Til Death Do Us Part Vol. II
"Girl, if I had an ass like that, I'd never work another day in my life," Angelina proclaimed.
"It's all in how you work it."
Veronica sat with her friend, martini in hand, hint of lust in her eye as she gazed upon the curvy exotic dancer, gyrating just in tune with what felt like a never-ending bass line.
"Work what? I'm flatter than hell down there. At least god didn't curse me like that all over. Eh, but still. Hers are bigger."
"Confidence in men is sexy." She stood up, placing her jacket on her chair.
"But a woman who knows what she wants?"
"Okay? What are you doing?" Veronica downed her drink before jumping on stage, causing the dancer to pause and look towards the owner who was sitting in a booth nearby.
"Oh my god, you're gonna get us thrown out. C'mon, this is where I unwind. You know porn doesn't do it for me anymore!"
She failed to heed Angelina's warnings, instead twisting about, removing her shirt, drawing eyes from around the club. Including that of Mike who was attending a bachelor party.
"Alright, boys, alright! Let's keep it clean. No touching! I can only afford for one of us to go home with a performer tonight and I sure as hell ain't wasting my money on any of you fucking shmucks, eh?" His friend, Shaun, announced.
"Yeah, money's the only way you get laid," Dave, the husband-to-be joked.
"You think getting married's gonna get you laid? Boy, do I feel sorry for you. Besides, the money ain't for the action. It's for her Uber home in the morning. After all, I'm a gentleman!"
"Ah, looks like Mike's got eyes for someone special!"
"Can't believe you dragged me here..." he replied, distraught.
"Oh, that's right. You don't like women, huh?" Shaun quipped. Mike scoffed.
"It was for your own good, man. If this is my last hurrah, the least I can do is get you your first."
"Yeah, and it's criminal I'm paying at all for this considering he makes more than the rest of us combined," Shaun argued.
"Alright, I got the rest of my marriage to hear incessant bitching. Let's just get to it, eh?"
The owner stood from his table, pardoning himself from present company. Angelina took notice.
"And here it comes," she warned in a sing-songy tone.
"Here what comes?"
"The man who runs the place."
Veronica glanced around the room, now down to nothing but her bra and underwear.
"You think he's an ass man?"
She bent over, much to the chagrin of the dancer who stood idly by, disgusted, arms crossed.
"Excuse me, Miss?" He beckoned.
"Her name's Astrid. Total slut," she joked.
"Mm, I do like businessmen."
She swiped his cigar, inhaled briefly, and blew the smoke just to the side of his face before winking.
"Listen, Sharyn. Give us some space, eh?"
The dancer gasped, quickly making her way off-stage in a huff. Angelina reached into her wallet and took out a few singles.
"You about to offer me a job here?"
"Well, I have to say that—
"What would you do to me, huh? Bend me over your desk? How much of your staff have you fucked?"
"I don't know what kind of place you think I'm running here, Astrid, but—
"Can you eat pussy? My friend here does it so good."
She crouched down while Angelina offered a finger wave, slipping the bills down inside her panties.
"Alright, time to get down."
"Sweetheart, let's cut to the chase. I prefer men who are stupid. You get them all hot and bothered, blood rushing from one head to the other, they'll do just about anything. Isn't that right, baby?"
"It's true."
A crowd of guys soon gathered, money in hand.
"So, you can keep lying to yourself. Acting like you're not a pig who runs a barn. Or, you sit back with what looks to be a rock hard cock..."
"Aw, look at that."
"...and not ruin everyone's good time by acting like a self-righteous poser. Your choice."
She placed the cigar back inside his mouth.
"Let her stay! Let her stay! Let her stay!" Dave yelled. The chant grew as the owner looked on, contemplating his next move. Mike was at the bar.
"I take it this isn't part of tonight's entertainment?"
"Who, Vee? She's a regular," the bartender stated.
"Really?"
"Oh yeah. Her and that shy little number come traipsing in here just about every night. Was only a matter of time before she jumped on that stage."
The owner threw up his hands and walked off to raucous applause. Mike scoffed, taking a sip of his bourbon.
Presently, the reality of his and Veronica's situation was yet fresh, with the latter sitting in absolute silence, face absent expression.
"FUCK! Fuck, fuck, fuck! Oh my god! I can't breathe. Jesus Christ! We just hit a goddamn person. And his FUCKING dog!" He clenched the steering wheel with both hands, body shaking, eyes closed. "God, no! Fucking no, no, no! Why?!"
Veronica got out of the car, appearing autonomous in her movements, as she approached what was now a grisly scene, eyes darting side-to-side.
"Mike..."
"I'm gonna, oh my god, I'm gonna..."
He began retching, the door flinging open, much to the chagrin of his wife who appeared annoyed, now kneeling over Reeko, whose lifeless yet harrowed expression reflected that of his final moments.
"Mike, you— Jesus Christ!" She again peered around before hurriedly making her way over towards Mike, who was now face down in the dirt, whimpering.
"Hey. Hey! Do you want to draw attention our way?"
"It doesn't fucking MATTER! I JUST KILLED SOMEONE IN—
"Would you shut the fuck up?! Listen to me, babe. Now isn't the time to fucking panic."
"...in broad fucking daylight oh my god... fucking why?!" A switch then flipped in his mind. There was only one person to blame. It all became clear. He slowly began to lift himself up, mud dripping from his chin along with vomit. "Oh wait. I know why. It's my fucking...whore...of a wife. The goddamn BANE," He tripped slightly as he stood. Veronica remained silent, concentrating on the problem at hand, unbothered by his harsh insults. "of my fucking EXISTENCE! I should have NEVER—
"Reeko's truck. You need to guard his body."
"Wait, wait. Are you suggesting we— Veronica!"
Veronica smacked Mike across the face, nostrils flared.
"I'm done listening to another fucking word that comes out of your mouth.
We need to get Reeko and his dog out of here before anyone sees!"
"Hit me again, see what happens. We are NOT moving the fucking body. My god, do you fucking hear yourself?! I'm calling the police right—
As he took out his phone, Veronica tossed it at Reeko's body, slipping off his back and onto the ground.
"There. Now it's evidence."
"You fucking bitch! You're insane!"
"And you're the one who's gonna go to prison for manslaughter if you don't fucking listen to me. We get Reeko's truck and—
Mike backhanded Veronica who let out a sharp grunt and stumbled backward. She sat for a moment in disbelief, soon wiping blood from the corner of her mouth.
Years earlier, however, the party raged on.
"Get up here, Ange!"
"They want you!"
"You don't mind if my friend joins us, do you boys?"
"Fuck me. Okay. This is happening!"
She crawled up on stage as Mike looked on, glass in hand, standing at the bar. His friends were also transfixed by the pair.
"Where's Mike," Dave asked.
"Who cares? Get it, ladies! C'mon, don't be shy, Blondie. Take it off!"
"Boys really are stupid." Angelina remarked.
"And easy." Veronica affirmed.
Angelina took her top off, throwing it into the gathering crowd who cheered.
"Oh, um. Wait. That was actually a cute top. Can I... never mind."
They continued gyrating as the music pounded.
"There goes the other one," he remarked to the barkeep, an older blonde woman with faded tattoo sleeves, low-cut top and black leather pants.
"Yep. What I tell ya."
"Looked like the understudy wasn't too thrilled."
"That's Sharyn. Sweet thing, er, used to be. Until the state took her kids. Drug problem. Now she lives upstairs. Half the time Chuckie spends the night, too, if you catch my drift. The owner."
"Hmm."
"So, what's your story?"
"Here for a bachelor party."
"Sure you're not a cop?"
"You'd tell a person who you think is a police officer about all these drugs the dancers are doing?"
"Honey, half of our clientele are either police officers, politicians, even a judge or two. You'd be surprised who comes through here. Long as nobody kills anyone?"
"Well. This just... usually isn't my type of scene."
"You like women, don't ya? Some booze, clearly. What's not to love?"
"So you love your job?"
"My twin boys are off to college, I've been divorced since they could walk. Got knocked up working in this place right out of high school."
"Classy. So you've come full circle, then, eh?" He took a sip, sporting a wry grin.
"You know what's worse than a prude? A stuck-up prick."
"That's not nice. Aren't bartenders supposed to be—
Mike noticed Sharyn, now dressed in a long fur coat, reach into her purse and pull out a small pistol, staring a hole through Veronica from just off-stage.
A look that eerily mirrored one Mike was now giving to his wife. There was no love left upon looking down at her— only disgust.
"You actually hit me," she said, in awe.
"You're gonna hand me your phone and... oh FUCK!"
"Mike."
"Just SHUT UP! Look what you made me do... oh, Jesus."
"We can get out of this." Her tone switched to that of concern as she rushed to his side, soon rubbing his back.
"Give me... your phone."
"Forget guarding him. We'll put him and the dog in our car. In the trunk!"
"Just who the hell did I marry anyway? Huh?! We are NOT DOING ANYTHING TO—
"So you're fine with both of our lives being over?! I'm not going down like that." She stormed towards Bella, soon dragging her by her two front paws. "Guess you were right not to trust me, girl. Sorry."
"You're a fucking psycho. Look at you! I've had enough."
"'Yes, detective. My husband beat me, then went on a rampage in our car. I tried to stop him!'"
She tossed her phone over her shoulder, Mike nearly dropping it. He went to dial 911, hands yet shaky, breath trembling. Through much perseverance, the line began to ring.
"911, what's your emergency?"
"Hey hon! Those burgers sure smell good! But the grill could be a little hotter. Why don't you open the trunk so I can get some more charcoal?"
"Hello?'
"Babe?"
Prior to this, back at the club, Sharyn, eyes teary, pointed the gun forward, causing Mike to drop his glass and sprint towards the stage.
"Look out! She's got a gun!" His warnings went unheard, drowned out by the overbearing club mix. "Get down!"
"Huh?" He leapt up and tackled her to the ground as a shot rang out, causing mass hysteria. Amidst an army of people hurrying for the exits, he soon noticed Sharyn's corpse, brains splattered everywhere. "What just happened?!"
"Don't worry, I'm calling for help. You're okay, it's over."
"911, what's your emergency?"
Currently, Mike was making a similar call. Only, the fault lie directly at his feet.
"Hello? Are you in danger?"
Expressionless, face pale, he paused a moment before hanging up, making a beeline for Reeko.