CONSEQUENCE
“Do you believe in fate?”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“I’m just saying, baby, out of all the girls in the club tonight, I managed to bump into you,” he says, brushing my hair out of my face.
“Yeah, it’s pretty lucky.”
“I’ll say.” His eyes move over my body. He bites his lip.
“I’m hungry.” I say. “Do you have anything to eat?”
“Sure, babydoll, what do you want?”
“Whatever.”
He gets up from the couch and walks into the kitchen. I pull out a small baggie from my purse and empty it in his drink. I see the granules swishing around the edges as I gently rock the cup from side to side. I hear him coming back.
“Here you are, sweetheart,” he says, handing me a bag of chips.
“Thanks,” I say.
“There’s no need to be shy, babygirl, I know you’re more grown-up than that.”
“You better keep up!” I say, holding up my drink.
“You’re almost done with yours already! Damn girl, what would your mama say if she knew you drank like this?”
“I’m sure she wouldn’t like it, but she’s not here now is she?” I say.
“No,” he says, “She’s not.”
His gaze falls on my lips.
“I have to use the bathroom,” I say, “Where is it?”
“Second door on the left, down that hallway.”
“Thanks,” I say, putting the empty glass on the table. “You’d better catch up! That should be gone when I get back!”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says, leaning back into the couch. He watches me as I walk to the bathroom.
***
“I’ve only ever played putt-putt, and I’m not very good at it,” I say, swinging his nine-iron.
He lies on the couch, struggling to move.
“I usually get so angry I cheat and just throw the stupid ball past the windmill for the free game.”
He twitches.
“Aw, baby,” I say, leaning over him, club at my side. “What’s the matter? Are you trying to get comfortable but just can’t?”
He spasms and begins to slide off the couch, slumped on his side.
“That’s not going to work,” I say. “You should know all about that though. I’m honestly impressed you were able to find this shit. It’s taken me six months to get a hold of some. I didn’t know where to start. Do you guys wear some sort of secret symbol that lets other sick fucks know you’re down with drugging and raping women? I mean you can’t just come out and ask for it at a party!” I laugh.
His head is drooped over, his left arm underneath his body.
“I’m so sorry if that’s uncomfortable for you. That’s the funny thing about Rohypnol- you can feel pain, but you can’t do anything about it.”
I clench the club tight in my fist.
“You can’t fight back.”
He moans, low from the back of his throat.
“But you know all this, of course.”
He looks at the golf club.
“I’m not going to hurt you with this, baby.”
I lay it down and sit next to him. I brush away the hair away from his eyes.
“Darling, we both know why I’m here. I just wanted to tell you how well my sister’s doing at St. Augustine’s Mental Health Center. Though she’s taken a bit longer than expected to recover after the trial.”
He moans again.
“There, there, baby. It’s going to be okay. Just sit tight and don’t worry about a thing. Justice is here now. No little legal loopholes this time. In fact, I won’t be doing any paperwork at all!”
I take the knife from my purse. I pull out two black leather gloves. As I put them on, his body completely slides off the couch. I brush the hair out of his eyes once more.
“You need to see this, baby.”
His eyes race around in their sockets, I pick up the knife and raise it high over my head.
