Welcome to the first of many story posts! Varying from micro-short to full short stories and beyond, I wanted a way to share some of my work. This first one was inspired by a writing prompt that had to include an object (lady bug), baked goods, and a secret. I give you “A Jab at Normal.”
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Those who know me would say I’m a “happy-go-lucky” kinda guy, at least those who know me now; after the clause. It was stupid really, a game contrived and enacted by a group of assassins blinded by the ignorance of a god complex that could only be left to the blame of youth and bloodlust. For years I’d managed to escape its rules, staying out of sight and mind.
The bloodlust was enjoyable for a while. I thought to myself as I quickly shook the nostalgia from my mind and bit down on the hard, not even endowed with a morsel of joy, biscuits that my boyfriend’s boss baked for the holiday party.
The normal, ordinary party for an anti-virus software company that still has hope Windows 98 will make a comeback. I quickly took the pieces out of my mouth and spat them into my handkerchief while pretending to cough as Lucille waddled over; practically pouring out of her dotted JCPenny blouse fresh off the sale rack.
Lewis elbowed me in the side, which barely felt like a scratch compared to how much sharpened steel my ribs managed to evade over time. But still, normal life, normal boyfriend, I reminded myself; pretending to squint under the oh-so-mighty-strength of his computer-programmer biceps.
“Please Jonah,” That’s not my real name by the way, “you know I need this to go well. I’m up for Regional Account Manager, and Lucille holds the keys to the kingdom.”
I just smiled at him as I took in those soft brown eyes that were so genuinely innocent you almost wanted to smack him, but not before holding him tight and planting one. Most every facet of my “normal” facade I had to work constantly at faking, but not when it came to those eyes.
Not with Lewis.
“Lewis, I see your plus one has found my infamous biscuits and scones. Please try another…” The french-tipped blubber she called hands grasped the tray like her worth depended upon my response.
Lewis locked eyes with me, Lucille’s beady blues fixed on her prized baked goods. I’d once managed to kill a garrison of mercenaries while breaking out of a third-world bunker with nothing but a broken arm and a shiv, but for some reason this had me nervous.
So I shoved one of the scones down my esophagus as my eyes bulged. I don’t know how in hell it could’ve been dryer than the biscuits, but it was. The shrew known as Lucille watched its every move as I swallowed.
Dear god I’d rather die than take another bite. Water, I need water.
Her fingers clenched the tray harder as she started to give Lewis a disapproving glance.
How dare she give that sweet man any grief. I almost wanted to use her tacky, encrusted brooch to shred her throat lining and watch her bleed out onto her biscuits; another meek, elbow nudge from Lewis brought me back.
I grabbed his drink and downed my urges, along with the scones.
“That’s absolutely the best scone I’ve had this side of the mid-west ma’am.” I said with full conviction as Lucille plopped the pewter tray back down with glee.
“Your friend has good taste Lewis,” She said as she waddled past, stopping to turn and gloat with, “I’ll have you know that recipe has made its rounds in many competitions, hell I even won enough to pamper myself with a treat at the last one, oh…you just wait right here I’ll go get it and show ya…”
But before I could pinch the nerve in the base of her neck and make her pass out into the three fucking trays of deviled eggs on the buffet, she was off to retrieve whatever this treat was.
“If we go now Lew, we can catch the great British baking finale AND be rid of the pain that will surely come from whatever boring torture Lucille will inflict when she returns—“
He just clutched my hand and kissed the top of it with a look that he knew would subdue and win me over. That nerdy fucking face with his boyish features and dark brows.
Normal life. Normal boyfriend.
“Okay fine we can stay. But if she calls me your friend one more time I’ll use her to show everyone three different ways to kill someone with a butter knife…”
He just chuckled at me while squeezing my hand with a thank you.
“You always say the craziest things. You wouldn’t hurt a fly…I think I’m going to have to cut you off of that dexter show.”
Dexter is god. Man knows how to kill.
I just kept watching Lewis as he turned with the other software programmers who were trying to suck up to Lucille as she waddled back toward us; the vibrations of her stubs hitting the floor.
Normal life. Normal boyfriend.
I was doing it. Never thought I could, or would admit it, but…I kind of liked it.
I didn’t miss the torture, or near death, or endless arsenal of pain inflicting accessories, nor assassinations as much as I’d thought. I had Lew to thank for that.
And if Lucille didn’t give him the promotion, I already had a vile of home-made poison to spike her rum and coke with.
So I took a deep breath, and turned toward Lucille ready to be my man’s accomplice with whatever response he needed in support.
Then my eyes fell on the treat Lucille had bought herself.
There, on her neck was that fucking necklace. A gemstone lady bug with encrusted leaves that when looked upon closely had skulls engraved in the stem.
All off a sudden that life came rushing back. The blood oath we all took to answer the call should the necklace find us. And the payment it required as a show of loyalty.
My bones, muscles, and nerves came alive and alert with the feeling of impending blood shed. Everyone in the room would have to die, the rest of them would be here soon enough to make sure of it…in case I’d gone soft.
In all my endless calculations of possibilities id prepared for, none of them ever included the one thing that would make this harder than it needed to be.
None of them included falling in love with Lewis. None of them included the nerdy programmer who would make be break the clause.
Lucille would be easy to kill, but he was out of the question.
I could already hear the sound of their arrival outside as sharp metal grazed the cement accessibility ramp.
It was going to be bloody.
It never occurred to me until now that deep down I’d hoped I’d outlasted the clause and the merciless game it required.
I just hoped that afterward Lew would still want to look at me the same way.
Even if he didn’t, at least him looking at me would mean he was still alive.
I pulled him in for a kiss and shoved him into the nearby utility closet, as I sealed the door and wrapped my clenched knuckles around the butter knife.
It was time.