Kill on Command by Slaton Smith Page B

without sauce and flipped it to Bailey.  She caught it in the air.  He finished the sandwich, shoved the bag into the empty Coke cup and then headed upstairs for some needed rest.  He pulled off his shirt and let his pants drop to the floor.  After brushing his teeth, he opened his window slightly.  Bailey jumped onto the bed and he followed her. 
     
    “Good night girl.” 
     
    He needed to crash.  After all, the next day was his triumphant return to the lacrosse field.
     
    Back on Walnut Street, Jennifer and Ann wove their way through the crowd at Doc’s, finally making it to the roof.  Brian saw them before they saw him.
     
    “Shit,” he said, as he started to stand.  Stacy looked at Jennifer and Ann as they approached the table. Both were knockouts.  Both dressed in black.  Ann was a blonde version of Jennifer.  Both did this thing with their eye make-up that drove every guy nuts.  Stacy instantly hated them both.  They both hugged Brian.  Now Stacy really hated them.
     
    The guys in the bar took notice as well.
     
    “We made it out!”  Jennifer exclaimed, looking around.  She realized she was over dressed but could not have cared less.
     
    “You just missed Sean.  He headed home,” Brian said emphasizing “Sean.”
     
    “Oh no!  I really wanted to see him,” she said.
     
    “Feel free to swing by our place.  I am sure he’s just watching TV.”
     
    “I don’t know . . . Is it far?”  Jennifer asked, while looking at Ann.  Ann was clearly not on board with it.
     
    “Two blocks.  Here’s the address.  I will text him to let him know you two are coming over.  I am sure the bouncer downstairs will call you a cab,” Brian said, scribbling down the address on a napkin and handing it to her.
     
    “Thank you Brian.”  Jennifer leaned over the table giving him a good show and kissed him on the cheek making, sure Stacy saw it and then turned and walked away.  Just like everyone else, Jennifer had taken an instant dislike to Stacy.
     
    Brian sat back down.  Stacy’s eyes were glued to him, arms crossed.
     
    “Sean met them on the plane,” he said, reaching for his beer and slouching in his chair.
     
    “Well, duh.  He hasn’t changed.” 
     
    “I met them when I picked him up at the airport.” 
     
    “I am sure you did.  They seemed to remember you fondly,” she said with a good measure of nasty in her tone.
     
    “I had my uniform on.  Chicks dig it.”  He smiled and reached for his cell to text Sean.
     
    Brian:  Jennifer and a friend are on their way over.  Put Bailey in my room and get downstairs.  You can thank me later.
     
    Sean never received the message.  He was in bed sound asleep next to a seventy-five pound Boxer.  His phone was downstairs between two seat cushions.
     
    Sandy did receive the text however.  Her iPhone mirrored Sean’s.  She was not happy.
     
    “Damn it.  I should have pushed her into traffic at the airport.”  She pulled her blonde hair into a ponytail, slipped on her running shoes, took a look at Sean sleeping and sprinted downstairs.
     
    As Brian surmised, the bouncer was jumping through hoops for Jennifer and quickly got her a cab.
     
    Sandy ran down her stairs and across her yard.  She paused at the street and ran across Brian and Sean’s yard to the front porch.  The porch was wide enough for a handful of chairs.  Two lights book-ended the front door.  A thick hedge butted up against the porch. 
     
    “Bob, look. What the hell is she doing?” Bill said, as he nudged Bob.
     
    “Hell if I know, and I am not asking.  Let’s see how it plays out.  Wait, she’s a blonde now?”
     
    Sandy grabbed a stick that had fallen on the porch and smashed the bulbs.  The porch went dark.  Sandy found a chair and sat down.  She waited.
     
    Upstairs, Bailey let out a low rumble.  “Quiet girl,” Sean said, half asleep.
     
    Sandy did not have to wait long as a cab appeared at the corner of St. James and