RAISE YOUR HAND

Chapter 4

She scored...a job! She scored a job and it felt amazing. Her hours would be from eight in the morning until three in the afternoon. Perfect for getting home in time to clean and fix dinner.

In two days, her life was going to change. Hopefully, for the better. Hopefully, David would be pleased with her announcement. Today was beyond successful. She couldn't erase her smile if she wanted to.

Trinity stirred the Spanish rice and finished the taco meat. All she needed to do was arrange the rest of the fixings and set everything onto the table. He would be home soon.

Deciding against changing out of the pink dress saved her time to be able to finish a few more items on her chore list and be ready at the door when David came home.

For some reason, her heart was beating a little faster than it normally did. Please be happy. Please be in a good mood. The sound of the car door slamming shut and the jiggle of the door knob seemed louder than normal. David came in not sparing her a glance, swinging the front door shut with a bang. Oh no. He was in a bad mood.

"Welcome home," she smiled wider if that was even possible.

With a grunt, he threw his keys into the dish then unlaced his boots tossing them toward the door.

"I have great news." Trinity followed him into the kitchen.

David sat down at the table not bothering to wash his hands or remove his gun. Why didn't he remove his gun? That wasn't like him. Her throat instantly dry, she tried to swallow against it to no avail.

Quietly, she sat down across from him and arranged her skirts while she waited for him to pile his plate with food. Once he was done, she filled hers. Not too much, not too little.

"I found a job like you asked me to," she said soft.

"Where?"

"An office."

David looked up, his fork mid-way to his mouth. Trinity watched a few grains of rice, perched at the end of his fork tines, fall to the table. His hand looked a little shaky. Was he high again?

"No shit, Sherlock. I fucking asked you where."

"Oh. I-I-I'm s-s-sorry."

David rolled his eyes. "Jesus fucking christ, Trinity. S-s-spit it out."

"V-v-venturi Transportation," she rushed.

"Venturi Transportation," he thought a moment before his eyes widened. "Transportation?" he slammed his fork down. "I fucking told you to get a job in an office. How can you tell me that's an office? Transportation? How 'bout trucking? I know that company. You're not fooling me. It's a fucking trucking company."

What? No it wasn't. Why couldn't he just look it up? Why was he doing this? Why did he ever do this? Should she tell him it wasn't? Should she show him?

"N-n-no, David. It really is an office. I can show you on my phone," Trinity slid out of her seat.

"Sit the fuck down. The fuck you think you're doing? This is the dinner table. This is dinner time. We're eating dinner. What is wrong with you?!"

Drops of sweat gathered at his temples. His eyes strained wild in no particular direction. Then he did what she expected him to do. What he's done before. With one fell swoop of his arm, he cleared the table of all the hard work she had put into the meal. All of it. Food was scattered everywhere over the floor. It would be her responsibility to clean the mess he just made. Hopefully, he wouldn't overturn the table again.