Before I Die … Give Me a Drink of Cool Water

She was beautiful. She was like a sip of cool water on a hot day. I first ran into her on the beach. Romantic, huh? Damn right it was.

Her name was Maria. I flashed my killer smile, we talked for a while, and then she was mine. We made love in the sand, right there and then. I have never loved a woman as I have loved her.

There was only one problem; she belonged to another man. Not just any man, but the biggest bad-ass within a hundred miles. Hell … within a thousand miles. The asshole’s name was Jake.

Maria and I snuck around for a few weeks, but then I couldn’t take it no more. Was I a man or was I not? Fuck Jake! I told Maria that I was gonna confront him and tell him that now she was my woman.

She cried and begged me not to do it. She feared for my life. I asked her if she loved me. She said that she did. That settled it.

Jake owned a strip club down on 5th Street. I knew I could find him there on the weekends. So, it was on a hot Saturday night that I dressed in my best and took a cab to his club.

It was no problem gaining entrance to the inner sanctum once I told the bodyguard that it concerned Maria.

Jake was affable as I walked into his office. But that didn’t last once I told him why I was there.

“What makes you think you can take my woman from me?” he demanded.

“Because she loves me and not you,” I answered.

Those were the last words to pass my lips.

How was I to know he kept an old-fashioned Colt .45—the kind cowboys used to wear—in his desk? He cocked back the hammer and put a bullet into my chest.

Now I lie on a dirty floor as my life-blood pools beneath me. As I grow cold, as my vision tunnels, as I’m dying, I yearn for only one thing: A drink of cool water. And damn right, it’s a metaphor … I wanna see my Maria before I die … my drink of cool water on a hot day.

5 thoughts on “Before I Die … Give Me a Drink of Cool Water

  1. I enjoyed your story, Andrew. One thought crossed my mind, though, and it still applies, although to a lesser extent than in the past. What gives men the right to ‘own’ a woman, and think she has no rights to make her own mind up about who she wants to be with?

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I agree with you 100%. No one should own anyone. But you have to understand that I write fiction. Sometimes in my historical fiction novels I have to use the N-word. I don’t like it and I’ve never spoken it in my life. But I write it if it’s historically correct. It’s the same thing with what I wrote above. If I were writing about two women fighting over a man, I’d write this dialogue: “He belongs to me, you bitch!”

      So, are we cool?

      Like

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