Two men. Pin stripe suits. White
shirts, crisp and clean. Ties, one green, likely in favor of St.
Patrick's day. The other red, with tiny flecks of gold. Bethany walks
up to their table in her too-short shirt and sets two glasses before
them, neatly arranging them to fit on the circular white coasters
just above the knives. The man on the left straightens his
silverware, shakes his head. "I still don't know how you did it,
Bob gives a throaty laugh. Sips from
his drink and appraises Bethany's legs.
"Are you ready to order?"
Bob scans the menu and lifts a finger
in the air. "Hang on...Don't go anywhere."
The lunch crowd is horrible today.
Bethany just wants to go home and soak her feet in a hot bath, curl
up with her book on hacking. Computers are just a bunch of numbers.
And she understands numbers so much more than people. Numbers are
predictable. You can count on them, they way you can't count on a
friend to ignore you or a spouse to leave you or even the man next
door who'd promised to change the light switch in her kitchen last
Bob glances at the man across from him,
wipes the palm of his right hand across the left. "I made it all
disappear. First wife. Gone. She has no idea where I am."
"Really." He takes a drink
and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "Bank accounts
cleaned out and opened under a new name. Credit card bills..."
He grins. "I took my name off of those and left her with the
balance. Tore my past life up in pieces and swept it under the rug."
He removes a business card from his front pocket. "I'm a new
Bethany scans the card quickly. William
Davidson. Attorney. She memorizes the telephone number and the
The man laughs. "You're amazing. I
could learn a thing or two from you."
"You in town for long?"
"Naw. Got to get back to Barbados
tonight." Bob/William grins. "The new wife..."
Bethany makes a point of tapping her
foot on the floor. She sighs deeply. "You want me to come back
"No. Uh..." Bob looks up.
"What are you having Phillip?"
"Ham sandwich on rye. Chips."
Bob nods. "Double that, sweetie."
His hand grazes Bethany's leg as she walks past.
She sighs and heads to the kitchen,
shouts out the order to Junior who gives a neat nod. "Hey,
Frankie looks up from the bar.
"Can you take over my tables for a
Frankie starts to arrange his face in a
"I have the cramps," Bethany
"Go. GO!" Frankie reddens and
waves her towards the back.
In the employee break room, she logs
onto her computer and brings up Google.
Twenty minutes later, Bethany finds
what she's looking for. She slides her cell from her back pocket and
"Bethany?" Junior stands in
the doorway. "Frankie's getting pissed."
"Oh, shit!" She leaps up,
shuts the cover of her laptop. "Don't tell him?"
Junior smiles. "You can trust me."
She heads immediately to Bob/William's
table; presents the bill. "Thank you, darlin'," he drawls.
She smiles. "Spoke with your wife
He frowns, confused. "I beg your
"Your wife? Mary Jane Donaldson?"
"Yeah. You may have swept it all
under the rug, but let's just say I'm a really, really good
housekeeper." She turns away, just as the door to the restaurant
opens. A woman. Two police officers.
She clocks out early and heads home.
Kelly Garriott Waite on Google+
Labels: flash fiction, scriptic.org