“Is there something wrong?”
I ticked off salient points. “We’re in Las Vegas, which in and of itself was an abominable decision. You hit on possibly the only woman in the bar who shouldn’t go anywhere with you, much less to your room for a quickie. Which you did after losing your part of the travel fund attempting to impress her.”
He interrupted. “She has a name.”
I opened my arms. “Look at all the fucks I don’t give. Why? Because you didn’t check to see if her name came with a ‘missus’ in front of it before you played tonsil hockey by the elevators!”
“She wasn’t wearing a ring.” A weak protest, best ignored.
“No, she was dripping with diamonds, including sewn into her goddamned dress. Was that not a clue?”
“Sexist of you. She could have bought those herself.”
I snorted. “Women are generally smart enough to invest their money elsewhere, because they know how to show themselves off with more class and less danger. Jewels are bought by their very well-connected husbands, should they be lucky enough – or un – to have such.”
“You’re just jealous.”
I took a deep breath.
I let it out slowly.
“No, you fucking moron. I’m pissed off that you put me in this situation.”
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
And that, officer, is why I shot my brother in the ass. I did not, however, shoot the guy in the bathtub. I just borrowed his gun.
Written for the Thursday Threads challenge. Check out the other entries, too!
ETA: And it won!