No One Ever Will

I thought I had done some bad things in my life, but she quickly put things into perspective.

We met over coffee. I asked, “May I sit here?” and she responded, “If you dare.”

I smiled at her, and her lips returned the favor, but there was something dark in her eyes. I didn’t notice at first, beyond the subconscious shiver that all men feel when a dangerous woman glances in their direction. I knew instantly that my charms were of no use here, that I would not be successful with any lines, cons, or ploys.

She had no games to play with me. We were both here for coffee, hot, black, bitter, for the caffeine, for the quick pick-up that fades too soon, unless stacked into itchy jitters. I dropped any pretenses and accepted her as another social predator.

We exchanged some idle chit-chat, the kind two hunters use to feel each other out, without raising any challenges. I stared at her as she read text messages on her cell phone. Occasionally, she would raise her eyes to me, those dark eyes that hid dark secrets.

I teased her about being a goth, or emo, or whatever it was that passed for fashionably dark these days, and she smiled. It was a sincere smile, which, in contrast to the twin abyssal eyes, seemed to softly glow with hope. She kindly warned me not to be in the way when business called.

I told her I had no interest in professional working girls. She received a message, stood, and said, “It has been a pleasure, but it is time for me to kill someone.”

Five minutes later, I heard gunshots. That night, the evening news had scenes of a dead corporate executive. Witness say a woman shot him, but no one could give a clear description.

From my perspective, no one ever will.