The stone-cold bitch of a woman he married held an antimatter gun of his own making in one hand and a flooblegarb cigarette in another. A lone pendant lamp blinked up above, casting long shadows across her features. Her aquiline nose, her high cheekbones, thin strands of bright orange hair framed her face from where they'd escaped from her high bun. Sunglasses shielded her green eyes. They were necessary for this planet's deadly levels of radiation but Rick couldn't lie and say their cool factor wasn't a turn-on either. Her red lipstick shimmered in the chrome reflection of the pistol in her hand as she blew smoke rings. Diane adored the theatre of their work. She always insisted on a fitted suit and tie for these meetings where Rick settled for some slacks and a halfway-buttoned-up button-up.
Rick stood in the shadows, only a slight glint hitting the hilt of his own firearm. Diane leaned in toward the alien and pressed her cigarette into his slimy cheek.
'I—I—I swear! I don't know!' He squealed and fluids started to leak onto his chair.
Rick guffawed. 'Dude, are you actually pissing your pants?'
Diane ignored him. 'Maybe this'll jog your memory.' She shot his knee. Or, some kind of appendage Rick assumed was the equivalent of a knee. The alien shrieked and bled orange.
A pair of security guards knew to take her gun and its victim away before she said a word but something else had Rick's attention. The henchmen on the walkie-talkie system came bearing bad news. 'Babe! We have a code red!'
She was a blur of orange as her head whipped back to their captor being dragged away from his bloodied chair. 'Friends of yours?'
The alien replied with a weak smile. 'I have no idea what you're talking about.'
'Diane, quit it!' Rick tugged at her arm. 'We don't have time!'
She cocked her head with hooded eyes, her voice sultry. 'And here I thought you loved it when I draw it out.'
The beginning of a smirk was tamped out by Rick's sense of urgency. 'Just get that ass in the car, honey.' He tossed his gun to her before he revved the engine. As if on cue, the Federation hovercraft were blaring their sirens as they crashed through their underground HQ. When Rick was sure their seatbelts were both on, he swerved them up and around a pair of alien skyscrapers. The two of them chuckled at the fiery explosions behind them.
Diane unbuckled herself to shoot at them through the ceiling window. Rick resisted the urge to rest his eyes on her midriff where her white button-up was untucked from her pants and flapping in the wind. Right at eyelevel was the stupid-ass cellular phone Diane insisted on bringing, like a big plastic brick, tied to her belt at her hip. It started to ring.
'Oh fuck,' said Diane.
'I got it! I got it!' With one hand still on the steering wheel, Rick reached his other one to the phone. He prayed it wasn't the sitter.
'Who is it?' said Diane, motherly worry straining her voice.
'It's nothing.' Rick rolled his eyes. 'It's just Beth's uppity teacher.'
'Fuck! The appointment!'
'Di, you know how I feel about school. It's an institution that pumps out morons! We should've yanked Beth outta there years ago anyways.'
'Rick! This is our daughter's schoolteacher!'
He groaned. He wasn't winning this one. 'Alright, alright.'
Rick eased the UFO into the school's driveway. Diane was scrambling out as soon as the wheels touched concrete. 'How do I look? Any blood on my clothes?'
'I think you know the answer to that one, babe.' He winked.
Diane groaned. 'Rick you know what I meant. I don't want us looking like nutjobs to Mrs Phillips.'
'Hey! What's a nutjob to a nutjob?'
She rolled her eyes. 'Yes, yes, everyone's a cog in the machine of bureaucracy, you don't respect them. We don't have time for your monologues.'
'Wait. You have glass in your hair.' He could feel her breath on the palm of his hand as he reached out to comb his fingers through her dishevelled hair. Her big green eyes looked up at him. 'And I mean it. You're smokin'.'
She snorted and brushed him away. 'Come on, old man.'
'Uh, better stow that one away.' Rick eyed the gun still in Diane's hands.
'Right.' She ran over to leave it in the trunk. Rick could still remember when he first taught her how to use a gun. How much she hated the sound, the recoil. Not long before, he'd learnt how to himself. Now their guns were like extensions of themselves.
He looped an arm around her shoulders as they walked up the steps to the elementary school. He repressed a shudder as they crossed the all-too familiar corridor into an equally stereotypical classroom. Rick wasn't joking when he said he hated school, enough that the memories sent shudders even as he walked through one as an adult.
'Mr and Mrs Sanchez.' Sweet old Mrs Phillips' smile faltered at the sight of them. Their hair was singed, some of their clothes burnt or torn off. 'You… Are you both alright?'
Rick put on his brightest grin. 'Another day another dollar! You know how it goes.' He crossed his legs and leaned back into his chair as Diane's shoulders tensed.
Phillips' brows knit. 'Now what was it you said you did?'
'Advertising,' said Rick.
'Real-estate,' said Diane.
'Uh-huh.' The woman gaped and looked between them.
Rick cleared his throat. 'Now, I don't—Don't wanna be rude b-but we're busy people Mrs Phillips.'
Phillips nodded and crossed her hands on her desk. 'Of course, Mr Sanchez. I called because I'm worried about Beth. She's struggling.'
'No way. She's a genius. Trigonometry, physics, mechanics. Nothing'll stump her. She takes a-after her father that way.' Rick's self-assured grin was sincere this time. As much as he hoped Diane was amused by it, he could already predict her eye-roll.
Phillips didn't seem to react to Rick's antics. 'Yes, she has an excellent acuity for numbers and logic, that much is clear.'
Diane leaned in at the edge of her seat, her voice was soft, almost sad. 'If it's not her grades, then what is it?'
'She's struggling to make friends. This last recess would be the third time this week she got into a shouting match with a fellow student. I worry for her social and emotional well-being.'
'So what? If she doesn't get along with 'em she doesn't get along with 'em. They're beneath her.'
'Rick,' Diane hissed.
'Mr Sanchez, I regret to inform you that this afternoon your daughter gave another student a black eye.'
Diane gasped, but Rick wasn't moved. 'Who started it?'
'Rick!' said Diane.
'Is… Is everything alright at home?' said Phillips in a small, saccharine tone.
Rick burst out of his seat. 'What kind of question is that!'
Diane looked to her shoes and muttered, 'Well, we may be spending too many late nights at work lately.'
'Di, don't dignify it with an answer!'
'Mr Sanchez! Calm yourself! Please!'
'I tell ya no one gave a shit about emotional well-being back when I was Beth's age!'
Diane shouted in a despaired fury he'd never seen on her before. 'THIS IS NOT ABOUT YOU!'
'Mr and Mrs Sanchez. I understand that this is difficult news, but I regret to inform you that if this happens again, Beth will have to face consequences. She could be expelled.'
'We will talk to her, Mrs Phillips.' Diane rose and rested a firm hand to Rick's shoulder. 'And I'm sorry about my husband's outburst.' Diane flicked him in the back of the head for good measure.
'So very sorry.' Rick rolled his eyes.
'I'll drive us back,' Diane insisted as they rushed to the car.
'No problem with me.' Rick shrugged as he climbed into the passenger's seat but as Diane started the engine, he could feel the car's oppressive silence start to suffocate him. 'Can you believe her?'
'I can't believe you!'
'What? I'm standing up for her! I won't have them c-call Beth a freak just because she doesn't let them w-walk all over her. What! What!? Stop looking at me like that!'
'Rick… maybe we should start thinking of retiring the business.' Their drug cartel. Their K-lax empire. This was their life's work! And they both knew how much Diane herself adored it. Rick didn't dare protest out loud, knowing all too well that he was the selfish, petty one and Diane was the sensible one. Of course, their daughter was more important than drugs and intergalactic shootouts. Still he couldn't help but resent Diane for saying it out loud. For being the first to leave. It was as if she were abandoning him. Giving up everything they'd worked for. Another, deeper, part of him didn't want to admit that he was scared, more scared of raising his own daughter, of fucking her up the same way his parents did, than being shot by space-cops. Fuck him and fuck Diane for being so well-adjusted. He said nothing.
'Well, if you won't, I will.' Diane was looking straight ahead. 'Beth deserves at least one parent in her life.'
