TOO PRETTY: A Bo Fexler Story - CLAIR DICKSON
I found my target at the bar working on a tall glass of beer. By the time I made nice with the bartender and told her my serving preferences, my target was nearly done with his drink.
I waited a few more minutes before I moved in to strike. Like any successful predator I know how important timing is. He was nearly done with his second drink when I greeted him.
He looked at me then just nodded. Apparently the six feet of lanky blond chick wasn’t that interesting to him. Even with a tight shirt and low-rise pants.
“Rough day?” I asked with a flirty cock of the head.
He shrugged and finished his drink. I played with my empty glass, but he paid it no attention. He wasn’t rather plain looking—not ugly, but certainly far from hunky.
“So, did you see the big upset in the Michigan-Ohio game?”
He looked at me again—taking a longer look this time. Then he shook his head and turned back to his drink. Maybe he liked brunettes. Maybe he liked his girls a little chunkier. I already knew he wasn’t gay.
“Bo Fexler.” I offered him a hand to shake, though I might have held out a steak knife from the look on his face.
“Sorry. You’ve got the wrong guy.”
I laughed. “No, no. I’m Bo. And you are?”
“What do you want from me?”
Oh, this had taken an ugly turn. “Well, I was hoping to take you home, but I don’t know anymore. What is your problem, anyway?”
“This has got something to with Jaimie, right?”
I thought about asking “Who?” even though I knew Jaimie was his psycho ex who was trying to rope any one of a half dozen guys into paying child support for a baby conceived during a three-day weekend of drinking and partying. Jack was one of the better prospects, but that wasn’t saying much.
He shook his head. “My ex. The bitch who put you up to this.”
“Up to what?”
“When you next see her, I’ve got a message for you to give her.” And he back-handed me hard enough to topple me off the bar stool. A trio of guys from a nearby table jumped to my rescue. I let one help me up. Another gave Jack a couple rough shoves on his way to the door.
The third didn’t have anything more to do than ask if I was okay. But, given that the pretty blond was in trouble, he had to do something to get her attention and possible good favor.
The man who helped me up asked, “What was that all about?”
The second helpfully supplied, “Ex boyfriend?”
And the third offered to buy me a drink.
“No. His girlfriend hired me to prove that he slept with her best friend when they were all drunk. Except, from what I hear, he can’t perform when drunk.” I held out my business card.
“How do you prove that?”
I smiled. “By getting him drunk and taking him home. Then filming what comes next.”
The three stared in shock.
“But— But he didn’t go for it?” I was surprised none of them offered to take his place.
“Apparently I was too pretty for a guy like him. I aroused suspicion instead of excitement.”
BIO: More than 50 Bo Fexler stories have appeared in over 17 different publications, including Out of the Gutter, Yellow Mama, and Mysterical-E. Visit BO FEXLER for links and more. She writes when she’s not being educated by her adult high school completion students... and sometimes because of it.
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