Just a silly flash story, not that good but it was pounding away in my head to get out. No sex, no raac, etc.
*****
You ever have one of those days when nothing seems to go right? I should have realized that today was one of those days when I got a call to go out to the south of town to unlock a house. I've always disliked that part of town, it's full of rich snobs who think that the sun shines on their ass 24/7. Most of them are know it all's as well, so I just knew that this was going to be a bitch of a job.
As I rolled up in front of the white McMansion and saw the lady of the house in a terrycloth robe, and not much else, I sighed loudly. Yep, this was going to suck balls for sure. I stepped out of my truck and grabbed my basic pick and bump key set, hoping against hope that this was not going to be a high security setup like a Mul-t-Lock or Medeco.
"Finally, you're here! I told them I needed someone fast and you took over half an hour, thank goodness I wasn't dying or anything!"
I pasted a smile on my face, even though I wanted to turn around, get back in my truck and leave. My client, who was doing her very best to impersonate a screech owl, was a fair representation of what I had come to expect of this neighborhood. I would guesstimate late 30's, had some bodywork done, definitely too much primping of the face, and she was your basic trophy wife to some 60 year old I would hazard to guess.
"Sorry, ma'am, got here as quick as I could. Is it the front door you are having issues with?"
She loudly let me know that it was, so I hurried over to it. Naturally it was a high security lock, an Angal, which is basically a Chinese knock off of the Mul-t-Lock brand. I silently cursed to myself, knowing that it was going to take at least ten or more minutes to pick. I sent a short prayer to God and Sonny Jesus that it would go fast and that she would be quiet while I worked.
Naturally, they both decided I needed a taste of Hell and Brimstone. Over the next 20 minutes, I heard a litany of what ground the lady's gear's. Her husband was probably cheating, her dog had explosive diarrhea all over the dry cleaning, her son was boffing someone on the football team, and here she was, locked out with an important society event and wasn't I just taking forever to open a simple lock. I tell you, somedays you just shouldn't wake up and go to work.
Finally the last pin tripped and I spun the lock open, she rushed past me into the house so I went back to my truck and started writing up the invoice. Five minutes ticked by, then ten, and I'm wondering what the silly bitch is up to. I walked up to the door, knocked a few times, but heard nothing. Shrugging, I trotted back to my vehicle, ripped up the invoice, and started another. A total of 45 minutes later, I hear the garage door roll up and I see that she is coming towards me dressed in what women in this area code call fashion. So, I hand her the adjusted invoice and she screeches about paying me for the time I waited. What did I expect?
Anyway, the rest of the day was on par with the start, so I was more than ready for dinner and time with my wife when my last call was over. I drove home and noticed her car was gone, but I figured she might be at the store or something. I went inside and kicked off my boots, grabbed a cold one, and grabbed some sample locks I had been planning on practicing on. I was almost done with an old Ruko when I heard my wife's car pulling into the driveway. I set it aside and grabbed the old towel I had to wipe my hands on, hoping that she had brought some take out home because I was starving. I guess when I heard her laughing and what sounded like a male voice speaking in low tones, I should have realized that house fried rice was unlikely tonight.
She walked into the dining room with what looked like a college kid in tow, I assume some type of athlete because he was wearing a letter jacket. "Probably football," I thought. He looked beefy enough to be a safety or linebacker. My wife gestured for him to sit down across from me, then took a seat next to him. I just looked at the two of them, kinda bemused, wondering what the fuck was going on here?
"Hi, honey!" my wife said, seemingly full of cheer. When I didn't say anything, she continued, "This is Steve, he goes to A&M and plays football for them. Marcy introduced us!"
I still didn't say anything, but I got a cold feeling in my gut as I started piling up the locks and putting them in the towel for storage. Marcy has been my wife's best friend from high school on, and she is an unmitigated whore. I've pushed and pushed to split them up, but until about a year ago I had come up short. Long story short, Marcy was married briefly, but when her husband wouldn't go along with swapping and an open marriage, she took him to the cleaners and got a divorce. My wife and I had a horrible fight after that, took us almost a year to get over, because I told her that her friend was a useless round-heeled slut. My wife finally agreed to stop talking to her and hanging out with her, although it seems now that was a lie.
"Well, dear, apparently you lied to me about not being friends with Marcy any longer, so now I have to wonder exactly what you are up to this fine evening?"
I guess that wasn't part of whatever planned dialog she had put together, because it took her a moment to recover. I went and grabbed another beer while she had a think or two, spinning the cap off with my thumb and dropping back into my chair.
