Cheating In The Blue Glow
It was Friday and just past midnight when the blue glow of the flashing club lights hit Travis Marshall’s thirty-year old eyes like nothing significant. He was entering Club Breeze, and immediately upon stepping through the door was in a world of air conditioned cool, the sweltering night time heat of a midsummer Houston forgotten like yesterday’s news. Men in suits and ladies gyrating in tight dresses were at his left and right, and he had to skirt by each. He shoved one woman away with his right hand. Pointed a finger and told her to go slut around with someone else. Tonight, he had to find his wife.
Club Breeze had a history, and to act like he didn’t know the kind of dirt that went on here was as bad as being the problem itself. This is where is wife had gone rogue. This was the place.
The smoke of cigarettes, marijuana, and Swisher Sweets hit his nose like black smoke from a fire, and he rubbed at it hastily with the back of his hand. There was a sea of people in here. He could smell the perfume and cologne of every woman and man he passed and it made a kind of strange mix. He reached out and pushed another girl aside. Pointed the same finger as he did at the other. Oh, these girls were a bunch of sluts tonight.
Travis Marshall’s shoulder was clutched from behind, and big hairy fingers, the middle one wearing a gold ring, pressed into his skin. Travis gripped, twisted, and snapped the man’s wrist like wishbone. Pivoted back at him, cracked him square in the jaw with a straight left, and felt the teeth break under his fist. Travis buried his foot in the man’s considerable belly and the man woofed out air as he was knocked back into a crowd of people. A lady’s scream hit the air like gun smoke. Travis took one long stride in her direction, cocked his head back and flung it forward at her. It was his battering ram. His skull smashed into her nose like a wrecking ball against worn concrete. There was a crunch like stepping on loose gravel, a choked sound, and a stream a blood that spilled out from her nose like water. The surrounding crowd, all blue under the glow of the strobe lights sidestepped as the lady flew back, arms in front of her, her white dress billowing out as if a heavy wind gusted behind her. She smashed into a table, sending up glasses, napkins, forks, spoons, and plates. It was quite a sight. Everything seemed to hang suspended in midair for a moment; everything glinting blue as if they existed in some type of cartoon, instead of the real world. Everything crashed to the floor and sent shards of glass, water and pieces of silverware rushing out in a circular wave. Guests hopped out of the way.
“Mrs. Kimberly likes to cheat now, doesn’t she!”
Nothing but the beat of bass-heavy hip-hop music blared from the comically massive speakers flanking the DJ booth. The DJ stood still, just a gaping face with large headphones around his neck.
Travis’s eyes touched on everything in this world of blue. A fat woman wearing a black dress nearly high enough to show pubic hair. Another chick as high as a rocket, her eyes bugging like a 3D movie. From what Travis saw it looked like her brain had short circuited. Like if he reached out he could push her over with just a pound of pressure from his pinky finger. So many people, all back by the walls now, having created a generous circle of space. It would have to be done here.
“Kimberly! Come on girl! Get your ass out here and let’s get this over with!”
A moment passed. Then there was a sigh. “Babe! You know that this isn’t right! Why are you even here?”
“Babe…I’ll only tell you once! Make me come out and I’m going to fucking kill you!”
Travis smiled. He unbuttoned one of the cuffs on his black dress shirt. Nodded. “Yeah...okay. Well we’ll see.”
Travis could tell even through the music that the voice was coming from the left corner of the room. From a hall leading to the men’s and women’s restrooms.
At first Kimberly appeared as just an outline in the hall. But what Travis loved about her figure was already on display. Curves for days. Just the right height. But it was only a tease, and he was already feeling himself grow anxious and tense, anticipating the oncoming battle with such an attractive woman. His woman. Kimberly came into the light, this beautiful brown skinned female, just a shade lighter than Travis. If he didn’t intend to drag her across the room and use her head to mop up the broken glass, he may have forgiven her.
“Travis, you’re not innocent in all this you know?”
“My innocence Kim, has nothing to do with this.”
Kim was removing her heels though. She seemed ready. Travis gave an approving nod, and waited as she approached, working on the other sleeve of his shirt. The mu sic had stopped. The crowd remained. Travis was grateful they that were in a club as dim as this, half of him not so eager to see his wife’s face wrecked by his knuckles. Because that was just what he was about to do, bury his fists in her flesh and wreck her face.
The two stood alone in the circle, in and out of the glare of the rotating blue lights from above. To Travis Kimberly looked as gorgeous as ever. There she stood, in black dress that was sexy, but not too revealing. Her hair down to her shoulders.
She tied it back with a scrunchy. Told him again that she was going to have to kill him if he went through with this.
“I’m glad you’re saying that,” he told her, grinning. “Because in this, you’re going to have to give it everything you’ve got. Slap, kick, punch, headbutt. Don’t give a shit. Whatever you think is necessary to deal with me. Because sweetie-pie, I’m sure as fuck not taking it easy on you.”
“You’re the real cheater, you know? I never fucked anybody.”
“Yeah, but you managed to fuck me. And I don’t mean in the good way. Now—”
Kimberly charged at him, her war face on and screaming. Travis was swift. He bent down just slightly, tucked his fist in, and threw the weight of his body into a short, Mike Tyson like uppercut. It connected, and Travis could hear her teeth clack as Kimberly was knocked up and back like something out of street fighter. She landed in the mess. Scattering things even more than they’d been scattered before. A fully intact drinking glass spun counterclockwise on floor to her left. She lay sprawled out, her eyes up toward the ceiling, clearly in a daze. Deep breaths ran through her like a pregnant woman, her chest slowly rising and falling with each one.
It was quiet for a while. Couldn’t even hear the shuffling of feet over broken class. Then Kimberly gave a couple of pained grunts. She rose slowly to her feet, put a fist to her bloody mouth, and began to cry. Loud, pained, choked sobs. Her eyes were squeezed shut. Blood trickled down the side of her face.
Travis, feeling bad, but far from done, approached her, deciding he’d at least give her a chance to get herself together. Then he could finish pummeling her to death. He put one large hand on her shoulder, put his other hand under her chin and tried to get her to look at him. Felt the cool touch of her tears spilling onto his flesh.
“Kim, don’t be such a bitch about it.”
He’d told Kimberly to give it everything, but hadn’t expected what she did next. Her knee shot up into his groin. Made him exhale air. Then before he could fall she had her hands buried into his shoulders and did it again and again and again. A total of four times she slammed her knee into his crotch before he went to the floor, hands over his balls, and grimacing. The pain was immense. Nauseating.
Kimberly lifted her bare foot up and stomped down on his stomach. He curled up briefly, his air gone, then tried moving again, trying to crawl away. Kimberly stomped on his head. Dazed him. She did it again. Damn near knocked him out. He could feel the warm blood swelling in his mouth like water in a clogged sink.
His anger, coursing through him like an overdose of heroine, was a terrible thing. Because until he got his wind back he wasn’t going to be able to act on it. Kimberly had turned out to be a bigger bitch than he’d planned.
“I love you baby,” she told him, lifted up her beautiful brown leg, held it with both hands high over her head like a ballerina, and let it go. It came down with the force of a guillotine. Connected and broke Travis Marshall’s neck like a collection of weak twigs. And everything went black.
Kimberly, clearly out of breath, bent down over her husband. Touched the outside of his ear with the tips of her fingers. She slid her hand down gently down over his eyelids and closed them. Leaned forward and kissed Travis’s freshly shaved cheek.
“I love you baby,” she said again, stood up, turned, and walked out of the club.
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