An Easy Target

Eats like a horse, runs like a gazelle, unfortunately talks like a parrot; loud, obnoxious and very repetitive. It was all could do to stop from stuffing crackers in his face and telling him to go sit in the Birdie Boiler. God, I had to stop watching Disney movies, these cartoon references in my head were not doing anything to help my mood; though the idea of sitting this dude on top of a steaming exit fissure that erupted violently under pressure was beginning to please me.

It’s just that he was the fourth one this week. My best friend had said I needed to get out more, meet a few new guys, and get back into the relationship swing of things. I thought Stacy was wrong then and this last week has just emphasized my point. Hank had barely been dead a year now, I was just getting back my nerve to drive the car around again, and it was still too early to think about other guys. I sighed; Hank had been the last good one too. I agreed with the age old saying, “All the good ones are either gay or taken.” This guy was just like those other hopefuls, they saw a young and supposedly pretty young woman who signed up for a dating service months after a tragic accident took the love of her life. An easy target.

I smoothed the front of my shirt down a bit, an unconscious habit of mine that Hank had adored, and I needed to reassure myself that there were no crumbs left on the fabric. I did so hate to seem unappreciative of appearances. My thoughts slipped back to Stacy; she was the one who had helped me choose this outfit. A close, form-fitting turquoise top with a low v-cut neckline that dipped just low enough to show a bit of curve. The fabric was not really silk or satin but it slid easily over my skin and shimmered in the candle light from the single flame in the middle of our table. Of course I was wearing a skirt because one must look ones best when going on a blind date set up by an internet dating service. I snorted noiselessly in my head at that thought. Still, though, the skirt was gorgeous. It was solidly black but with many undertones and different shades done in various materials that when the full skirt swished around as I walked it looked like it was moving all around on its own. With the shirt being form fitting the skirt blended perfectly down with a high waist and wide line of simple cloth wrapped around above my hips and then the fabric opening up into the full, crimp textured skirt that swirled around mid-calf. Supple ankle-high black boots completed the outfit with a small inch high stiletto heel.

I suppose I must have been staring at my lap for too long without giving some indication that I was suitably impressed with my latest suitor because he coughed pointedly and asked if anything was the matter. I raised my eyes from their unfocused contemplation of my skirt covered lap and regarded him, flicking my deeply rich brown hair off my shoulder with a habitual shake of my head. I smiled at him with my mouth and uttered a few words about dinner being lovely but it was probably time to leave soon. Across the table he regarded me for a few instants then with a small smile tugging at his mouth called to waiter over for the check and after showing me our pitiful $40 bill, rather pointedly left a $50 on the table and stood up to leave not even bothering to assist me up. I took it all in good part though, he was after all only a random guy that a computer had pulled from a million other files to match my very unspecific profile.

Rising gracefully from my seat I managed not to stumble in my heels and grabbed my black jacket purse off the back of my chair. I indicated with a nod that I was ready to leave but he has already started walking away. Not towards the Entry/Exit we had come into the restaurant through, but up the back stairs to the upper levels of the establishment. I had figured on this as well, it was the same thing all the others had tried. I wondered again if there was something about me that just screamed “Vulnerable, take advantage of her now, free of charge!” because if not, what little remained of my faith in the male side of the human race would continue moving lower and lower.

He led me up the plush steps which were none to easy on my spiked heels and stopped in front of the third door, identical to all the rest except for a “Rented” sign hanging slightly askew off the door handle. Same room as the other guys too. Maybe 3 was just their lucky number but I suspected that this lovely little agency I had signed up for rented this place out on a regular basis. I let him struggle with the key for a few minutes, obviously oblivious to the fact that perhaps he’d had too much wine at dinner. He finally wrenched the old wooden panel open and viciously kicked it to the side into the wall as he walked inside.

Silently, I walked past him until I stood in the center of the not-so-large crummy room and turned to regard this little speck of a man now struggling to close the door he had kicked into an indent in the wall. Everyone seemed to be just following in the actions of their predecessors these nights. Maybe they all went through basic training in male egotistical skills or something. As his back was turned to me, still trying to get the door off the wall and back into its frame I began pulling out the pieces to my own pleasure this evening. The full skirt came with the advantage of concealing anything placed or strapped around me and the black fabric effectively cut down the chance that anyone could see through the dense color. First out came the sterile glove, then the little pistol with its amateur muffling device being attached as I watched this cretin of a human being finally get a hang of closing the door. Next out was the single round that would be needed followed by the plastic bag to cover everything and catch any loose ends. It always helped to keep up appearances and remain neat and tidy.

He turned around with the full expectation of seeing me unclothed and ready for him laying on the bed and beckoning. After all, I had come quietly and, according to him, willingly and was partnered with him through a bizarre computational twist. That light of expectation died in the few short instants it took for him to complete his turn facing me and the single small piece of lead to find its way into the open spot on his forehead right between his wide, light blue eyes. The force of impact shoved him heavily backwards into the dark paint on the inside of the door and the now dead body slumped downward in a position that would have been painful if there had still been a functioning mind to sense any sensory input that may still be being sent to that area.

Out came the small aerosol can of hairspray that looked completely innocent in my purse and its contents went onto the door, a small piece of wall and all over the floor and body where it still lay. No sense letting things be easy for anyone to identify the dude through blood testing. I stopped and surveyed my work, it had gone well again. Hank, I wish you could see me now, be here with me even if it was just to help move the body inconspicuously to the bathroom. I sighed a bit over that and none to gently shoved the leg-shaped pieces of dead flesh out of my way to open the door. The cleaning service was very good here, all they needed was the contents of the wallet found on the body and a few days to rack up credit until it was found the owner was gone from this world and the body would disappear while another fresh coat of dark paint was applied onto the inside of the door as had been done 3 times previously this week. The expected service was waiting for me as the door moved easily open and I stepped quickly out into the hall, the scent of all that hairspray could become very overpowering quite quickly. I nodded to the body in the maid uniform and indicated inside the room with a small twist of my head in that direction.

“He was a big spender; there is doubtless cash in there along with multiple pieces of plastic.” I commented nonchalantly then moved purposely down the hallway and out another set of back stairs that put me onto the street in front of the restaurant a few feet away from the Entry/Exit doors I had walked in through just scant hours before. I nodded to the door guard whose job it was to open the door for people going in and out every night then made my way down the street to where my car was parked in front of a meter with ten minutes on it left to go. I was getting better with my timing, Wednesday there had only been two minutes remaining and Sunday I went over by five but luckily there hadn’t been any police driving by to check.

I pulled slowly out of the meter space with my blinker on and drove home in the relative peace and quiet a good vehicle can give you. My glove, bag and the casing had been tossed off the back stairwell and my beautiful little pistol was once again strapped securely into its hidden holster on my waistband. I parked the car out on the street in front of my house, I had no garage but I had never missed such a thing, and let myself in the painted, soft blue front door. Black coat up on hanger in hall closet, purse draped over kitchen chair back, shoes lined up nicely by the door, shirt and skirt shed into heaps on the floor and I was in my soft much too big bed within 30 minutes of walking in my door. I half turned to look at the picture on my night stand to the left of the bed,

“Good night Hank. I have another date tomorrow night.” With that I turned over with a contented sigh and went to sleep to dream of happier times with my beloved.