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I was so fucking nice to her that I even cleaned out her goddamn cat's litter box. Where the hell did she get off calling ME a bitch?I was furious. For six months I had listened to her, the spoiled brat, the princess, talk her way out of anything. She was her parent's pride and joy, and she was the snottiest cunt that I had ever met.A few minutes later she walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen to make another "animal friendly" meal. She was all for saving the animals from pain, but I'd seen her destroy her best friend's life with the snap of her fingers. She had about as much compassion as a shark, but nobody knew that except for me.I walked into the kitchen to get a drink of water."Hi!" I said in my super friendly fake voice."Hey, how's it goin?" She replied with the same mocking tone.We stood in the kitchen making mindless chit-chat for a few minutes. I watched her as she prepared her meal. It was obvious to me that she hadn't worn a bra today. She really couldn't get away. Not yet. I was thinking about somebody." You seemed to be in space. If you're okay, do you want another beer?" Yeah. That'd be good." I couldn't get my eyes off Cynthia and I think she might have caught me staring a couple of times. I'm not even sure when the waitress brought the beer. Even in combat, I don't think I was ever so unnerved.Cynthia danced with the guys in her booth and seemed to pay particular attention to the one next to her. I suppose he was her date, but I didn't know him. The other guy, Bill Crawford, was someone I had known from a class and we'd talked and played cards now and then. Everyone seemed to be having a good time, although I saw Cynthia looking troubled a couple of times. My sharp memories of her in class and at the coffee bar paled beside the real person here tonight. Although I had faced tough situations in the military, I was not prepared to be this nervous.Sometime later, I saw her return to her booth chatting with the other woman — I guessed coming.
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