Frisky Friday Flashy Fiction


How are you this Friday? After five days off, I almost needed a vacation to get back into the groove. Instead of complete break, I stepped back and did some reorganizing. Hopefully, it will be the last one of this year!

Notice the slight name change? Why?

When I began writing episodes, I technically stopped crafting true flash fiction. But my installments are fast and written without any real planning. They’re FLASHY fiction!

Here is today’s episode…



Part Thirteen

Apryl Atkins

As I entered the bedroom, the cheap phone I recently purchased rang. I peered at the glowing screen. Although I didn’t recognize the caller ID, only one person had my number. Besides, I had checked myself off the grid years ago. It was better that way. Easier to do the job I had to do if no one knew me or how to find me.

Picking up the device, I stared at it for a moment. If the girl lived up to my expectations, the caller would be the good detective.

After a few more seconds of the annoying ring tone—somebody’s cover version of the latest pop tune—I swiped right. Feigning breathlessness, I said, “Hello?”

“Mary Jenkins?” asked the familiar male voice.

“Y-yes?” I perched on the edge of the bed and crossed my legs. “May I ask who’s calling?”

I hated pretense. Acting like the innocent, virginal female was enough to sicken me.

“Calvin Reeves. We had dinner the other night at Marissa’s.”

“Oh! Yes, your sister said you might call.” No, she didn’t. “I didn’t expect you would, though,” I lied. With the way he checked me out, I would have been shocked if he hadn’t contacted me.

A nervous chuckle came across the line. “Well… I almost didn’t.” He paused. Silence filled the spaces, and I was almost afraid he hung up or the signal was lost. Finally, he asked, “Look, are you busy?”

“Not at the moment. Why?” I asked as I slid off the blonde wig. Too bad I hadn’t met the detective wearing that. I miss being a blonde.

“How about meeting me for a cup of coffee?”

“Coffee? Detective, I don’t normally drink caffeine this late. Do you eat gelato?” Before he could respond, I added, “There’s a place in walking distance. I’ll meet you in the apartment lobby.”

“Five minutes?”

“Ten. I need time to change.” No, I didn’t.

“Fine. See you then.”

I disconnected the call and tossed the phone onto the bed. Running a hand over my close-cropped black hair, I glanced over at the outfit I chose earlier for our impromptu date. 

Everything was going according to plan.


Exactly ten minutes later, I arrived in the lobby. The red wig was perfectly curled and my makeup was freshly applied. Marissa told me that her brother’s ex-wife was a fashion horse. The woman spent more money on jeans than some people paid for a decent meal. If I wanted to attract the detective, I knew I had to appeal to his sense of decency. I opted for a pair of ripped jeans and matching jacket, a simple white T-shirt, and black flats. Understated hinting at cheap. The detective didn’t have to know that the jeans alone cost a thousand dollars.

I smiled as I approached. “Hello, Detective.”

“Please. Call me Calvin.”

“All right, Calvin. Shall we go?”

If the circumstances were different, I could have found something to like about the detective. He was handsome with a body that a lot of actors would have given their left nut for. I would know. He didn’t go on and on about himself or his job. Why? The man was too obsessed with me.

How long had I been in Los Angeles?

Did I know anyone else in town?

What did I do for fun?

The interrogation didn’t stop when we arrived at Bacio di Latte. I ordered a chocolate and coffee single-serve gelato with hazelnut spread and vanilla crumble. The detective chose a waffle cone filled with salted caramel. While we waited, the man faced me and continued.

“So, Mary, where did you say you moved here from?”

“The East Coast.”

His eyebrow quirked up. “That’s a wide area. Care to be more specific?”

“Not really.” I reached across the counter and picked up the small container. Without looking at the man, I asked, “Not to be rude, but could we stop with the police routine? I feel like I should call my lawyer.”

He grinned. “Sorry. It’s force of habit. It’s only fair. Ask me whatever you like.”

We sat at a table in front of the window. “Okay. Why did you divorce your wife?”

Actually, I knew the story thanks to Marissa, but I wanted to hear his rendition.

“Ariel spent too much money. She acted like a pampered princess and treated me like her cash cow.”

I laughed. “With a name like Ariel, you should have guessed that about her.”

His eyebrows knitted together. “Why’s that?”

“Ariel. Disney.” When he didn’t catch on, I said, “The Little Mermaid is named Ariel and she’s a Disney princess.”

“Oh!” He nodded. “Well, figure that.” The detective took a bite of his cone and then went right back to asking me a million questions.

Either he was genuinely intrigued, or I needed to do more to throw him off my trail.


That’s it for this week!

Have a safe holiday!

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