Mean Woman Blues

you do it for me?”
    “A bit intimate for a married woman, don’t you think?”
    “You’re not legally married to that twinky, are you? Even you aren’t that crazy.”
    She laughed genuinely again, the way she had when she called him Eliza Dolittle. She was still in the bathroom, where she’d gone to look for the razor. “Of course not, darling. It makes it easier for him socially.” She paused. “Not that he hasn’t asked.”
    He stepped close to her, deliberately invading her space. She knew he could feel her breasts, and her breathing. He grabbed the hand that held the razor and lifted it above her head, against the wall, pinning her. “We wouldn’t want to endanger that lovely money, would we?”
    “Let me go, Earl.” She made her voice low and threatening.
    “That lovely money you wouldn’t have if it weren’t for me. You haven’t forgotten that, have you?”
    “What the hell do you want?” She couldn’t keep the bite out of her voice.
    He shoved her into the wall, stepping back, but retaining a threatening distance. His voice was smooth and uncaring. “How about a shave and a haircut?”
    “Sit down,” she said, indicating a little vanity bench.
    He sat, staring into the mirror. She stood behind him, also staring at their tableau. They would have made a lovely couple if not for the fury on their faces.
    She cooled her face down and saw him see her do it. Not good. She rummaged in a drawer and came up with scissors. “Let’s cut it first.”
How about stabbing?
she wondered. Could she do it? It might be her best bet. She’d hidden the gun on her way to answer the door, but she needed time to retrieve it.
    “Whatever the lady wishes.” The proximity of their bodies, the heat from the mirror lights, maybe even the anger did something that might work well for her. He was starting to get turned on. She could feel his breathing change.
    “Take off your shirt,” she said.
    Daily workouts had been part of his transformation. She knew how proud he was of his torso. For full dramatic effect he pulled the shirt over his head instead of unbuttoning it.
    Rosemarie pretended not to notice. She took it and stomped it under her feet. “To catch the hair,” she explained. And she began cutting his hair with an energetic focus that might also, it occurred to her, be described as violent.
    She hadn’t gotten where she was by being a shrinking violet, and nobody knew that better than Earl. She saw a light sweat break out on his upper lip.
    She wasn’t quite sure when she’d have a better moment. She had the scissors. All she had to do was… what? Bury the blade in his back? Or maybe his ribs.
    “Too warm?” she said. “Let me turn up the AC.”
    “Ever the perfect hostess.”
    How much pressure would it take to kill him?
    “Ow! Do you have to pull it so hard?”
    She didn’t answer. Maybe she was hurting him on purpose. She didn’t think she could stab him. Shoot, yes. But thinking of that blade and how it would feel, cutting through him… no. Uh-uh. She couldn’t do it.
    His head was now covered with a steel-gray cap of quarter-inch hair.
Not a bad look
, she thought.
But way too Mr. Right for today.
She picked up the razor.
    He grabbed for it. “Never mind I’ll do this part”
    Letting it go, she leaned languidly against a wall. “Oh, really? I thought you were kind of enjoying the attention.”
    He threw the razor down and pinned her once again, giving her a whiff of his sweat. Before she could move, he kissed her, and she let herself melt against him, thinking maybe the tiny submission would reassure him. For the moment it seemed to work. He let her go. “Mmm. Yeah.”
    She smiled, lifting an eyebrow in a bemused, slightly superior way. “Later, maybe?”
    He fired up the razor and buzzed it over his skull. “What about the semi-hubby?”
    “He’s probably passed out in front of the TV.”
    “What do you see in him, anyway?’
    “I never have had good taste in men.”
    “Except for that last husband of yours.” The one who’d left her the lovely money. “And of course your first.”
    “Not everybody marries Mr. Right the first time around.”
    “Including you, baby. We’ve come a long way since then.”
    He put the razor down and turned to her. “What do you think?”
    “I think you’re about to go a lot farther.” She wasn’t sure what she meant by it, just hoped it would give him the idea to get the hell out of her life.
    He said, “I meant the