White Sand

The sun beaming down from the cloudless sky made the white sand feel like a million hot coals beneath their feet. Two days into their honeymoon, they each held a margarita respectively as they assumed two empty island chairs that were shaded by a palm tree. The couple seemed to be made for one another, each possessing the same shade of brown hair and matching eyes. They were similar in build and intelligence, both welcoming the challenge of pushing each other to their physical and intellectual limits.

As they softly clapped their glasses together for a short toast, he looked in her eyes and thought of the future. For all of the reasons he could have imagined to get lost in her mesmerizing windows to the soul, the future was not one of them. Thoughts of children and the stereotypically outdated white picket fences taunted him, showing him that everything that he had ever wanted was laid out so neatly in front of him. He was looking back at the woman who had accepted would one day be the death of him.

The stress and the expectations washed away like the first sip of the margarita that now rested beside him in the sand.

“I thought you wanted to get some sun,” William remarked.

“I will, there’s still plenty of day left.”

“You better check the time again, love. We slept until 4:30 after last night. Which you do remember, right?” William’s tone suggested a slight hint of sarcasm, but he was certain that it went over her head. The disinterested giggle told him that he was right, watching as she grabbed for her phone to reply to a new text message.

As day gave way to night, they decided to pack up and stumble back to the lavish hotel room that they had rented for the next five days and four nights. Clearly affected by the amount of drinks they had both taken in, they mumbled and shared hidden and known truths alike. The current state of his new bride worked to his advantage, allowing her to be surprised at what he’d planned to have waiting for her upon arrival to the suite.

As she pushed the door open after trying multiple times with the door key, sounds of Elton John’s Tiny Dancer filled the room. A sense of disbelief came over her, stepping forward to a suite illuminated completely by candlelight. William walked in just after she did and grabbed her by the waist softly, whispering in her ear that the best was yet to come. She smiled at his confidence and approached the bed. William turned away from her to fetch more spirits that were compliments of the hotel and heard a shriek come from the bedroom area. Dropping the wine bottle on top of the kitchen counter, he ran out to see the source of the commotion. 

Looking at his wife, her expression changing from absolute joy to sudden tears, she dropped to her knees and began to sob quietly. As her husband approached her from behind and dropped on one knee behind her, he peered over her shoulder to see a dozen dead roses torn up and spread across the king sized bed.

All possible scenarios that ran through his head seemed illogical, leaving him a complete loss for any explanation. He told the Asian gentleman at the front desk to have the white roses that he provided spread out across the room and on top of the bed, but these roses were a dark blood shade of red. Rising to both of his feet, he reached for his cell phone and called hotel security.

Just as he was about to press the green button to send the call, she reached for his arm and pulled it back down.

“Wait… it’s not worth it, baby. Don’t call them, I was crying happy tears. I promise.”

He thought about it for a moment and nodded his head in agreement, sliding the phone back into his pocket. He sat on the bed and watched his wife undress before heading into the bathroom to do the same. As he unbuckled his belt and dropped his pants to the floor, curiosity got the best of him. William grabbed the cell phone from his pocket and made the call, standing in front of the mirror as he did so.

The conversation began innocently enough, asking flat out if anybody had been to their room or if they’d noticed any suspicious activity on their floor. The worker on the other end of the line relayed that his wife had authorized a spare key be made for her. Confused, William ended the call and was reaching for the door handle when the sea green shower curtain was slid open.

The criminal grabbed him by the throat and wrestled him to the floor. As William tried to fight his way out a choke hold, he looked up to see his wife standing over him holding a roll of duct tape. He passed out as she walked closer toward him.

Batting his eyes with urgent speed, his vision slowly came back to him, rising from the black wall of nothing that had just lay in front of him for forty plus minutes. He noticed a masked man sitting in a chair, talking to his wife who was holding onto his leather wallet. Once realizing that her newlywed husband had come to, she walked over to him and spit in his face.

His heart felt just as dirty as his face as he wiped himself clean, looking back at her. He asked her what this was all for, trying to make sense of it all.

“What’s this all for? Money? The god damn life insurance? You won’t get away with this!”

“Maybe I won’t, but there’s only one way to find out, William.” She looked at her masked companion, throwing a signal that they’d definitely worked out beforehand. The masked man lifted her husband and carried him to the balcony of the hotel that overlooked the parking lot and then the ocean. As he leaned him up against the railing, he punched him in the gut to weaken his stamina further, preventing any hope of a valiant comeback attempt.

She stepped in front of him, looking at him face to face one last time.

He fought through the pain to tell her something that had been weighing him for some time.

“You almost made me feel like I had to be somebody special to have you,” he said with tears welling in his eyes, “and the only reason I’m successful at all is because I had to have you.”

“And you did,” she said, before pushing him over the beige colored stone railing.