A Twist Of Noir 671 - Kelly Whitley

A WARM RECEPTION - KELLY WHITLEY

Bart and Lana walked into the Four Seasons Hotel. In the Aspen Room, the reception for the new Mr. and Mrs. Blake Potowski was well underway. Guests packed the ballroom, laughing, talking, and dancing. A long table against one wall held a cornucopia of wedding gifts ranging from large boxes festooned with ribbons to demure envelopes containing monetary gifts.

Lana froze in the doorway and gripped Bart’s sleeve. “I think we might be underdressed. Everyone here is decked out for black tie. We look like we don’t belong.”

Bart clamped his hand around her arm and steered her through the doorway. “You look fine.”

“I can’t afford a new dress for every wedding,” she whispered. “What if somebody’s seen this dress before?”

“A little black dress doesn’t stand out. This is the last time, I swear.”

“That’s what you said last time.”

“Get in line for refreshments,” he growled.

The respective queues for cocktails and cake were short, and they zipped through the lines.

As they carried their food and drinks to one of the empty tables flanking the dance floor, the best man intercepted them. “Didn’t I see you guys at the Zucker wedding last fall?”

Bart spoke up. “No, I don’t think we’ve met.” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Gus Sinclair, and this is my wife Greta.”

The best man narrowed his eyes as held Bart’s gaze and shook his hand. “Joe Potowski, brother of the groom. Which side of the family are you with?”

Lana swallowed and set her food and drink on the table. “The bride’s side. I went to college with Lucinda.”

The two men sized each other up as a waltz flowed from the DJ’s turntable. The happy couple cuddled and kissed on the dance floor behind them.

After an eternity of seconds, Joe broke the silence. “Enjoy yourselves. I’ll see you later.” With a nod, he ambled off toward the wedding party’s table.

Lana watched as Joe bent and spoke to another groomsman, and then both men stared across the room at Bart. “I think he knows, Bart. Let’s... let’s just go.”

“Sit down and eat.”

“We could get arrested—”

“Do what I say, and it’ll all be fine,” he said through his teeth.

Lana consumed her cake and punch with shaking hands. “They’re still watching us, Bart. I want to go.”

“Go check out the gift table,” Bart murmured.

Lana glanced across the room at the newlyweds, then at the best man. “This is so wrong. Every time your gambling gets you in trouble, you drag me off to a wedding. You can pay off your debts some other way.”

“No, I can’t. I’m out of time.”

“Bart—”

“Check the table. Now.”

Lana recognized the implied threat in the words, and shuddered at the thought of Bart’s uncontrolled rage. Reluctantly she strolled along the gift table while he collected their coats and tipped the checker.

In the lobby, Bart pulled her aside. “Did you get ’em?”

She gave him a withering glance and handed him a fat envelope. “Yeah. Another gambling debt paid off courtesy of newlyweds. I’m going to the ladies’ room.”

“Be out here in ten minutes or I’ll leave without you.” Bart turned for the door.

Lana checked the ladies’ room, then the lounge area of the restroom. She pulled out her phone and made the call. Then she pulled out the tote bag she’d stowed behind the lounge’s couch earlier that day, and made her preparations. Fifteen minutes later, she peeked out of the ladies’ room. In the lobby, a police officer led Bart away in handcuffs as Joe Potowski and the other groomsman watched.

Lana smoothed her new slacks and trench coat, then tied a scarf over the blond wig and patted her purse. Enough to start a new life in Mexico, away from Bart and the loan sharks he still owed from the last ill-fated bet. As soon as she got situated, she’d start paying back all those newlyweds.

She’d already settled up with Bart.

BIO: Kelly has been writing for years, but is new to the art form of flash-- the shorter, the better.

A Twist Of Noir 654 - Kelly Whitley

THE OTHER WOMAN - KELLY WHITLEY

Mitzi sat in her bra and panties on the bed, blowing smoke rings as she absently toyed with the necktie around her neck.

Richard walked out of the bathroom in a cloud of wilting steam, a thin towel wrapped around his hips. “Did you want a turn at the shower?”

Mitzi flicked her gaze in his direction and exhaled, bouncing the red stiletto on her left foot. “No.”

He grabbed his boxers off the floor, then turned his back and worked them on beneath the towel.

“Too shy to dress in front of me? You weren’t shy fifteen minutes ago.”

Tension shimmered in the room. Richard grimaced. “You seem pissed off.”

She tapped ash into a Styrofoam cup half-full of coffee. “Why would I be pissed off? Because you chose this scuzzy motel room? Because you’re leaving already? Because you’ll be with her tonight instead of me?”

“See? The anger is radiating off you.” He let the towel drop and yanked on his pants, then pushed his arms into his shirt as it stuck to his damp skin.

“When are you going to leave her, Rich?” Mitzi leaned back on her elbow and blew smoke at the yellowed ceiling.

The bedsprings squeaked as Richard sat down on the mattress and put on his socks, then hunted under the faded bedspread for his shoes. “Don’t do this now.”

She took one last drag off the cigarette and dropped it into the cup; the butt hissed as it hit the coffee. “Then when should I do it?”

He leaned his forearms on his thighs and folded his hands. “Mitz—”

“Don’t ‘Mitz’ me,” she said, stretching out on the bed propping her head on one hand and pulling the tie from around her neck with the other.

With a groan, Richard stood and turned away as he buttoned his shirt. “You know I can’t stay.”

Mitzi tucked the necktie in her purse. “Well, I can’t do this anymore.” She rocked off the bed and snatched her dress off the desk and stepped into the red satin, zipping up the back herself.

“I love you, but I can’t leave her.” He shoved his shirttails into his pants and swung his jacket over his shoulder.

She snorted. “You would leave her if you loved me.”

Richard exhaled loudly. “She’s got the house, the business, everything. I leave, I lose it all. You know this.”

Mitzi picked up her purse. “If they’re so damned important, find a way to keep them and get rid of her.”

He opened the door to the humid night. The red neon blinked in the parking lot.

“It’s not that simple—”

“It is that simple, Rich. It is that simple. There are a million ways. Accidents happen all the time.” She pushed past him.

Richard stared and shook his head. “I can’t. She’s my—”

Mitzi whirled around. “Your priority? Over me?”

Richard snagged her around the waist. “No. No, she’s not. I’ll think of something.” He leaned in, but she twisted to avoid his kiss. He sighed in defeat. “See you next week.”

Mitzi extricated herself. “Get your priorities straight, and then we’ll see.”

*

The evening heat rose up from the sidewalk as Mitzi approached the house. She looked up and down the street, then knocked.

A woman answered the door. “Yes?”

“Hello. I’m Mitzi. A friend of Richard’s from the office. Is he home?”

The woman pulled the door open wide. “Oh. He hadn’t mentioned a visitor.”

“He wasn’t expecting me. I have a project I’m finishing for him, and thought I’d stop by.”

“Would you like to come in and have a glass of tea while you wait? Richard should be home anytime now.” She turned and walked into the house.

“Oh, that’s okay. I’m actually here to see you.” Mitzi pulled the necktie out of her purse and looped it around the neck of Richard’s mother as the door closed behind them.

BIO: Kelly has been writing for years, but is new to the art form of flash-- the shorter, the better.

A Twist Of Noir 569 - Kelly Whitley

THE BOY SCOUT AND THE BITCH - KELLY WHITLEY

She met him through a mutual friend, and he promised to call her the next day. Scout’s honor.

She called him a week later, and dated him for months.

She accepted his marriage proposal, and he promised to be faithful. Scout’s honor.

She met his new secretary, and he started working late.

She found out about the affair, and he promised never to do it again. Scout’s honor.

She agreed to meet him at the restaurant for their anniversary, and he never showed.

She threatened to leave him, and he swore he couldn’t live without her. Scout’s honor.

She followed him on his next out-of-town business meeting, and discovered it took place at a Holiday Inn.

She told the police she’d been home with a mutual friend and couldn’t have killed him with his own gun. Scout’s honor.

BIO: Kelly has been writing for years, but is new to the art form of flash-- the shorter, the better.

A Twist Of Noir 554 - Kelly Whitley

REVERSAL OF FORTUNE - KELLY WHITLEY

“The divorce is off.”

Portia narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean, ‘the divorce is off?’”

Linus paced around the penthouse. “My attorney called. Marty said she escalated the terms of the will. I have to be married for over a year and still be married on her eightieth birthday, or I can’t inherit. You can’t tell her we’re considering filing for divorce.”

“We have filed for divorce.” Portia bounced her foot up and down.

“A reversible mistake.”

“The marriage was reversible. Divorce is permanent. Per-ma-nent, Linus. You’re going to have to improvise.”

“Improvise? How am I supposed to improvise being married?”

Portia studied her fingernails. “Then improvise being divorced, because that’s the reality.”

“You have to help me, Portia.”

Portia strolled to the window and looked out at the city lights. “Why should I lie for you?”

Linus whirled around and pointed his finger at her. “Money. I’ll pay you. A million dollars.”

Portia snorted. “Yeah, right. You don’t have that kind of money.”

“I will. If I fulfill the terms of the will, I’ll inherit ten million on her eightieth birthday.”

Portia smiled at her reflection in the window. “And you’d pay me to go with you to this birthday party and pretend to be married?”

Linus came up behind her and kissed the side of her neck. “Yes.”

“Mmm. Two million dollars.”

Linus’s lips missed a beat, then resumed nuzzling. “Two million. Agreed.”

Portia gathered up her purse and headed for the front of the penthouse they’d once shared. “It seems our divorce was reversible after all.”

Linus blew out a breath and held open the door for her. “It appears so. I’ll pick you up for the party on Saturday.”

“Don’t forget my check. Tootle loo!” Portia smiled sweetly and got in the elevator. On the way down, she flipped open her cell phone. “Marty? He went for it. I’m on my way down. Go ahead.”

In the underground parking lot, she exited the elevator and waited for Linus’s attorney in her car. Five minutes later, Marty slid behind the wheel. He tucked the gun and the silencer under the seat. Portia raised an eyebrow, and he nodded.

“You’ll inherit. Too bad Linus didn’t know about the untimely death clause in the will.” Marty kissed her and started the car.

As they drove away, the elevator opened behind them. Linus staggered out, bleeding from the gunshot wound in his belly. He raised the remote and pointed it at the retreating car. As the explosion knocked him back against the concrete, he grinned. “Too bad you didn’t know about the murder of spouse clause, bitch.”

BIO: Kelly has been writing for years, but is new to the art form of flash -- the shorter, the better.