“They probably think I’m dead”, DJ thought to himself.
Lord knows he was close to dead. He hadn’t eaten in days. It was freezing. There he was abandoned and alone on the side of the parkway.
“Aniya probably thinks I’m dead. Dumb ass. You have to do more than stab me to kill me.”
The truth was, she did do more than that! She lunged towards him like a panther and she bit his neck. When he pried her off of him, she grabbed a Heineken bottle and broke it. She then thrusted it into his back. When he fell to the floor she sealed the deal by hitting him in the head with a table lamp. She then dumped him in the trunk of the same automobile he tried to downplay.
Next thing he knew, he was in the damn bushes shivering and bleeding.
In his opinion she overreacted. Typical angry black woman. She asked one question and didn’t wait for the answer. She seemingly wasn’t angry about his sexual indiscretions. She just kept menacingly looking at him and screaming crap about betrayal.
He knew one day it would come to this. He wanted to get caught. The marriage wasn’t what he thought it would be. Those women sliding up and down the metal poles and the human poles were so enticing. These were the women in videos, turning heads on beaches, adorned in brands and labels and oils. The women at “Biddies” were top quality. They looked like stallions. The club was laced in European hair and high round backsides. Perfume and exotic lubricants lingered in the air. It was a “classy club.” When he found Aniya in his office working out her “issues”, it was a sign. He was an admirer of hers for years. He was one of the guidance counselors in the high school she attended but how different he looked then. He wasn’t sexy then. Besides, sleeping with a student was taboo and illegal but mostly taboo.
Aniya was his meal ticket. He was tired of superiors breathing down his neck. He started a manuscript. Encapsulated in it’s pages were Aniya’s confidential and interesting life. The men she slept with. The deals she made. The secrets she only told him. The inner workings of that put*$ y paradise men escaped to. He had a book deal all set up and a guarantee with a billion dollar publisher. He knew it would sell. The climax was just so good. Most importantly he knew she would do almost anything to ensure aliases were used.
He didn’t think she would try to kill him. Then again, if you changed your identity to run away from your past…
If your past was still looking for you…
If you had everything to lose…
DJ rose to his feet. His body was so numb he didn’t even realize what he was dressed in. He lifted the large corduroy dress and began to limp to the service road. Cars honked their horns as they passed by laughing. Etched deliberately in the back of the vintage Bear bright yellow bubble jacket was the word “Trifling.”
He would sort things out at the hospital and he would surprise his wife with a phone call.
**Day 9 of the 30 day writing challenge. Comment. Like. Share.