"Just pick up the pieces." That's all Darlene told herself she had to do. The question was could she?

They'd met upon a blue moon and they parted on a clouded day. Eighteen months. That's how long their relationship lasted...before the incident occurred.

The old saying rang true, "Love is a many splendid thing." At least it was for John.

He possessed a face full of chiseled features, steel blue eyes, and flaming locks of auburn hair. What woman could resist his charms? This free-loving ladies' man set the world on fire. And it burned bright.

But, the green-eyed monster reared its ugly head. Leaving a never-ending trail of heartaches in its wake. However, Darlene was nobody's fool.

She strutted like a proud peacock in heat. Right into Cabanera's. One hip at a time. Turning every head, including John's. Dressed in her finest chiffon, and matching high heels, Darlene knew how to take what she was given and milk it dry.

It was every man for himself as Darlene seated herself on a stool. She ordered a beer. The bartender served it to her with a certain twinkle in his eyes.

He wiped his hands on a towel and thought to himself, "Man, I could take my sweet time exploring a delightful dish like her. Yowzer!"

Darlene peeled at the label on the bottle. Deliciously, she licked her long fingers with each tiny piece she tore off. The room was hers and she worked the crowd into a frenzy.

"What have I done?" John bemoaned to himself. He glanced at the torch who sat across the table from him.

Somehow the little tart wasn't all she'd seemed to be when they made mad, passionate, amore in their rented motel room. Nor was she his first sordid affair.

From her throne at the bar, Darlene stared at John and wondered, "As good as I was to you is this the thanks I get?"

The flame John'd picked up along the way quickly burned out in his mind. Gone was the desire he thought he'd found in her. And she knew it. She poured her unfinished sangria over the top of his head then stormed out of the bar. The surprised patrons laughed at her performance. Who wouldn't?

Now was Darlene's chance, and she seized the opportunity. Grabbing her drink, and a handful of napkins off the bar, she sashayed over to John's table. But, was it unrequited love that made her act? Or was something else moving in the air?

"I should hate you for hurting me, John," she softly purred to him using the napkins to dry his face.

"Can you really forgive me for what I did to you, Darlene?" he asked.

On the jukebox, Conway Twitty sang, "I see the want to in your eyes."

Darlene hugged John tightly. She wanted to.

They departed the lively bar. Outside, they climbed into Darlene's baby blue Z28 Camaro. John put the ragtop down and the happy couple headed home. Passion fueled their way.

Darlene pulled into the circular drive of their suburban ranch house on the far side of town. They exited the car, walking arm-in-arm to the door John unlocked and opened wide.

Darlene entered the house in front of him. John tossed the key up in the air and caught it like he was all that and a bag of chips. Then he closed the door behind him. One thought on his mind. It would be his last.

Without speaking a word, Darlene extracted her Saturday Night Special from the black, crushed velvet purse dangling off her shoulder. Revenge never tasted sweeter!

"Just pick up the pieces." That's all Darlene told herself she had to do.