Free Caught in the Devil's Sheets by Jesse Johnson

microwave.
    “What’s up?” he asks as I take a seat at the table.
    “What’s up with you?” I ask, and the dance on egg shells for information begins.
    “Had some business at the big house,” he says, and I know that I can’t ask for any further details.
    “Everything okay?”
    “We got some business to take care of over the weekend,” he says casually, pulling his plate from the microwave and sitting across from me. Jaime has a classic bad boy look about him. Tattoos hanging out all sides of his black tank top. He sinks his teeth into the steaming hot first bite, chewing it while sucking in air to cool his mouth.
    “I got some laundry going,” I say hoping he’ll remember dumping the bloody shirt in there.
    “Cool.” Not the response I’m looking for.
    “I found a pretty beat up shirt in there,” I say trying to jog his memory.
    “It’s mine,” he says and I know he is referring to the blood not the shirt. Although he doesn’t have any obvious cuts or bruises.
    “I wasn’t sure so I went ahead and got rid of it,” I say casting a glance toward the backyard.
    “Good call.” Jaime smiles at me, and reaches a hand across the table, stroking my cheek. “How’d I get so lucky?”
    I roll my eyes at him, and we talk about my trip while he finishes eating. I clear his plate for him.
    “I have to meet with James tomorrow,” he says while I’m standing at the sink. James Devine is our lawyer. I always get nervous when we meet with him. I’m always afraid there’s going to be bad news about Jaime going to jail.
    “What time?” I ask turning around and leaning against the sink.
    “I told him you’d call him in the morning to set that up,” he says standing up and getting a beer out of the fridge.
    “You got anything else going on tomorrow?”
    “Got a run in the morning, but I should be home before noon.” He cracks the top off his beer and chugs the first half down in a few large gulps.
    I begin to make my way out to the garage to resume the laundry and he stops me. Pulling me into his arms, Jaime lays a beer-soaked kiss on my cheek.
    “I love you,” he says and his big, green, puppy-dog eyes knead at the soft spot I have for him in my heart. Jaime’s eyes are the only sweet part of him. The rest of his body is pierced up, covered in tats and tough looking. But there is softness in his eyes, especially when he looks at me this way that always manages to pull on my heart. Unfortunately I’ve seen a good amount of evil in these same eyes.
    I plant another kiss on his lips and then take the beer from his hand. I drink down another quarter of the bottle and then hand it back to him. He releases me and I make my way into the garage and finish up the laundry for tonight. I head into our room to put all the piles away.
    Jaime jumps in the shower. When he emerges, a cloud of steam follows. He is wrapped in a towel, and I’m lying on the bed in my pajamas.
    “You wanna take those off?” he asks raising his eyebrows at me.
    I shuffle out of my pajamas and climb under the covers, lifting the sheets for him. He drops his towel and climbs into bed.
    I feel him get out of bed early in the morning. The sun is barely up. Before he heads out he kisses my forehead. It’s been a long time since I remember him doing that. Then, I fall back asleep for a few more hours.
    When I awake, I call James Devine to set up an appointment. He answers and we schedule a meet for 2:30 this afternoon. He doesn’t say anything else, and I suppose no news is good news, but I can’t help but worry. I text Jaime the meet time.
    About noon exactly, Jaime comes home and I immediately notice a huge gash on his eyebrow.
    “What happened to you?” I ask as he stalks through the kitchen.
    “Nothing,” he says shortly. “I’m going to get cleaned up.” He makes his way down the hall to our bedroom. Okay then.
    I make myself busy in the kitchen, doing the dishes and clearing the table until it’s time to leave. Jaime