Meeting with the Mistress

Meeting with the Mistress

Anthony checked his watch as he stood on the sidewalk. Blurs of light from the headlights passed by him while he waited. Carla, where the fuck are you? Dank and musty air filled his nostrils from a worn, partially melted trash can near Ignitio’s Pizzeria, their usual meet up spot. Each minute after their scheduled time that passed made him more anxious. Fuck this, he thought, Chelsea will be home from work soon, I gotta get back home. Gritting his teeth, he turned to head home, regretting the fact that he would not be able to see Carla his brown haired mistress.

“Hey,” came a voice from behind him.

“I thought you were gonna stand me up.” Just as he turned around, he met her gaze. Kind, warm and trusting eyes met his, he couldn’t resist Carla.

“Let me guess,” she replied, “you were going to go back to that boring ass Chelsea huh?”

“Meaning my wife? Not just some boring ass female ya know, a female that could clean me out financially.”

“Oh,” she replied with an eyebrow slightly raised. “Papi, you don’t have to worry about her anymore.”

Quizzically; he looked at her face. Reality sunk in as a multitude of possibilities and scenarios buzzed around his head. “Soo why would I not have to worry?”

“This morning after you went to work, I went to your house. Usually, she starts the car and lets it warm up right?”

Visions of his wife’s daily routines entered Anthony’s head, he grew anxious.

“Well,” she continued, “I remember you said she’s scared of people so I waited until she came outside and ran up to her while she when she walked to the car, what’s it called? Xena-Xeno…”

“Xenophobia.”

“Yeah, so she stumbled back in the driveway and hit her head on the stoop, I didn’t mean for it to happen that way but it did! Zero chance papi! Zero chance that you and me will be caught, it looks just like a simple...accident.”

(This was written as a challenge to begin each sentence with the letters of the Alphabet from A-Z)