Friday, June 11, 2010

Just a Job

      “By the ankles?”
      “Yep,” replied Vince. He flicked his cigarette off the deck into the sand below.
      “Off the side of the boat?” She cringed as she pictured him falling into the shark infested waters. Chum for the would-be fishermen. “He didn’t deserve it, ya know.”
      “Didn’t he? He read the contract. He knew the rules.”
      “Yeah, but he was nice.”
      “How do you know? You never talked to him. Right?” Vince stood up and walked over to where she was sitting.
      “It’s just—”
      “Just what?”
      “He…he had kind eyes. I could just see that he was nice. That’s all.” She finished her margarita, the third one in less than an hour. She stared out at the ocean. The water was almost the right shade of blue. It needed just a bit more green.
      “You liked his eyes?” he said, looming over her chaise.
      “And no one’s ever come to you like that before. Usually it’s just a job. Cold. Calculated. He was crying, Vince. He was heartbroken.”
      “He was weak, that’s what he was.”
      “No, look, if you really knew him—”
      “Like you knew him, darling?”


J. M. Strother said...

I like the writing here, tight and intense, but I'm left with so many questions. Who "he" was. Why "he" deserved it. And she seems dangerously close to crossing the line with Vince. Really quite intriguing.

ganymeder said...

Yeah, I want to know more! Maybe just another sentence to maybe give us a little hint? I suspect that the woman might have known him in other ways, but there's not enough to really tell.

Great read. You had me hooked.

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