Shit,” said Shea, squeezing Calvin’s shoulder.

He watched as she scraped her heel along the ground. It was the first time he noticed she had blonde hair and wore a red party dress, almost identical to his wife’s.

“I stepped in it. I stepped in shit,” Shea said.

Calvin stepped out of her grasp and grabbed his wife again. He swiveled her around, grabbed both sides of her face then kissed her on the lips.

“What do you want?” she said.

He brought his lips right into her ear, then whispered. “You have a gun. In your purse. I want to know why.”

“Get off me!” She shoved him back a few steps. Everybody in the circle went quiet. “See for yourself, moron!” She flung the purse at him.

It hit Calvin in the abdomen. Out spilled her make-up, tampons, and a few pens. No gun.

“Whoa! Keep it in the bedroom, you two!” said Brody. He ran his hand threw his grey hair and chuckled.

Calvin shook his head, then lowered to one knee and picked up his wife’s belongings. Shea bent over and picked up a few of the items with him, then dumped them in the bag.

Calvin stood, then smacked Bridgette’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “Here.”

She folded her arms. “You don’t trust me.”

“Take your purse.”

She rolled her eyes, then returned to her circle.

“You okay?” Shea said to Calvin.

He nodded.

“Want me to hold that?” said Shea.

Calvin’s eyes were glued to his wife. She wasn’t just enjoying herself – she was glowing.

Shea made robot noises as she peeled his digits off the handle, one by one. She swung the purse over her shoulder, then stopped giggling.  “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Yeah, I’m great.”

“Good, because that’s totally what I asked.”

A few people exited the night club, and the line moved forward.

“Brody works a lot, and I’m really busy with the kids,” said Shea. She stuck her palm to her eye. “Shit, I mean the kids I teach. I want kids, but Brody doesn’t. He used to, well before he married me-”

“My wife is going to kill me.”

Shea gasped. “What?”

Calvin studied Brody.

“I’m sure you’re just imagining it. I don’t know, you seem really creative. I think it’s cool how you play the guitar.”

Calvin faced her.

“Brody told me. They’ve been on the phone non-stop since Bridgette’s dad died.”

The group took another step forward. They were nearing the entrance.

“Did she even tell you? Shit, I shouldn’t have said that. Bridgette’s my good friend, and I don’t like getting into other people’s business. But that’s the only reason they look close.” She bit her lips, then pat Calvin’s shoulder blade. “I’m sorry. It’s not my place, I’m just a stranger to you… but if Bridgette’s scared you won’t be there for her when she needs you most, you kind of need to show her that she’s wrong… you know?”

The group advanced to the front of the line. “Wait here,” said the bouncer.

Shea sighed. “Shit, I can’t believe she didn’t tell you. That’s terrible. Not just for you, she must have trust issues. Just be patient and talk to her… I know I just met you, but you seem so sweet. Make her aware that you want to know all about the loss of her dad. That’s a really big deal… for anybody. I’m sure it’s not even you, she just feels vulnerable… There’s only two real men in a girls life, for God’s sake!”

Calvin shut his eyes.

Shea smiled kindly. “I know how it looks. Trust me, you think it’s been easy waiting for my husband to get off the phone with her? Bridgette’s an honorable person and would never do that to either of us, but I’m human, so yeah, I worry. I’ve been cheated on before – it destroyed me… for years.”

The group entered the nightclub, but the bouncer pulled the rope back before Calvin and Shea could pass through.

“Two?” said the bouncer.

“Oh, um, yeah I guess.” Shea scratched the back of her head. She frowned and punched Calvin in the shoulder. “It’s great to be a thinker, but you really should lighten up a little… I know Brody seems like a jerk, but he’s a good guy deep down… Trust me, he would never, ever cheat on me.” She smiled at Calvin. “So stop worrying about him and your wife already!”

The bouncer cleared the rope. The pair strode up the steps together and entered through the door. Music bumped, strobe lights flashed. Shea grabbed Calvin’s jacket flap. His gaze remained somewhere beyond her.

“Hey! Nothing is wrong! They’re friends! We’re friends! Relax and have fun!”

She hopped until she had his attention, then tossed her hair back and crossed her arms. “God, you really need to let things go!”

“I had breakfast with Bridgette’s dad this morning.”

Shea quit smiling. Calvin walked around her and pushed through the dancers.

To be continued…

• Thomas M. Watt

CLICK HERE FOR PART 4!

Too Perfect Marriage – Part 2

If you missed Part 1, click here!

A long black limo pulled up and parked by the curb. The driver walked around the vehicle and opened the door for them.

When Bridgette crouched down to enter, Calvin noticed a handgun tucked away in her purse. He stopped where he stood.

“All aboard the S.S. Jackhammer!” said Brody.

Cheers and laughter followed, along with a few clanks of bottles and glasses.

“Hey, can I talk to you about something?” Calvin said to Bridgette, his wife.

“Uh-oh, he’s getting cold feet, you were right about this guy!” said Brody.

“You’re not even inside, and you already want to argue?” said Bridgette.

The laughter and chatter died down.

“It’s just…” said Calvin. “When did you get… Are we going someplace dangerous?”

For a moment the limo went quiet. Then Brody let out an explosive chuckle, yanked Calvin inside by his tie, and everybody returned to their previous festive mood.

“Grab a drink guy, lighten up. It’s Friday!”

Bridgette laughed. She took the seat right beside Brody. Calvin moved around at a hunch until he squeezed in between two women.

“Name’s Calvin by the way.”

“What’s that?” said Brody.

“My name is Calvin. We haven’t met before. I’m a firefighter.” He scratched under his jaw. “You know, my name isn’t guy.”

Brody raised an eyebrow.

“Ignore him. He’s a party-pooper.” Said Bridgette.

“No, no,” said Brody. “I’m a stand-up guy myself. My name is Brody, and it’s a pleasure to meet you, Calvin. Your wife has nothing but wonderful things to say about you.”

“Oh, that’s a surprise,” he said with a laugh. Everybody chuckled along with him.

While the party guests indulged in the jovial mood, Calvin sat with his knees pressed together. He reached into his pocket for his phone, and started to text Bridgette.

When did you buy a gun?

“Baby, hold this for me!” Bridgette tossed her phone through the air.

Calvin made a jerky move to catch it. He wanted to ask her out loud, but her eyes darted to every spot he wasn’t.

Calvin shook his head, then slipped Bridgette’s phone into his other pocket. When he did, he inadvertently elbow-jabbed the breast beside him. Calvin instantly crossed his arms close to his chest, then sighed, shut his eyes, and let his head droop backward.

“I’m here, in my mold,” he muttered to himself.

“But I’m a million different people, from one day to the next.”

Calvin’s eyes shot open. The woman who he’d just bumped into had sung the rest of the verse.

“Bittersweet symphony?” said Calvin.

“I know, don’t you hate that song? Slaves to money then we die? Sorry, but money equals happiness.”

Calvin raised his eyebrows and grinned politely.

“That was a joke… kind of a bad one. Not sure where the laugh goes. The verve? Please. I love that song.” She mumble-sang the melody and bobbed her head.

Nothing about her screamed super-model. Especially not the freckles spotting both her dimpled cheeks. But she was… simple. And simple was better than ideal. A lot better.

“Another bottle,” Shea!” said Brody.

The woman beside Calvin nodded, then reached into a cooler and took out some Pinot Noir.

“Throw it,” said Brody.

“Well I don’t want to break-”

“Throw it, throw it, throw it!” began Brody, slapping his hands to his thighs. The rest of the party followed his lead, while Calvin had his eyes on Shea. She blinked rapidly, shook her head, then chucked it like it were a dead rat over to Brody. He and Bridgette tried to grab it at the same time, and in their haste they knocked the bottle straight to the floor, where it shattered. Wine spilled over Brody’s slacks and Bridgette’s ankles. The cheer halted.

“Dammit Shea,” said Brody. He fanned out his wet hands.

“Shit, I knew I shouldn’t have thrown it. I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, don’t you worry doll. Brody bought more than enough,” said Bridgette. She flashed a picture-perfect smile.

Calvin twisted his lips, then pressed out the creases in his slacks.

“I know, I’m clumsy. Here, I’ll pass you another,” said Shea.

She retrieved a new bottle from the cooler. Brody crouched low then made ‘chuga-chuga’ sound effects as if he were a train, and ‘chugged’ over to her.

“Hey, here’s an idea? Why don’t you just hand it to me?” He chuckled loud, then snagged the bottle from Shea. “You’re the best,” he said, then returned back to his seat beside Bridgette. He popped open the bottle, then poured those around him a glass. He met eyes with Calvin, who sat with his arms crossed.

“Would you like a glass?”

Calvin scratched under his jaw. “This is your wife, right?”

Brody glanced at her, then tugged his lip corners up with his cheeks. “How truly awful of me… I’ve been so excited to have fun tonight, formal introductions must have slipped my mind. Calvin, you’re sitting next to my wife, Shea.”

Calvin nodded with his tongue pushed into his teeth.

“Hi,” said Shea. She held out her hand, but Calvin’s eyes were trained on Brody.

“I’m not used to these events, so help me understand… why am I sitting next to your wife, while you’re sitting by mine?”

Bridgette glared at Calvin. Brody raised his eyebrows. The other party guests quietly sipped their drinks.

Brody opened his mouth, but Bridgette grabbed hold of his wrist.

“You don’t have to answer that,” she said. “Calvin… babe? This an adult event. Try to act like one.”

“It’s ok, B-ridge,” said Brody, returning Bridgette’s hand to her lap. “Now Calvin, it’s my fault for not giving you the four-one-one, but typically at events like this, you actually don’t use any seating charts. Had I known you would have felt more comfortable, I would have been happy to draw one up for you.”

Many of the party guests bit their lips. A few chuckles escaped.

“B-ridge?” said Calvin. “What’s that, your pet name for my wife?”

Bridgette’s palm smacked against her forehead. Brody wore a tight-lipped smile.

“Why don’t you tone it down a notch, huh guy? You didn’t pay for this limo. You don’t know anybody here. You wouldn’t even be here if weren’t for B-ridge. So take a drink, and enjoy the good vibes.”

Calvin mirrored Brody’s tight-lipped grin. “Sounds radical.”

Shea rubbed Calvin’s kneecap, then whispered in his ear. “Just ignore him.”

Calvin turned and they met eyes.

Shea darted her hand back, shook her head, then scratched behind her ear. She turned to Brody and smiled. “I’d like a drink!”

Brody’s eyes fidgeted between her and Calvin. “…sure.”

To be continued…

• Thomas M. Watt

CLICK HERE FOR PART 3!

Donald and Thurma – Part 4 – Finale

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

“I think I can,” he said to himself, chugging along the sidewalk tracks. “I think I can.”

Donald walked with both fists clenched. Amanda and Thurma strolled a short ways ahead, Thurma with her head down.

He wasn’t angry, he was determined – and approaching a girl who was more than likely to reject him was no easy task for Donald.

“Hey,” he called out.

The two girls turned around. Amanda smirked, and crossed her arms. Thurma stilted like a wooden statue.

“Let me guess,” said Amanda. “You found something and were wondering if it belongs to Thurma. Is that your excuse for talking to her? Because that’s not exactly original.”

“No,” said Donald. “I want to talk to her as myself.”

“Why?” said Amanda, narrowing her eyes. “Been acting like somebody else?”

Donald stared straight at Thurma. “Have you?”

Silence.

“Erm, I’ll leave you two alone,” said Amanda, before patting her friend on the shoulder and walking on ahead.

“What are you talking about?” Thurma said to him.

“This shit.” Donald pointed back to the bar. “You want some dipshit frat-boy, let me know and I’ll leave right now.”

“I don’t want that.”

“I’m a dork. My name’s Donald by the way.”

“Mine’s Thurma.”

“You’re one too.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” said Thurma. She twisted her lip, then sighed and lowered her gaze to his feet. “But maybe I’m not the bitch who you met, either.”

“Good.”

She looked back up. “Maybe I am just a basic bitch. Maybe if you knew the real me, you wouldn’t have come running to talk to me.”

“I like basic bitches. I’m a basic dude.”

Thurma chuckled, then hid her teeth behind her hand. “So what do you want?”

“Huh?”

“What are you after?” She said, then set her hands on her hips. “Is it a number, to brag to your friend about? Because if you really think you’re going to sleep with me tonight-”

“I came to talk with you. That’s all.”

“Why?”

“Because when I look at you I see a part of me, the part that I like.”

“What part’s that?”

Donald scratched the back of his head, then looked away. “I like good morning texts. I like snuggling. I like having to tell a girl she doesn’t have to worry about what’s-her-name, no matter how paranoid she’s being, or clingy she becomes.”

“I’m not following you.”

Donald shook his head, then returned his gaze to Thurma. He creased his brow when he noticed the mark on her chin, then leaned forward to get a better look at it.

“Stop!” she said, then covered the mark with her hand. “That’s rude.”

Donald grabbed her wrist and forced it away, then set his thumb on her chin. “I like the scar you try to hind behind your makeup.”

Thurma’s exhale came heavy. “Oh…”

“The stuff that puts other guys off, that’s the stuff that I like. You could say that’s from low-confidence, but I don’t think it is. I think it’s a preference.”

“Ok.”

“There’s no line I can say to make you want me, there’s no maneuver I can use that will get you to like me back.”

Thurma’s eyes fidgeted in Donald’s.

“I’m just saying that I’d like to get to know you. If that friend zones me, then fine-”

“You said it.”

“What?”

“About fifteen seconds ago. You said the line that won me.”

“Huh?”

“Kiss me dork.”

Donald moved in with a smirk, then gave Thurma a light peck on the cheek.

Thurma shook her head, then scolded him with a finger wag. “I swear to God, if that’s what you think it means to kiss a girl don’t ever-”

Donald slid his hand through her hair, raking her brunnette locks up in his fingers until he had his hand wrapped around the back of her head. He advanced until her forearm fell flat against his chest, then dug his lips into hers. Thurma’s eyes dropped closed and the phone she had been holding unraveled from her fingers and plummeted until it cracked against the sidewalk. She immediately pressed her newly-freed hand against the side of his face.

An obnoxious series of honks was followed by a loud holler:

“Fuck her already, bro!” Yelled Freddy.

Donald finally took a step back.

“Number,” said Thurma.

“I think your phone broke.”

“Ok.”

Donald smiled, then wrote his down on a wrinkled napkin he’d stored in his pocket. “Nice meeting you,” he said, then turned around and headed towards Freddy’s escalade. Once he took his seat Freddy sped away.

“You better get a tit-pit,” said Freddy.

Donald grinned and looked at him.

“What?” said Freddy.

“I’m the man,” said Donald.

“You’re a man, not sure if you’re the man.”

“No,” said Donald, before turning the bass up on Freddy’s sound system. “I’m the man.”

The End!

Hope you enjoyed.

• Thomas M. Watt

Donald and Thurma – Part 1

Donald sat in the passenger seat of Freddy’s Escalade, still glaring at the same text:

I just think you and I are better off as friends.

He shook his head, then stared out the window.

“I’m telling you bro,” said Freddy. “You took too long to make your move. That’s where you messed up.”

“It shouldn’t be like that,” said Donald.

“Well it is like that! Girls like dudes who are aggressive. Stop pussy-footing around, I want you to be a man tonight.”

Donald scoffed.

“C’mon dude,” said Freddy. “This bar’s going to have a ton of hot chicks tonight. You’re gonna get yours, and you’re going to feel a lot better.”

“I could give two shits about getting laid,” said Donald.

“And that’s your problem.”

“Why?”

“She stuck you in the friend zone, didn’t she?”

“So?”

Freddy turned to Donald and raised his eyebrows. “What is the one thing that separates friends from lovers?”

Donald gazed at the text again, then sighed.

“You can’t be afraid to hurt their feelings. There’s a reason girls always fall for assholes.”

Donald stared out the passenger window for a bit.

“You hearin’ me bro?” said Freddy.

Donald stuffed his phone in his pocket. “Ok. Tonight we do it your way.”

• * *

Thurma and her friend Amanda walked to the bar together. It was only a few blocks from their apartment.

“I’m telling you!” said Amanda. “Greg walked all over you because you let him. You have to stop being so nice to these assholes.”

“I never said he was an asshole,” said Thurma.

“All guys are assholes.”

Thurma laughed.

Amanda playfully smacked her arm. “You think I’m joking, but I’m not. At least, that’s the way you have to approach the game.”

“What game?”

“Love! It’s a game, and if you haven’t figured that out by now than I’m afraid even I can’t help you.”

“Why can’t I just be myself and find someone who likes me for who I am?”

“Because that doesn’t exist. Guys like bitches and hoes. Which one are you?”

Thurma cracked a chuckle. “Neither, jeeze!”

“Well I’m a bitch.

“Not to me,” said Thurma.

“To guys I am. And you know what?”

“What?” said Thurma.

Amanda’s phone beeped. She held it out for Thurma to see, then smiled at her. “Oh, what’s this? Another ‘I’m sorry’ text? God, I swear I must have ignored a hundred of these already.”

“That’s mean.”

“All is fair in love and war Thurma.”

“So what are you telling me? I should just start acting like a bitch to every guy I talk to?”

“If you want them to respect you, than yeah.”

Thurma shook her head.

“One night. Just try it out! See how it feels.”

They reached the bar, and Thurma took hold of the entry door when Amanda grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her back.

“What?” said Thurma.

“I want you to promise me. One night.”

“Be a bitch?” said Thurma.

Amanda grinned. “Demand respect.”

“By being a bitch?”

Amanda looked off to the side, then shrugged.

Thurma rolled her eyes. “Alright. For one night.”

“That’s the spirit!”

She turned around and reached for the door handle again, but this time she met hands with Donald, who grabbed it at the exact same time.

“Oh,” said Donald. “Sorry.”

Thurma laughed. “It’s okay.”

“HEY! Let’s move it along here!” said Freddy, who came up quick behind Donald.

“Ya, please do,” said Amanda, before pulling Thurma away from them.

Donald entered the bar with Freddy, and shortly after Thurma and Amanda followed behind.

To be continued…

• Thomas M. Watt

Before Comfort’s Bliss

Thighs sliding, fingers cramped, sweaty pores, moving hands.

Rocking swiftly, moving gently, moaning sounds, hefty taking.

Hands caress, muscles push, breaths grow heavy, lamps are shook.

Moving swiftly side to side until a turn brings her to rise.

Rising up from up to down, pushing forth, pulling out.

Turning over, once again, breaths do mate, fingers blend.

Kissing, touching, quaking lots, moving down from neck to next spot.

Lips do squish, tongues they kiss, elbows bend , her pelvis kicks.

Eyes they meet from eye to eye at first they see but soon they fly.

Enter back into her body, watch her glisten, feel her naughty.

Twisting over to one side, slides to hip, leg twined is fine.

Hair grows wild in his hand, pulling hard, faster again.

Moving closer, dripping sweat, to her forehead, feel her breast.

Sheets all rustle, bed does break, blankets fall and moans do rage.

Raising volume hear the sounds from one man’s push till one girl’s found.

Voices quiet, thoughts they bleed, grips of holding pressing deep.

Heads come closer, heat it rises, slanted mattress provides for driving.

Springs they rattle, muscles ache, one limb stiffens, one girl shakes.

Hurrying on, fast again, lips they meet, breaths quicken.

All at once the sounds explode as does the load as does the show.

The two embrace for one small kiss before a rest and comfort’s bliss.

– Thomas M. Watt

A Handshake Precedes an Indecent Request – Part 2

“Alright, I’ll tell you everything,” said Joe. “I’ll explain why I met you tonight and expect to leave with your wife, for good. I just need to know one thing.”

“What?” said Mr. Huerto.

“You won’t lay a hand on Marie. You won’t hurt her.”

Mr. Huerto laughed. “Joe, I’m not the type to hit a woman.”

“I know,” Joe gulped. “But after you hear my story, I’m afraid that all could change.”

Something loud fell and crashed in the other room. Marie sobbed louder.

“I don’t hit women,” said Mr. Huerto. “Now on with the story.”

Joe nodded. He had a breath, then began.

“When Marie and I were sixteen, we were already on our third year of dating, and felt normal teenage rebellion was getting boring. We needed thrill, excitement. We needed to do something new, something kids our age wouldn’t even dare. We needed more adrenaline-”

“Why?'” said Mr. Huerto.

Joe smirked as he returned his glance to Mr. Huerto. “We liked to fuck on it.”

Mr. Huerto shook his head and stuffed a cracker into his mouth. “Just… just go on!”

“Alright.” Joe nodded. “So me and Marie, we used to devise ways to get ourselves as close to danger as possible, without ever getting caught. It started out with stupid things, like breaking into random cars for a quickie. As time wore on, we got all the more adventurous. Started getting stupid with it. Broke into houses, backyards. Soon breaking in alone wasn’t enough.”

Mr. Huerto swung his glass of water to his lips then choked slightly on his drink. He tried to muffle his cough, and when he spoke again it was with a broken voice.

“You alright, sir?” said Joe.

“I didn’t exactly plan on hearing all about my wife’s sexcapades with some stranger tonight.”

Joe laughed. “That’s alright, it gets better.”

Mr. Huerto darted his glance back to Joe. Joe went on.

“So the whole breaking in thing, we got tired of it. It seemed juvenile, you know? So we decided to do something different. We decided to start getting strangers involved.”‘

Mr. Huerto raised an eyebrow.

Joe laughed. “Not like you think. It was a game. A sick, weird little game-”

“What was the game?”

Joe buttoned his lips initially. “Marie would go on dates with other guys. I would wait for her-”

“WHERE?” Screamed Mr. Huerto, standing up.

Joe shook his hands and backed away. “In the bathroom!”

“And then?”

“And then we would fuck, while her date was waiting for her!”  Joe scurried away.

Mr. Huerto charged on. “You mean to tell me the first date I shared with my wife, the night you were caught raping her in the ladies bathroom, the reason you were locked up for the last ten years… WAS BECAUSE MY WIFE IS A SEX-FREAK!”

Joe backed into wall. “Not a freak, Mr. Huerto. Exhibitionist is-”

“YOU WENT TO PRISON FOR TEN YEARS! HOW COULD THIS NOT COME OUT IN COURT?”

Joe fell into a corner. He looked down at the carpeting. “You can thank Marie for that one.”

“Why?” said Mr. Huerto.

Joe gulped. “She said if I could wait ten years, she knew a guy that would give us sixteen million dollars.”

“What? Who! I’ve got thirty-two million but I swear on my life I’m not about to give any… wait.”

Just then, Marie sprinted through the room and towards the front door.

“MARIE!” Shouted Mr. Huerto.

PART 3, COMING SOON!

Thomas M. Watt

A Handshake Precedes an Indecent Request – Part 1

They sat across the table from one another, each carving up his own chicken breast. Not a word had been spoken since Marie last exited the room in tears.

“Let me get this straight,” Mr. Huerto finally said. “You come to my house, shake my hand one time, and now you’re expecting to leave with my wife?”

“Not just leave,” said Joe. “I want to be with her.”

Mr. Huerto shook his head. He wiped the sauce from his lips with his white napkin. “You think I’m some kind of joke? You think you can just waltz in here, have yourself a fine meal, then spend the night fucking my wife?”

“Mr. Huerto, you know that’s not what I came for! I’m in love with her. We’re in love together.”

“You think she loves you?”

“I know it.”

Mr. Huerto scoffed. “You’re really something, you know. Haven’t been laid in a while, is that it?”

“No!” Joe shouted.

Marie could be heard weeping in the other room.

“What did you do, anyway?”

Joe didn’t answer.

“C’mon, if you really think I’m gonna hand over my wife to you, you better give me some answers.”

Joe had a drink of water. “I’m done wasting my time here.” He got up to leave.

“Joe, sit down,” said Mr. Huerto. “I’ll let you have her without a fight, but only if I approve.”

“I don’t need your approval,” said Joe.

“But Marie sure does, unless you want her life to be filled with doubt. She’s come to love me, you know. Despite what you may think.”

After a lengthy exhale, Joe began his story.

PART 2, COMING SOON!

– Thomas M. Watt

Various thoughts that fit Together in my Untamed Mind

Pretty girl, sitting there, gazing wide, looking fair.

I know you see it, I do too, the art from God, the voice of truth.

The problem is, you know it’s true, we’ve come from heaven with work to do.

I know my calling, know it fine, called to live my life divine.

By God who judges, He who speaks, the One who whispers my heart to sleep.

I know you want it, want it bad, knowledge of this so makes me sad.

For it’s not quite me of which you want, nor my heart, nor my cock.

But you want the dwelling bruise, the heart that aches, the lasting blues.

I’ll say it simply for some ears – the truth hurts me, the truth you fear.

For when she longs and so “Wants you,” all she wants is the pursuit.

Give her mystery, give her myth, a taste of wrong, a hint of bliss.

Her one true goal is to have you chained, but once she does, you’ve lost the game.

– Thomas M. Watt