Stashed in Arizona
She thinks she can get rid of me simply by leaving town, figuring I’m too tied to the streets of Los Angeles to ever come after her.
It isn’t the new boyfriend that pisses me off so much -- though that hurts, too.
Women have left me before, thinking me too mean or ugly or pathetic.
It’s the money and the drugs.
She takes my property as if we are married, and has a right to half the proceeds, when I gave her everything she has, and can take it back whenever I want.
Waking to the heat of the Phoenix motel makes me forget for a moment why I came, my eyes opening just as the sharp light creeps across the ceiling of my room.
It is hot even at dawn in this damn place.
I think I’m already dead and God has sent me to Arizona instead of hell figuring I deserved a worse punishment.
I keep thinking I need a shower, though the still moist towel on the back of the car near me testifies to several I took during the night just to cool off.
This is my second day here, sweating it out in this room, too cautious to make a move out of the room for fear the love couple across the court might pop out at that moment and see me, and scoot.
I reached for my binoculars, my fingers bumping the butt of my Oozie instead.
I want to shoot them the minute I see them, but I know I can’t.
My move has to be a smooth move. I have to ooze out of my door the moment they make for their car, and stick the muzzle of my gun under his ear, telling them both to get back into the room where they undoubtedly have stashed the drugs.
I already searched the car.
Once I have the cash back and the drugs, then I’ll kill them. Him quick. He’s the innocent fool who fell for a cheap peace of ass. Her slowly, painfully, making her suffer for dragging me out of LA.
Damn bitches. When will they ever learn?
I wonder where I’ll stash the bodies this time?