Page 1 of Praying Mantis

Louisa “Lou” Marshall

Sighing, I stare out the window of the private plane waiting for my turn to leave. My long, red fingernails tap on the armrest of my seat. Another job, another city, and I’m ready for a nice long bubble bath when I get home. I check my secure bank account app to make sure the rest of my payment is sitting there padding my savings into a nice nest egg. Three million dollars. I can feel the corners of my mouth tugging and bringing a smile to my face. I transfer payment over to my handler with a quick note about the Thanksgiving holiday before putting it on airplane mode. The flight attendant stands next to me letting me know I need to buckle up as we’re getting ready to take off because we’re next in line. I thank her, and she leaves me with my thoughts.

Closing my eyes, I wonder if I can truly end this because I don’t need to work another day in my life. I have over twenty billion dollars in my checking account. I can live anywhere and do anything. Right now, everything seems to give me a bitter taste in my mouth. Crinkling my nose, I wonder if Matthew is up for dinner and a movie sometime this week. He’s been my best friend since college. Despite my full-time job, my mom told me I needed to experience college life. I got an art degree because I love art and would kill for a job in the art world but with my current limitations I didn’t specialize in anything. When he got his job teaching at some private preschool, he told me they were short an art teacher. Who else better to work with than my bestie? I make a mental note to talk to him tomorrow about dinner. The private plane rolls away from the hangar and I watch as we take off. My fingers touch the window as if on instinct like I did when I flew as a child. My dad always told me I was touching the clouds.

“No Louisa,” I chastise myself for thinking about him. My dad was Louis Marshall, a business executive who liked his rules and would run his house with an iron fist. The first time he laid a hand on me was on my fifth birthday. When the first smack across my face came, I saw something in his eyes. They flickered from his normal hazel to a coffee color. His assaults on me were his favorite pastime until my mom finally got the balls to leave his ass when I was fifteen. Ten fucking years of torture at the hand of my dad. The kicker of it all was my mom knew nothing about it and when she found out, did nothing. She didn’t want to rock the boat, which means she didn’t want her meal ticket to go away. Then the school got involved, and she had to do something. I made a vow to never let a man use me as a punching bag again. My heart is now steel and rarely do I get sentimental. Shaking my head, I pick up my Kindle and read the latest book my best friend chose for me.

“You’re so vanilla in your reading,” Matthew teased one night. He was looking over my collection of books on my Kindle. For a gay man, he sure does like his reverse harems. I snuggle down under the blanket the flight attendant gave me and get comfortable with a woman and her four men, all of whom are brothers. I can’t get one guy. How does she get four?

Louisa

“Yay! Miss Lou is here.” I get out of my Mercedes. One of my students spots me, and I wave at him.

“Good morning, Parker. How was your weekend?” I smile.

His toothy grin always makes my day.“I drew you a picture but forgot it at Mommy’s house.”

I ruffle his red curly hair.“You can bring it to me at another time. I can’t wait to see it.” Parker’s dad walks with us so he can get signed in and ready for the day. I nod at him as I clock in and head to my classroom. The preschool reminds me of high school. The classrooms are designed like a normal school to help the kids acclimate to elementary school and we have a curriculum so they’re not playing the entire day, and we even have a bell reminding the teachers to change subjects. I mean, it’s preschool for crying out loud sometimes I think they should just be kids but I’m also not a mother or ever will be. I head into the staff break room to grab some coffee and smile at the other staff members hanging out there.

I take a seat at the table and look over as Matthew sits down next to me, “What’s shakin’, bacon?”

Pretending to grab my pearls, I reply, “Isn’t it some kind of sacrilege for a vegetarian to greet people like that?”

I am the master of keeping a straight face, and even though Matthew and I have been friends for a long time, I can still trick him. Staring into my eyes, Matthew’s eyes squint which is a tell of his when he’s trying to decide if I’m messing with him or not. “Please, I like all kinds of meat, just not from an animal.” He winks at me, and I almost choke on my coffee.

Clearing my throat, I say, “For a preschool teacher, you are awfully dirty-minded.” I cock my eyebrow and expect his colorful retort.

“Haven’t you heard, Louisa? All the best people are a little crazy?” I love this man. He’s the best friend anyone could have and great for my soul, no matter how dark it may be.

I hear the ping of my cell phone notifying me of an email. I unlock it and notice it’s from my handler. It’s in secret code so if anyone saw it, they would automatically think tutoring part time.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Student for Tutoring

Good afternoon,

We wanted to reach out to you since you have provided impeccable tutoring services in the past. We have another student whose parents are looking for your services. He is failing in math and political science and needs your services to ensure a productive and successful future. Please let me know if you would be available.

Thank you

Educators United

Thankfully, I know the underlying hints and it seems like this one should be interesting. It looks like my weekend relaxing is going to be filled with more excitement. Quickly, I send a reply to forward the details and indicate how happy I am to help shape the minds of the future.

I hear the bell ring and head to my classroom. Making sure my smile is on, I greet the kids coming back in. I love their innocent and curious minds. They make my day much more fulfilling.

After a long day at the preschool, I walk into my penthouse apartment. It’s all white, with some black accents here and there. I’m only here probably about three days out of the week, so I let an interior designer do everything. I told her I don’t like color. I pull out my laptop to go over the file in my email from earlier. I tap my fingernail on my two front teeth as it downloads. I’m not a patient person waiting for things, but when it’s out of my control, what can I do? Looking down at what I’m wearing, I notice I have paint splatter on my shirt.

“I need to clean up first.” I move swiftly and quietly through the penthouse to my bedroom to shower. My mom always told me I’m her little special girl because I don’t like to be dirty and constantly need to shower when I find anything on me which makes my line of work difficult. I shrug my clothes off after turning the nozzle for hot water on my steam shower. It flows out like a waterfall and I’m more than happy paying thousands of dollars to get my dream bathroom. One perk of being OCD I guess. There are some luxuries I can’t skimp on. The water burns my skin and I scrub away the day of children and parents, and only once I’m certain my body is completely boiled and red I turn off the shower to wrap myself into a nice soft pink towel. The bath towels are a gag gift from Matthew. When we went shopping for my apartment, I saw this soft pink towel and let out a gagging noise. He stared at me and when I told him this shade reminded me of a pussy then he made a smart ass comment about when he showers at my house finally making a woman’s pussy moist. I almost took my knife and stuck it in his jugular.

I walk into my bedroom and open my drawers to find my black T-shirt and red sweatpants lying on top waiting for me. I’m hoping the download is complete so I can start the initial contact with the new client.

Sean Fortin

Standing in line to order my coffee at Starbucks has my eyes twitching. Any other time I would skip this one, but it’s right near the hotel I’m staying at for this stupid law enforcement conference. The hotel’s coffee is bitter and disgusting. I walk up and place my order before stepping aside to the pickup counter, where I wait for them to bring me my Americano black coffee. I adjust the badge on my belt so it’s visible. I’ve noticed more and more when I’m anxious I play with it and move it around a lot. My mom calls it a nervous tic. I guess I did it when I was younger too. I hate being out in the open like this, not knowing what is happening. As a former military man being out in the public, especially in a building with a lot of windows, I feel exposed. My team and I were involved in an ambush but we were lucky one of the guys saw it coming about ten seconds before it cost a lot of lives. I sigh and try breathing in and out to calm my nerves. I think once I get my coffee I’ll head to my hotel before the meetings start and try to hit the gym to burn some excess energy off.

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