THE CONVERSATION

A Story by mark slade

SMALL TALK

Bill laughed heartily. "You think you know everything, don't you?"

Jack lowered an eyebrow. "I know what's best for you," he said.

"You've been married to Karen for five years and never once gotten what you wanted out of the relationship."

Bill nodded. "I wanted kids. At least one. She didn't want to ruin her figure.I wanted to live on a farm in Iowa, she wanted me to keep making money in real estate here in New york."

Jack pointed a finger at Bill. "You know about her and Kyle. You knew about the office boy a few months ago. You knew about the money she took from the bank account to pay off her brother's gambling debts."

Bill touched the revolver in his belt. "I guess we do it like we planned it."

Jack nodded. "Leave it on the table at the resteraunt when you two leave. Use the .45 in the glove compartment, shoot her twice in the head after she get's in the car. Go back to the resteraunt to get your revolver, rush back in and say your wife has been killed by a mugger. It's going to work, my friend."

"Bill.....?" Karen appeared in the doorway of their bedroom, with that look of disgust on her face. Bill was standing in front of the mirror, gazing at his own reflection, straightening and restraightening his tie. "We're going to be late," she said venemously.

Bill touched the handle of his revolver that was hidden well by the length of his coat. "I'm ready, dear. More than ready."

Karen turned to exit the doorway, when she said, "Who were you talking to anyway?"

Bill smiled to himself. "No one in particular. No one at all."