Page 2 of Praying Mantis

“Sean Fortune!” the barista yells. I roll my eyes. If they ever get it right, I’d tip them a hundred bucks.

“That’s me.” I step forward to grab my coffee. I thank him and leave a five-dollar tip. I’m out of the place in a matter of seconds walking toward the hotel. My phone in my pocket rings and I groan as I look to see it’s my mom calling.

“Sean? Is that you?”

“It’s my phone you’re calling, so who else would it be?” I snap. I love my mother, but she can be a pest.

“Don’t snap at your frail elderly mother.” She tries to sound all weak and sick, even coughing for effect.

“And the Oscar for the biggest bullshit line and performance goes to my mother, Cara” My tone is flat. “Mum, if you’re elderly, then I’m still a baby on your tit.” My Irish accent comes out in full swing, especially when talking to family. Sometimes I can fake an excellent American accent but other times I give up and speak in my native tongue. Being an Irish FBI agent from Boston is so cliché, people actually think I’m part of the Irish Mafia and I’m using my job to keep them from being put in jail, but if they knew even half of my story, they’d be shell-shocked for sure.

“Fine. Where are you? It sounds loud.”

“Walking back to the hotel. I’m in Los Angeles for a law enforcement conference. I told you about it months ago. I even sent you a text to remind you.”

“If your grandfathers could hear you talk right now, they’d be rolling in their graves.” It’s the same speech repeatedly. I’m the family’s disappointment as the only male-born son to my parents, as both of them are only children.

“Máthair, I’m extremely busy. Is there a reason for your call so early?”

“Yes, your father wants to see you when you get back to town.”

“Why didn’t he just call me himself?” I know why because he’s a gutless fish who knows I hate telling my mother no but him I have no problem denying.

“You know why. Let me know when I can cook for you, and I’ll let your athair know.”Yes, please let father know.I think to myself. I couldn’t care less about the comings and goings of my father. “I love you, Sean.”

“I love you too, Mum.” I hang up the phone as I finally make it back to the hotel. I check the time and notice I don’t have the time to hit the gym. I head to the first panel of the day. These things are so fucking boring and since I won the short stick along with my partner, here we are. At least we get to come to California for a week. I can head to the hotel bar later and get my dick wet with someone or find a club. I need a distraction if I’m going to be dealing with my dad this weekend.

“Fuck me life,” I mutter, collapsing in my chair with my coffee after picking up the crap of folders filled with papers on the topic for this seminar plus stupid promotional items which will end up in the garbage because we’ll never use half of this stuff on the chair.

Louisa

Denver, Colorado’s snowy mountains come into view as the flight attendant draws my attention from my Kindle to let me know we’ll be landing soon. I hate flying commercial but I often fly jobs in the United States through‌ an alias because I don’t like to draw unnecessary attention to myself. The private plane is more for out-of-the-country jobs or meeting with my handler, the procurer of said jobs.

As an adult who is living with OCD, I tend to not understand social cues and shy away from people. I’m more of a loner. Matthew is my only friend, and he gets there are certain quirks about me but doesn’t push the issue. I exit the plane with everyone else and find the Starbucks kiosk to grab an iced mocha coffee to get my nerves settled. I walk with my head down, trying to avoid eye contact with everyone coming and going through the Denver International Airport. Once outside, I raise my head to scan the area for a taxi. I walk to the first one I see.

“Hello, I’m staying at the Four Seasons Downtown.” I swallow. I try to remember when talking to someone new to make eye contact with them without looking like I’m creepy while doing so. Matthew helps a lot with social cues when we go out together, which I appreciate.

“Sure thing, darling. Hop in.” I nod at him. I take the napkin I have in my hand to pull open the handle to slide into the backseat. I’m nervous because I don’t know when the last time the seats were cleaned. Setting my carry-on suitcase next to me, I close the door and buckle up. The driver makes small talk with me. I try to give him answers to his questions to not come across rude. I smile as I give him money for the ride and thank him as I get out of the cab.

Walking into the hotel, my heels make a click-clack sound on the marble-looking floor. I take in how the lobby of the hotel is open with high ceilings, and the acoustics in here are amazing. I notice the detail on the walls of flowers colored green and gold. The décor choice makes it look expensive, but homey. Checking in doesn’t take me long, and once I settle into my room, I grab my cell phone to bring up my text messages.

ME: I’m looking forward to tonight

NICK: Me too. Can I see you earlier?

ME: When and where?

NICK: Same place maybe in an hour?

ME: I can do that

NICK: Perfect. I’ll let you know what room I’m in

ME: Sounds good. Can’t wait.

NICK: I’ve been dreaming about you all night and day. I can’t wait to sink my hard cock into your sweet pussy.

I roll my eyes. Is this what dating is really like? Is it all about sex and no romance? I know I have a black heart and no soul for the job I do outside of being a preschool teacher, but I still want my heart to flutter once in a while.

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