Mixed Drinks

by Joseph Grant

It was a fool-proof plan, thought Yvette as she sat along the sidewalk tables of the restaurant, her face shrouded by the dark wig and sunglasses. She’d call over one of the new barely-out-of-their-teens waiters, tell the boy she’d like to send a drink to the man across the crowded bar but with explicit instructions that she was to taste it first and not to tell him who it was from and that there was an extra $20 in it if he carried it out precisely as she said. She looked at Walter through the window at the bar inside and thought of how Walter had been a nice enough second husband but remembered also how he had slapped her once or twice and had been surly of late and how there was the little need for him anymore and most importantly, a little matter of his insurance to collect. The only problem was that he was inconveniently very alive at the present moment but the drink would soon take of that and she could duck out before Walter even hit the ground. To plan, the waiter had looked away momentarily as she bent forward in her low cut dress and tasted it and she smirked wickedly as she surreptitiously emptied the poison into the glass, but now watched in horror as it was being brought to the wrong person. Good waiters, like men, are hard to find Yvette sighed to herself; knowing now as she gathered her purse and jacket that no plan was 100% fool-proof and Walter would soon be home with one hell of a story.

6S - C3

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