Cheating Hearts (Story #2 – 30 Stories in 30 Days)

Cheating Hearts

By Cherie Ann Turpin

“Uhm, hon, why do I smell blood in the back seat of my car?”

“Huh?”

“Uhm, don’ t ‘huh’ me like you don’t know.  Wake up.  Why do I smell blood all over the back of my car?”

“Who is she? I know it was a woman, and I know the difference between male and female hormones when I smell it, so don’t try to play that over on me. She smells young, like less than 50 years young.  Who is she?” Precious-Hearts-Romances-My-Cheating-Heart

“S-s-s-she’s Rob’s girl, Caroline.  They were making out in the back.  He must have nipped her in the neck.”

“Rob??? Since when did he slow down?”

“She’s a prodigy he turned a few years back–she just got back from Atlanta.”

“Really.”

“Yes.  really.”

“And you just, well, sat in the front and watched them kiss, right? They did more than just kiss, David.”

“I was hunting, dear.  I didn’t wait around to see if they were buck-naked.  Sorry about the smell–I’ll go to the all-night car wash and get the interior cleaned.”

“You must think I was turned yesterday.  You are lying.”

“Stop it.”

“Stop what, David? Stop trusting you? Stop not trusting you? Stop trying to understand why you keep playing me like a tool? Stop wondering why you think you can sleep in that coffin I paid for and lie to my face?  Stop wondering why I don’t turn you to dust myself and just start over with a new consort?”

“What’s with the silver knife, Carla?  I didn’t cheat on you.  I told you, it’s Rob’s woman, not mine.  We were cruising around looking for dinner.  They got high on some raver who was on E, then they got horny.  That’s it.  Nothing happened.”

“What do you mean nothing happened? You let Rob fuck some ratchety bitch in MY car? Sure you didn’t join in? Why didn’t you get high?”

“I didn’t get high because I didn’t join in the feeding.  I saw a guy creeping around the woods–”

“You saw a guy in the woods. And what did he look like? Was he high, drunk?”

“He won’t be missed. I think he was looking to rob somebody.  He had a gun.”

“What kind of gun?”

“A stun-gun.”

“Who uses a stun-gun to rob people?”

“People who don’t like bullets, I guess. He tried to use it on me.  You should have seen his face, Carla–”

“Look, I’m not playing with you.  It’s almost time for me to get to my job, and the bar won’t open by itself.  And I don’t smell Rob ANYWHERE on the leather or carpet in the backseat–or the front, for that matter.  So, unless you want to see me use this knife on that limp, undead lump of flesh you call a dick, I suggest you come clean NOW, and just tell me. WHO THE FUCK IS SHE, DAVID?”

“My wife.”

“What you mean your wife?  I’m your wife!”

“My dead wife, as in Sharon.”

“She’s not dead.”

“Obviously.”

“Who turned her?  When did this happen? And how?”

“You did.”

WHAT?”

“You aren’t as old as you claim to be, are you Carla? Youngsters do tend to make those kind of mistakes.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You turned us both that night, you conniving little minx.  She didn’t die.”

“Why are you smiling like that, David?”

“Like what?”

“Like you are right now? It wasn’t like that.”

“Who’s the liar now?”

“What does she want?”

“She already has what she wants, Carla.  You’re just now noticing it because you’ve been too busy fucking and sucking Hector the Bouncer to care about where I plop my sexy ass.  What you should be asking right now is what do I want, as in how does sweet little killer Carla find a way to make it through the next twenty-four hours without Sharon the wronged wife removing her pretty head from her shoulders?”

“What makes you think I can’t take her down myself?”

“You’d kill your own prodigy?”

“Sounds as though I have no choice but to do just that.”

“You have a knife pointed at my heart.  You have many choices.  Make a move.”

“I don’t want to kill you.”

“But you want to kill her.”

“I want to live.  I want to know how Sharon rose from the ground without me sensing it.  I want to go to work before I lose my job.  Most of all, I want you to still be here when I return.”

“Go to work.  I’ll be here in the morning.”

“Promise?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?  She hasn’t challenged you.  Yet. Go on, you’re almost late.  We’ll talk about it, no weapons, okay?”

“Bite me.  Hard.”

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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

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