Then bull fighting, lion fighting and rhino fighting, followed by the more modern events. Fights from behind barricades with bow and arrow. Dueling on a high wire.
The evening passed pleasantly. Frelaine escorted the girl home, the palms of his hands sticky with sweat. He had never found a woman he liked better. And yet she was his legitimate kill.
He didn’t know what he was going to do.
She invited him in and they sat together on the couch. The girl lighted a cigarette for herself with a large lighter, then settled back.
“Are you leaving soon?” she asked him.
“I suppose so,” Frelaine said. “The convention is only lasting another day.”
She was silent for a moment. “I’ll be sorry to see you go. Send roses to my funeral.”
They were quiet for a while. Then Janet went to fix him a drink. Frelaine eyed her retreating back. Now was the time. He placed his hand near the button.
But the moment had passed for him, irrevocably. He wasn’t going to kill her. You don’t kill the girl you love.
The realization that he loved her was shocking. He’d come to kill, not to find a wife.