Kerry, 31

Chapter 19

Kerry, 31

Still, by comparison to what happened the following night, finding myself embattled in resisting the urge to submit myself to the cuckold life doesn’t seem all that unusual. It was past ten and I didn’t plan on going out. I was trying to get some writing in, but as has been happening all too often of late, I found myself staring at the screen with my mind elsewhere when I got a message from someone I matched with a while back, Kerry, 31 asking if I wanted to grab a drink. 

I should have known something was off about Kerry right from the start. To that point she had pretty much only messaged me between the hours of one and four AM on weekdays - but I didn’t notice that until the day we were supposed to meet. She didn’t have an occupation listed either. The red flags were everywhere, but… Alright, I’m going to let you in… here’s what I wrote in my journal about that night…

From 11/7/2019:

I shouldn't have gone. I don't know what's going on with me lately, but maybe I'm starting to feel a little... desperate. I'm past Elaine now. That's over and done with. I've been dating for months now, and haven't found anyone. I've got friends, family, the two best pets in the world, but I still feel alone. When when I find someone? I still can't believe what Kerry asked me...

    Okay, so now that you’re in - I just want to clarify something. I’d just had an excess of margaritas with Nelson and Steven before I wrote that (believe it or not, that’s my chicken scratch), and was feeling a bit emotional. I’m not saying it’s not true - because I am feeling alone and maybe getting a little desperate… but I think I’ve come to realize now that it doesn’t tell the whole story. 

    I’ve spent months filtering through red flags, dodging landmines and avoiding meeting so many people who could potentially be the one - and that’s gotten me nowhere. Whatever I’ve been doing hasn’t been working… so I decided maybe there was a rational reason Kerry only texted me that late… an overnight job… a nurse maybe… and then she just decided not to list a profession on her profile… no big deal. 

    The first thing I noticed was the jitteriness. She was fidgety, kept looking over her shoulder, asking if I thought the other people in the bar were staring at her. Her eyes were bloodshot like she hadn’t slept in weeks �" but she was pepped up like she’d just had nine cups of coffee, or as I now suspect, a giant mound of cocaine.

I was wrong about her having a job with weird hours, too. She didn’t have a job at all �" which made me wonder, what kind of twisted terrorist can stay up past midnight multiple nights in a row after the age of thirty? I got my answer shortly after that. We were only out for about six minutes before she asked me a question that froze my heart and left me dazed.

    “So will you do it?” She asked, leaning over the table. 

    I stared into her cracked, coke, or methed out eyes… She couldn’t be serious… but her it didn’t look like she was joking. There’s no way… 

            “So, let me get this straight,” I said. “You have an unregistered gun that belonged to your ex-boyfriend… you stole it from him… you want to give it to me… then I go over to his house and… shoot him?”

"Yeah," she shrugged, "And you have to make it look like an accident."

            After tucking tail and running out of somewhere once again for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, this time with my blood running cold and already dialing the Tiverton Police, I found myself again questioning what I’m doing wrong in all of this, but as I pull into the parking lot near Casa Nuevo, I’m optimistic that tonight’s going to be different because I have a feeling about Katri �" S**t. I left my wallet at the house.