any concession for murder

                        “Nothing is as certain as death and taxes.”

                                                                        (Meet Joe Black)

The movie dragged on about certainties in life: Paul Murray stifled a yawn and wondered again how he had let Peggy drag him out to the movies. He was a busy man and movies did not usually make his schedule unless the movie was a prelude to sex; and in this case it was. Peggy was his regular girl- though he kept others on the side whenever got bored of her. She was good enough for a laugh and in the sack, but Paul always liked to keep his options open. Peggy Milsap sat to the right of Paul in the darkened theatre, desperately trying to hold back the tears as Brad Pitt steamed up the screen. Paul glanced at the tearful Peggy then back to the screen to watch Mr. Pitt confess his love to another beauty that one could actually conceive of dying for. Not that Paul would have died for anything- or anyone for that matter. He certainly would not have died for Peggy even though he believed he loved her, but only occasionally, in moments of weakness.  He was instantly grateful he hadn’t married her, although he had nearly asked a year ago- another moment like that. Paul knew that he would never dare marry Peggy or any other woman, he could not afford such a character flaw in his life.

He stifled another yawn wanting to look away from Brad and his all to beautiful partner engaged in the love scene. He looked to his left at the couple, five or six seats down, all snuggled together as they watched the movie. Disgusted, he looked back at Peggy, wondering if he could stand such an entanglement. His thoughts turned to why he thought they were still together. He found no reasons intellectually, so he appraised her physically instead.  Peggy for the most part was a plain woman in appearance, slender and small. She had a round doll-like face with a narrow nose and small mouth framed by straight black hair. Her mouth was sweet to kiss but had left no lasting impression. On her thin nose rested a pair of full-rimmed glasses, librarian size and shape. Peggy only wore them when she went to movies and to read. She reads too much Paul thought, as his eyes wondered on down. He glanced briefly at her slim arms which were crossed under her breasts- the only feature that held much interest and longing for Paul.

            Paul admired Peggy’s breasts, which were pushing hard against her tee shirt. Her nipples protruded against the flimsy bra that Paul made her wear when they went out. Paul smiled, Peggy’s breasts were small and hard; he realized at that moment, in the dark, that was why he stayed. Paul sat satisfied with this newfound answer. A new feeling rolled over him and he looked back at his sole reason for staying, something stirred deep down inside of his being. Paul purred.

This purring noise was deep “guttural” sound-like that of a lion looking at his next meal. Peggy gave him a look of real surprise. Her face had reddened from her tears and now a fresh blush came into her cheeks and she almost smiled. Her smile froze on her face, like a tongue on frozen metal, as she saw where Paul’s gaze was glued. Her frozen smile melted into a grimace of disgust, her arms quickly cutting off his view.

“Paul!” she hissed almost to loud to be a whisper.

“Paul!” she repeated low but with sharper inflection.

Paul snapped out of his reverie like a rubber band freshly sprung. He looked into her icy expression.

“Yes my sweets?” He managed to choke out.

“Would you get me a Pepsi” She quickly added, “diet please.”

“Okay Honey.”

            Paul instantly felt a surge of relief to escape Brad Pitt. He secretly wished he could escape Mr. Pitt forever. Paul rose quickly to his feet only to receive hisses and muffled threats as he blocked the screen for the couples in the rows behind.

Jerks! Paul thought- Brad Pitt isn’t even in this scene, but he stooped anyway as he sidestepped towards the aisle. Reaching the aisle, Paul quickly strode for the lobby and certain freedom.

He was just about to push through the doors when he nearly tripped over someone. Pivoting as he stumbled, he stared into the frightened eyes of a woman.

It was Caitlin Marshall.

Paul reached out and grabbed Caitlin’s left arm and yanked her towards him and the doors. They both burst out into the spacious lobby of the theatre. Paul angrily held onto her arm as he walked into the lobby as if he intended to throw her out. Paul realized he wanted to.

A man in a maroon blazer and tie spun around from the concession counter as the pair came out.

“Just what the Hell!” Paul began, turning on the woman.

“Is everything okay?” A voice questioned over his shoulder.

How had he gotten there so fast? Paul thought in frustration and a little fear.

“Would you mind your own business.” Paul snarled without turning, still glaring at Caitlin- who stood like a girl needing desperately to go to the bathroom.

“Are you alright- Ma’am?” The manager said as he came around Paul’s blocking mass. He immediately noticed Paul’s grip on Caitlin’s arm. He looked back at her face, which was torn between embarrassment and pain. Caitlin opened her mouth to speak, but Paul cut her off.

“She’s fine. So why don’t you go away and sweep the floor.” Paul stopped; spittle ran down his chin. Fear hit him hard as the manager turned on him.

The manager stood half a head shorter than Paul, squared build and wore an expression like that of an angry pitbull.

A lump rose in Paul’s throat.

“This is my theater, sir, and I was addressing the lady- who I am sure will be better when you let go of her arm.” His voice was quiet, his tone deadly.

“Or?” Paul was still determined to stand his ground.

“Or-“ continued the manager, bringing his clenched hands forward.

“I’ll dismantle you,” he said smiling, “piece by piece.”

            The finality of the threat sunk into Paul who found him staring at the calluses on the manager’s knuckles. He gulped for air like a man drowning, letting go of Caitlin’s arm. He raised his arms defensively in front of him with his hands spread wide.

“Oh,” he breathed. “Sorry, didn’t mean to cause a scene.”

Paul managed a feeble smile.

“Of course. No harm- no foul.” The manager grinned. He turned to face Caitlin, who stood less awkwardly, rubbing her arm.

“Steven A. Lowe, Ma’am.” He extended his right hand. Caitlin took it feeling the security in it. A profound look of gratitude came over her.

“Thanks.” She said. “Caitlin Marshall.”

“If you need anything else,” Steven said with a genuine smile, “I’ll be right over there.”

He pointed across the lobby to the concession stand. Caitlin nodded-the color coming back into her cheeks. Steven turned to look at Paul, who stood palely in place.

“Behave.” Steven said as he walked past Paul, in a tone low enough for Paul to think that he was the only one who heard it. As Steven walked back to the concession stand, he gave a shallow wave to the other employees to get back to work. Marcy, his assistant manager, gave him thumbs up to show her approval of Steven’s actions.

Rabble, Steven thought, wishing he had kept the policeman- security guard there for weeknights. Rabble came on weeknights, and there always seemed to be trouble when the rabble was here.

Steven sighed and shook his head as he looked back at the couple. He wondered what a woman like that would be doing with a man of that character. The man appeared to be behaving. Steven looked at the beautiful woman trying to remember her name.