Mrs. Green

The teeth of my comb strikes like an asp; the Sea Wasp venom takes effect. I know I don’t have much time and I find his private cell phone right where Mrs. Green said it would be and dial his home-her home-number. I tell her he’s on my hook, the next move is her’s and I hand him the phone.

People who have been stung by a Sea Wasp, usually pass out from the pain but have been known to scream even after loosing consciousness. He stares at me with watery bloodshot eyes, hazel and helpless. For some huntresses, this would be when he is most dangerous, a pleading fallen soldier. I just stare back, emotionless, caressing my platinum dagger against his cheek.

A few minutes later, the code falls from his lips. He hands the phone back to me and his wife tells me to put him on hold. I draw out a vile of vinegar and apply it to the wound and tell her he’s on hold. And while his wife sooths him, like a female tigress, I retrieve the alimony documents from the safe.

I dial 911 and tell him if he signs, I’ll hit send.

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