Cupid’s Bullets: South

My friends had told me they’d seen her in Cupid’s. I didn’t have to see it for myself, I knew what her gun was loaded with. And I wasn’t as naïve as West to sit around waiting for her to surprise me. I kept my Glock on me at all times and waited for that day I knew would come.

And come it did.

But she was slicker than West’s girl. No undercover goons. No open street showdown. She had too much class for that.

“I think you know why we’re here,” she said to me from across the table. Her legs were crossed and both her hands were in her lap, covering the gun both of us knew was there.

“And I think you know how this is gonna end,” I replied, hand inside my jacket. There was no one else inside the restaurant. Even the waiter had been gone for the past ten minutes—taking care of an extra long order she herself had requested.

“I do,” she replied. And like a cat snatching a mouse, her gun was out of her lap and she shot her feelings at me.

But I’d seen it coming. I dropped backwards out of the chair, rolling onto the floor, then slipped behind the nearest table, flipping it over for cover.

We went shot for shot around the restaurant, rolling under chairs, shooting down glass pitchers, pictures, and littering the walls with holes. Until finally, I slipped in behind her and pinned my barrel to the back of her head.

“That’s enough,” I told her.

She put her hands up in surrender and slowly turned and faced me.

“It’s not happening,” I said.

“But what about that sniper?”

My heart stopped. “What?”

Her eyes moved to my shirt and when I looked down, I saw a red dot dancing around my chest. I looked out the window and a sniper waved at me from the rooftop across the street.

“Don’t worry,” she said to me. “He won’t shoot unless I tell him to.”

I looked at her and took a breath. She was good.

“We can stay friends. I’m cool with that.”

“Good move,” I nodded to her. “Good move.”

She grinned. “You know what else? You’re out of bullets.”

I pulled the trigger and was rewarded with an empty click.

“So truth be told,” she said, taking a step back. “You couldn’t shoot me if you wanted to.”

And with that, she turned and walked out the door. I stood there with my jaw hanging open. She was good. Real good.

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