Birthday Rain
By Frank Tavares
It was raining. A west Texas cloudburst. Just enough to tease the dry grass. In a few minutes, the sun would most likely be back and the moisture would evaporate so quickly that those in the diner across the street would never know it had happened at all.
Bobby Gillette, thirty years old that morning, had his hands in the pockets of his favorite hoodie. He was slouched behind the wheel of his aging pickup watching water drops chase down the windshield. The truck didn't like the weather any more than he did, and after a storm would often give attitude when he turned the key, which is why he'd left it running.
Bobby was parked in a gravel lot a couple of miles from their motel. He was hungry. Breakfast would be good. Then the job. He was waiting for the rain to stop. Kelsey was next to him, arms crossed.
"It’s pretty simple," she said. "Me or the bitch."
Bobby shook his head. "It's not like that."
Kelsey pulled a cigarette from her purse. She jabbed at the lighter in the dashboard, drumming fingers on her leg while she waited for it to pop. She lit up, sucking the nicotine deep inside.
"So, what is it like on Planet Bobby?" she asked, talking the smoke out. "Me and your ex hanging out at some bar comparing notes?"
He looked at her. Smoke filled the cab. She waved a hand to clear the air. It swirled the fog around her face, dulling her hazel eyes.
Kelsey Fellows was a late-twenties Texas beauty in a metal-band t-shirt under a denim jacket. She wore jeans, and a custom pair of snakeskin boots she'd own outright in two more payments. Her red hair was pulled back in a loose pony tail. Several strands had escaped and tickled her chin. The angles of her face were sharp, accentuated by high cheek bones, and a thin upper lip that gave her smiles a deceptive, sly quality. She wasn't smiling now.
73