Pink Slip Prophet by George Donnelly Page A

Candy continuing a pattern of lies.
    Jack was his. Jack would stay with him. What about Michael and Stacy? Should he abandon them? Could he?
    ***
    “I want to go to a better school,” Jack said. He lay in the hammock in Michael’s old room off the kitchen. “Like Anselm Academy.”
    Ian sat a few paces away at his desk, which was next to the bright window. When Ian turned a certain way, he could see beyond the identical apartment building next door and to the park beyond it. Tall, green trees swayed in the wind among toy drones and families. Indian summer was here.
    Ian stopped his design work and turned his chair to look at the boy. Beyond Jack, Candy’s shadow moved around the small sliver of kitchen he was able to see. “I think that is a great idea!”
    “I also want one of those new quantum micro-computers and can you teach me to program it?”
    Ian nodded. “Sure, we can do that.”
    “I need a budget for parts, too. I want to make a small robot, one I can talk with.”
    Ian moved his chair closer to the boy. “Perfect. You know, this is exactly the kind of thing I wanted to come out of the family self-improvement thing.”
    A dish crashed to the floor in the kitchen. A shard bounced off the wall that led to Ian’s office and bounded into Ian’s bare big toe. A drop of blood leaked out of the top of the toe.
    “What the hell,” Ian whispered. He strode towards the kitchen.
    “Dad, wait,” Jack said, “I want to talk more.”
    “In a minute,” Ian said.
    Candy stood in the kitchen, a glass in her hand. She threw it to the floor. Slivers flew in all directions.
    Ian shielded his eyes. He picked up a foot to move to Candy, then stopped. He didn’t want to step on broken glass.
    Maria stood behind Candy. “Do you require assistance, Mrs. Blake?”
    “No, I do not require assistance!” Her hair was a ragged, twisted mess. Her eyes were puffy and she was crying. She looked at Ian with a barely suppressed rage, took a plate out of the cabinet and smashed it to the floor.
    “Stop that!” Ian yelled.
    “Make me,” she said with a childish look of defiance. She rocked her head from side to side and stuck her tongue out.
    She grabbed another glass. Ian stepped forward. His foot landed on a shard of glass and he recoiled. He steadied himself with one hand on the counter, stepped again and found steady footing. He grabbed the glass from her hand, replaced it in the cabinet and closed the cabinet doors.
    “Why are you still here!” she screamed. Her hands balled into fists at her sides. “Get out!” She pushed him and he teetered on his toes searching for balance before finding it again.
    “Just because you’re a liar and a cheater doesn’t mean I am going to abandon my home or my children,” Ian said.
    “They’re not your children!” She tried to push him again but Ian redirected her hands away from him.
    “I’ve raised them, in this home. You can stay but you’re going to carry your own weight, just like everyone else. Or you can leave.” Ian looked at her. She was sexy when she was angry and he felt a pang of lust rise up in him. But she couldn’t be trusted. She was poison. He had to keep up his guard.
    “This is my home! I made it!”
    “With lies,” he interjected. “You know what, I want this settled now. You either get yourself under control and get onto the right path or you can just get out now.”
    “I’m not going anywhere,” she said.
    “Then tell me your goal. Tell me what you’ll be working on,” Ian said.
    “Nothing! I don’t have to! Your robots will do my housework and I will do whatever I please because I am your wife and half of your income is mine. Half of your assets, too.” She turned, pulled a bottle of vodka out of the freezer and walked to the living room.
    Ian watched her walk. She was heavier now but the animal spirit that he longed to dominate was still there under the flab. It was in the movement of the hips. No, it was the upper body, too. The