http://www.activemuse.org/2021_Collections/Vasant_2021/Stories/Suzanne_Martinez.html

Published by Active Muse, Crime Issue, Spring 2021.

Click on the link above to read the story or read the story below..

[WARNING: The narrator is a sociopath whose actions may be offensive to some readers.]

A Perfect Smile

Whenever I saw the picture of my unlined face in my little cell, I smiled. Thirty-five years have passed since that photograph was taken. I’m using it for my obituary. I already asked the warden, and he promised. I usually got what I wanted. 

Even as a boy, my mom favored me over my little brother.By the third grade, I was taller than her. I got more treats and presents too, until she left. I always knew I was special and way smarter than my teachers. When I was in college ROTC, the Navy chose me for the special dentist-training program. I had one piss-ass problem though. The military made the participants repay the cost of training with six years of clinical service in ‘underserved’ communities. 

I despised my clinic above a Korean deli in Brooklyn. Half the appointments were no shows; the patients neglected their teeth. 

“How should I label the missed appointments? The state requires a record or you won’t get credit.” My dithering assistant never stopped pestering me.

I closed my eyes. “Call them dis–appointments.” 

Why the hell did they hire people with presumed experience, such as my assistant, if they continually asked me to fix every goddamned thing for them? I needed the practice to haul in big bucks, so I could repay my loan, find that special girl, get married, and start a family. When I met the ONE, I didn’t want to wait an extra minute for the complete happiness I deserved. 

For a tall, good-looking, accomplished man like me, washing one dish every night was just tragic. I wasn’t a half-wit loser like my brother and the rest of my family. 

My phone buzzed—TALL Club of NYC. 

“Hello. Dr. Carnassial speaking,” I said.

“You’ve cleared the background check. Congratulations. You’re officially a member of the Club. Few non-athletes meet our height criteria. As a dentist, a professional, you’ll be a big draw. I hope to see you tomorrow at our meet-up at the Beer Authority on West 40th.” 

When I arrived at the place, a perfect dive bar where high booths and low lighting easily hid intentions, I knew I’d made the right choice moving to New York City. The variety of women I could look in the eye at the mixer was impressive. Short females weren’t worth my attention. I walked over to a woman who stood six-foot-three in flats.

“Hi. I’m Brenda.” Her smile displayed a perfect set of teeth and her blonde hair shone. “You’re worth the cost of admission.”