Written In Blood

If they had known what we’d done, Holly kept reminding herself, they’d never let us do this. They’d never even let us be partners.

She stood on the side of the drive watching as the fake movers wheeled “their” furniture up to the decoy house. All of it purchased on the American taxpayer’s dime. It amazed her that the government used such elaborate schemes to catch offenders.

Lewis stood beside her, alternating between a Lucky Strike and an ice cream cone. He only spoke in vowels as he tried to stave off a brain freeze, “Mm, you really should try this, it was nice of the HOA to bring it by.”

“Not hungry,” she didn’t bother to look at him. “Not sure if you noticed, hon, but it’s frigid out here.”

“It’s not that cold,” he took another quick lick. “I couldn’t have done this at home without getting bitched at,” now he was taking a drag on the cigarette.

Holly spoke in a diminished tone, “What the Hell is wrong with you, we’re supposed to be the married couple…”

Lewis glanced up and down the street, “There’s no one out here,” Lewis said, “I know you’re looking for any excuse to light that fuse on your tampon and go rocketing into some lecture.” He started up the driveway towards the garage door following behind two movers carrying an entertainment center.

She clenched her teeth, biting back anything she might say that would be out of character. Just before he entered the house she asked, “Where are you going?”

“Jacuzzi.”

“Don’t smoke that in the house,” she yelled.

The house was a small modern thing, pressed between a pair of modest two stories. Even with real estate market being in turmoil, neighborhoods like this were still flourishing all around Houston. It came as no surprise that not everyone living in them was a law abiding citizen.

Holly took a moment to regain her composure after Lewis left. She stood with her slender arms clutched around her frame in the breezy winter air admiring what would be “their” house for the next few weeks.

“Just moving in?” a shrill voice cut the air behind Holly after a few minutes. She whirled around to see a scrawny young lady in a bright red sun dress. It’s too fucking cold for sun dresses.

Holly forced a prim smile, “Oh, hello.”

The woman scratched her bushel of frizz, “You must be Carol Benedict.

“Heh, yeah,” Holly said. The sound of her pseudonym caught her off guard. “And you are?”

“Annemarie Thyne,” she said. “It’s one word,” she added tilting her head to the side as she clasped Holly’s hand.

“Huh?” Holly played the part of the unassuming housewife well, even if she wasn’t playing.

“Annemarie is one word,” she said

“Oh,” Holly laughed. “Sorry, it’s just—I’m utterly shattered.” She drew her arms about herself again, “Haven’t had good sleep in a while.”

“I see, I see—well I just stopped by to welcome you to the neighborhood,” she brought her hands together at the conclusion of her sentence. “I live right over there,” Annemarie pointed to a house on the opposite side of the street at the corner. “If you have any questions or need anything, just come over!”

Holly nodded, “Will do.”

A moment later Holly watched as she returned across the street to her own home. Her husband came out to get the mail. They kissed on the front lawn. It made Holly cringe, not in disgust. But it caused desires to well within her.

Holly had to go inside.

She slipped her heels off inside of the door. The marble tile was cold against her feet and she rushed for the carpet. The spectral aroma of roasted tobacco dominated the air. I told him to stop smoking those Goddamn things in here.

The movers were working upstairs, but she could hear a toilet flush in the bedroom. Holly turned, walking the short hall with her hands clenched at her sides, “Lewis!” she said.

She entered the room to find him shirtless and flicking his cigarette back into the toilet.

“Lewis!”

“It’s Dan.”

“We’ve got to lay out some ground rules,” she said.

“Like?”

Holly glanced into the bathroom, “You’ve left the seat up, balled your knickers up on the floor, and tossed your cigarette in the loo after flushing…”

“Wow, we’re already doing this?” he brushed past her.

“Did you wash your hands?” she asked.

He placed his phone and wallet in a neat stack atop the shelf and began fiddling with the string of his swim trunks. “I squat, like a girl.”

Holly sighed, “Why are you acting like this?”

“I talked to the SAC and I protested this case,” Lewis said. “I’m not thrilled about this.”

“Why?”

“We’re expected to show affection in public,” Lewis said. He slammed the bedroom door, “And we already fucked.”

“That wasn’t our fault,” she shifted her eyes to escape his gaze. “We were shot up with narcotics and—“

“This was a bad idea.”

“It’s just a case,” Holly said, “And we can work it like any other.” He leaned against the wall and his muscles flexed. She couldn’t admit it, but right then she wished he’d been wearing a shirt.

He rifled through his pockets. “If we fuck this up, it could get us both killed,” he said. “Can’t just carry my gun like normal.”

“I know,” Holly said, “but I’m keeping a cool head, so it’s not like you can’t.” Liar. She tried not to picture his hands on her hips and prayed he didn’t touch her.

For a moment he stared at her. Then he opened the door. That bedroom door was their curtain going up.

“I’m going to try out the hot tub, Honey. You want to come?”

Holly exhaled, “I better start dinner. We’ll be eating take-out if I don’t get the kitchenware unpacked.”

“Want any help?” he paused at the end of the short hall.

She smiled, a faux, forced smile, “I want you out of my hair,” her tone was playful. “Go relax.” When he was gone from sight she walked into the bathroom and shut the door, locking it behind her. She took a seat on the edge of the tub and rested her head in her hands.

…I’m keeping a cool head, so it’s not like you can’t.

It would actually be easier for him. He was getting a divorce. He’d been with a woman on at least a regular basis. Before him, Holly hadn’t touched a man in two years. Now she was trapped with the only man she could think about and the only one she couldn’t have. I’m so, so fucked.