The Housewife Assassin's Killer Christmas Tips by Josie Brown

to share you… with him .”
    He’s halfway to the staircase when I shout, “No, that’s not why you’re upset. You’re pissed because you had to share her with him.”
    This stops him cold.
    He turns back around. His eyes look so sad, so pained.
    I want to say I’m sorry, to run into his arms, to beat him with my fists so that he gets it. I only love him. I only want him.
    And I want him to feel the same about me.
    But I say nothing.
    We hold the gaze we share for what seems like an eternity, until he mutters, “Carl only loves one thing. Power. Too bad you haven’t already figured that out.” He shrugs. “But you’ve always been slow on the uptake right?”
    He turns back around and heads back toward the stairs.
    At some point, the waffle iron must have beeped again, but I didn’t hear it.
    I open it to find Mickey’s latest offering charred and petrified.
    I unplug the waffle iron. I’m tempted to throw it at Jack, but he’s too far away.
    Instead, I shout up to the kids, to hurry up before they’re late for school.
     

     
    By the time I get to Acme, Jack is already there. I’ve got to admit, he’s right about one thing. Carl can’t be trusted. That said, I’ve brought the iPads and Trisha’s doll with me so that Arnie can sweep the toys for bugs. If the items are cleared, they’ll go back under the tree.
    If not, I’ll have to replace them, which means more time elbowing my way through the Apple store, and getting back on eBay to outbid all the other mommies freaking over the Furby du jour .
    Ryan and Jack are holed up in Ryan’s office. I know Jack well enough to recognize all the signs that he’s irritated about something. He’s not smiling. He’s got his back up against the wall, literally. His fists are balled up and stuck deeply into his pants pockets. If his eyes were knives, Ryan would be sliced and diced into small pieces by now.
    I presume they’re talking about me.
    This is practically confirmed when Ryan glances over at me. Without even a wave, he strolls over to the Venetian blinds and turns them so that he and Jack can conduct their business in private.
    Okay, be that way.
    Something tells me the subject has nothing to do with my resemblance to Pippa.
    I can live with that.
    What I can’t live with is the thought that Jack actually thinks Carl means anything to me.
    Or that I’m right, and Valentina still means a lot to Jack.
    Or that Jack is requesting a transfer.
    If that’s the case, I’ll be broken-hearted.
    So will the kids.
    This is all Carl’s fault. The son of a bitch knew exactly what he was doing when he dropped off those gifts. He was goading Jack into doubting me.
    Well, he’s succeeded. For now. Until I get him in my sites again. Then he better run.
    But he won’t be able to hide.
    I’m not just a woman scorned. I’m a woman fighting for the best thing that ever happened to her, ex be damned.
    My Technicolor revenge fantasy fades into black-and-white reality when Ryan hollers, “Stone! Get in here.”
    I smile pretty and wave casually, but all the while, my heart and head are pounding.
    I need time to think things out, to recoup, and to get a grip.
    Let’s face it. I need a vacation.
     

     
    “So, what you’re telling me is that Jack and I will be spending three days on a luxury Sapphire Cruise ship as it makes its way from Cabo San Lucas to Los Angeles?”
    Ryan nods solemnly. “We received intel last night that one of the missing MANPADs is being transported on the ship. Your job is to search and seize.”
    “Works for me.” Yes! Yes! A few days of fun and sun.
    With Jack, no less.
    Or, maybe not. Usually I’d see that ghost of a smile on his lips indicating he’ll enjoy this assignment as much as I would. But right now, he won’t even look at me.
    “This isn’t any ordinary cruise,” Ryan continues. “It’s being chartered by Greg Lardner.”
    Of course, the name is familiar to me. “You mean the Silicon Valley venture