Cupid's Hitman

Planes land and take off every few minutes.

Some people lounged on the low, comfy chairs,

and others bounced on their toes.

People wandered through the luggage

to find their belongings.

The large windows painted

the sun shielded behind

dark clouds on a Seattle afternoon.

I sat in the lounge and sipped a warm cup of coffee.

I had a headcase of jet lag,

but I had to keep my eyes peeled.

Someone was looking to be found.

I wore a thick coat with boots

to stomp over accumulated snow.

Cross-talk on walkie-talkies changed the opinion

of the other speaking.

What was I supposed to do?

A woman’s wanting eyes

hungered to feast, sharpening with the span

of attention, like knives with dull blades.

Workers speaking over ceiling speakers

and people pushing through terminals

confused more people than it guided to calm.

I flipped through a men’s magazine

tucked behind a Bible,

waiting for a ride.

Her lust ignited the gunpowder of infatuation in me.

I lifted my gaze to a blaze

of suspicion cast in my direction.

Our eyes locked.

Neither blinked.

“Hi,” she whispered with the thunder of a crush.

I swallowed hard. “Hi,” I said, more awkwardly than I’d wanted to.

She tucked her long, dark bangs behind her ear. “That seat taken?” she said, motioning.

I cracked a grin. “Tell me what your name is.”

“Eleanor,” she said.

I looked down and returned my focus to her. “It’s your lucky day,” I said. “This seat has your name on it.”

Eleanor stood, gathered her bags, and sat beside me.

“What are we reading?” Eleanore said. “Can’t be the Bible.”

Eleanor leaned in, wanting me to smell her Escape sprayed on her neck. “A men’s magazine,” Eleanor said, smiling over her straight teeth. “Your secret is safe with me.” She winked.

We paid no mind to the people raising their voices over a late flight.

“Where are you coming from?” I live in Seattle.

“Me too,” I said.

“I know,” she said.

“How?”

“I used to go by—”

“Alley?” I placed my book down and shifted in my seat. “What happened?”

“My ex-husband happened,” Alley said.

“What’s with the Eleanor name?” I said.

“The police told me to change my name for safety.”

“Is it that bad?” I arched a brow.

“He’ll find me,” Alley said in a defeated tone.

“My parents moved in next door to yours,” Alley said. “Our parents have always been close friends.”

“It’s too bad we went to different high schools,” I said. “I haven’t been home in five years,” I said. “What are the odds?”

“Divine intervention,” Alley said with a splash of sarcasm.

I laughed.

“What?”

“Your husband hired me to kill you.” I reached into my breast pocket.

“I was never going to do it, but I couldn’t let him hire someone who would follow through with it.”

“I know everything about you.”

“Why didn’t you want to kill me?”

“I’ve had a crush on you since Dad showed me your picture.”

“Why didn’t you talk to me?”

“I was in ‘love’ with Mary Weaver.”

“She have a good beaver?” Alley arched a brow.

We laughed.

“Your secret is safe with me.”

“What secret?” she said.

“Mom said you had a crush on me, too.” I winked.

I wrapped my arm around Alley. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.”

By Andy Cooper

From: United States

Twitter: AC0040