Thursday, March 12, 2015

Beware the Ides of March

It was dark in the alley, the perfect cover to watch for him. The club across the street was alive with music, lights and people. Maybe she should go in… no,  he will come out. She just had to wait.

It was damp and cold after the evening rains, but, nothing she couldn’t withstand. There had been too much planning done already to waste the moment. It had to be done tonight. Suffering a bit of cold would be worth it in the end.

Loud music flooded the street when the club’s doors were flung open. There he was, that was him. Walking out alone, no tramp hanging off of him like so many others who had left before him.

He walked into the parking lot next to the club, not paying any attention to the rest of the world around him. 

When he paused to light a cigarette and she grinned. It was him, he was perfect. She walked over to the lot and smiled at him.

He smiled back. “Good evening.”

She didn’t reply, mustn’t seem so anxious. She walked over to her car then let go of a frustrated sigh looking at her rear tire. “Damn it, not now…”

Setting her purse on the roof before she moved to the back of the car and opened the trunk.  She leaned inside and pulled out the jack and walked around to the flat tire.

He glanced over as he flicked the cigarette to the ground. The perfect one walked over and grinned. “Can I give you a hand? No sense in a beautiful woman getting all greasy.”

She laughed and smiled back. “Thanks, I really appreciate it. I’m a serious girl with this stuff.”

He grinned and nodded as he slid the jack under the edge of the car. “I’ll say, you forgot a part. Do you mind if I look in your trunk for the tire iron?”

“No, go ahead. See I told you I have no idea what I’m doing.”  She grinned, shifting to accentuate her ample form for him.
He smiled and walked around to the trunk. He pulled his eyes from hers and looked in. The iron was way in the back. He had to bend half into the trunk to reach it.

She watched and waited until both his hands were inside the trunk and he was leaning way inside. Quickly, she moved to him sinking a needle into the back of his neck. Her thumb pushed the plunger as she looked around, to make sure there were no other eyes on them.

In a few seconds, he slumped, collapsing half into the trunk. She grinned as she tossed the needle inside then hefted the rest of him. 

For just a moment, she paused and looked down at her victim. The rest of the night would be spent in blood as she has done since the betrayal. None leave her now. He will be hers tonight and in the morning she will bury him near the others. “Beware the Ides of March.”


D. Paul Angel said...

Beware indeed! He really should have listened to that old Gypsy fortune teller...

Jon Jefferson said...

Moral of the story, Don't help strangers change their tires.