She took out her glossy red lipstick and applied another layer. Her sinister eyes glared at him as he cast his downwards.
“I can explain,” he mumbled under his breath.
“I would rather you didn’t,” she cooed. “Because I would rather play a little game. A number game. I figured you would like that seeing as you’re an accountant and all.”
“Look, I know you are angry at me…”
“Seventeen,” she interrupted. “That is how old I was when I first met you. Subtract fifteen from that and you will find out how long I was married to you. Add another twenty to that number, and that is about how many times I caught you cheating. If you multiply that by two, the product will equal how many dollars I got from our divorce. Not thousands of dollars, not millions of dollars, but actual single dollar bills. But that doesn’t matter at the moment. Because the only number you should be concerned with is the number one.”
“And why is that?” he mumbled.
“Because that’s the number of bullets I’m going to shoot into your head.”