Before He Cheats

“Fucking bastard.” I growl, digging my key into the side of Jimmy’s souped up suburban, stepping back when I’m finished making a long, very noticeable scratch in the one pristine black paintjob. I smirk at my handiwork, proud of myself. I grab the key to the suburban that I stole out of Jimmy’s apartment and unlock the doors to the 4 Wheel Drive vehicle, and I almost feel sorry for the poor bastard. After I get through with his precious baby he’s not going to recognize it.

I take the knife out of my pocket and flip it open, admiring the recently sharpened silver blade. I lick over my lips, before I get to work on the driver’s seat in his car. I start carving an L, the first letter in my name. It takes a lot more work than you would think to carve your name into a leather seat, and by the time I’ve finished carving my entire name there is sweat forming on my brow.

I pocket Jimmy’s keys, and get out of the suburban before I pick up the Louisville Slugger I ‘borrowed’ from Jimmy’s roommate. I take a moment to get a feel for the wooden baseball bat, weighing it in my hands. The bat is perfect for the job I have planned for it. I raise the bat and take it to the headlight closest to me, smashing it to pieces. I let out a dark laugh, and take two steps before I give the other headlight the same treatment.

I toss the bat aside, not caring if it ever gets back to its original owner. I take my knife back out of my pocket, and walk around the suburban making a stop at every tire so I can slash a hole in it, ruining the expensive street tires. When I take a step back and look at the job I’ve been planning for the past few days a satisfied smirk makes its way onto my face.

“Maybe next time he’ll think next time before he cheats.” I muse. I grab my previously discarded leather jacket and put it on over my black tank top. I start the walk out of the underground parking garage, heading for the bar I know that Jimmy is at right now.

I make it to the level of the Los Angeles street above the parking garage Jimmy parked his suburban in, and head towards the bar. The streets are flooded with people, typical Los Angeles on a Friday night. While I elbow my way through some of the people I can’t help but think about what Jimmy might be doing.

Right now he's probably slow dancing with a bleached-blond tramp, and she's probably getting frisky. I think bitterly to myself, he’s always loved blondes. My hair is as dark as the pits of hell, maybe that’s why he decided to cheat on me. Because he missed the ditsy blondes he used to date.

A guy runs into my shoulder, and I shove him out of my way. “Watch out, asshole!” I yell, andhe just looks over his shoulder and flips me the bird. I shake my head, fucking prick. I scan the crowd as I walk, looking for any familiar faces. I’ve been around the block a few times, so it wouldn’t surprise me if I saw someone I knew. I see a guy walk by wearing a shirt advertising my favorite beverage; Jack Daniels.

Right now, he's probably buying her some fruity little drink. ‘Cause she can't shoot whiskey. I shake my head, fucking fruity ass fru fru drinks. They remind me of my mother, the woman who drank Cosmopolitans and Strawberry Daiquiris until she couldn’t remember her own name. I’m sure Jimmy would like a girl that can’t hold her liquor though, he can get into her pants faster —which is what he always wants, he’s got an insatiable sex drive.

In the distance I see the sign for the bar I’m headed to, the bar I met Jimmy in while I was playing a game of pool against one of his buddies. Right now, he's probably up behind her with a pool stick showing her how to shoot a combo. He never got to teach me how to shoot a combo, I already fucking knew.

A girl walks by me and I glance at her, doing a double take. She’s wearing an Avenged Sevenfold tank top, which only angers me more. I don’t care if I ever hear the words ‘Avenged Sevenfold’ again, because they’re fucking drummer is a dick.

As I draw closer to my destination, I faintly remember the night Jimmy got me to sing karaoke—on our second date. The memory makes me snort in distaste Right now, she's probably up singing some white-trash version of Shania karaoke .

The memory of the second date I had with Jimmy brings on another, the night he tried to get me drunk. But he had no idea I could hold my liquor just as well as he could, if not better. I picture the girl he’s with in my head, probably a lightweight wearing a denim mini skirt and a pair of stilettos. Right now, she's probably saying, "I'm drunk" And he's a thinking that he's gonna get lucky. After I’m done with him I hope he never ‘gets lucky’ again.

I make it to the bar, the sign above the front entrance flickering as if it’s going to burn out. I walk inside, ignoring the bouncer at the door when he asks for my I.D. My eyes scan the bar looking for the tall, blue-eyed man. I spot him leaning against the dingy brick wall on the far side of the bar, his hands roaming all over the bleach blonde girl in his arms. I almost laugh at how similar she is to the woman I pictured in my head. I walk across the bar straight towards them, shoving my way through the people in my way, not caring enough to listen to their slurred insults towards me.

When I am a few feet away from Jimmy and his tramp, he turns his head to kiss her neck and his eyes land on me. “Leigha…” He whispers. I just shake my head and a smirk tugs at my lips. I spot a Mojito on the table next to them and take his keys out of my pocket. I drop them into the Mojito and give Jimmy a parting glare, and as I turn around I see him take the keys out of the drink and shove the girl away from him with a scowl on his face.

I walk out of the bar, and pull out my cell phone to call my best friend.

After my best friend picks me up, we head back to her apartment. She parks her car in her designated parking spot and while we walk towards the building she notices my mood. “What’s up with you?” She questions. “I’ll tell you when we get into your apartment.” I respond with a smirk.

We start climbing the stairs to the fifth floor of Mickey’s apartment building and when she unlocks the door I walk inside, peeling off my leather jacket and tossing it onto her couch. “You want a drink before you tell me what you’re so smug about?” She asks, and I nod. “Whiskey.” I respond, not caring what kind it is.

Mickey sits down on the couch next to me a few minutes later, handing me a glass with a liquid that is a familiar shade of amber in it. I take a drink of it and the familiar burning sensation coats my throat. “Jack Daniels, you know me so well.” I say chuckling.

Mickey nods, taking a drink of the beer in her hand, then clearing her throat. “So tell me, what were you doing tonight that required me to pick you up in front of a fucking grungy bar?” She presses, and I sigh. “Well you know Jimmy, right?” I ask, and she nods. “Well I had this feeling he was cheating on me, and it turned out to be right.” I explain, and Mickey’s jaw drops. “Oh my God no! He seemed so nice!” She exclaims, sounding devastated.

“Yeah he did, but don’t worry. I took care of him.” I respond, and Mickey raises a perfect eyebrow. “You didn’t kill him right?” She asks, making sure I haven’t totally lost it. “Of course not! But let’s just say I might have saved a little trouble for the next girl, ‘cause the next time that he cheats it won’t be on me.” I respond, and her eyes widen. “What’d you do?” She asks.

“I dug my key into the side of his pretty little souped-up 4 wheel drive…and carved my name into his leather seat. I took a Louisville slugger to both head lights and slashed a hole in all 4 tires. So maybe, just maybe, next time he’ll think before he cheats.” I respond.

Mickey shakes her head, laughs escaping from her throat.

“Leigha…you’re crazy.” She says, and I shrug.

“And that bastard has learned his lesson. You don’t cheat on Leigha without paying a price.”