How My April's Fool Prank Made Me Single (And Helped Me Find True Love)

Last year my boyfriend, on April's Fools Day, had his friends, in the local police department, to prank arrest me and I vowed to get even. The trumped up charge was embezzling from his company, which I've never worked at. So, I schemed for the whole year and finally everything is ready. He will wish he'd never messed with Malina Reynosa and if it's a bit over the top, then, he just might dump me.

I'm sitting in the airport's security office, where my very best friend, Mark Summers, is watching the monitors and will radio to the rest of the security detail when he spots Anthony, my boyfriend. He holds up a hand, stilling my mouth, and he speaks into the radio's mike.

“Dwayne, Anthony is on your Six and wearing a silvery-gray business suit, with a maroon tie and carrying a Louis Vuitton travel bag, in one hand, along with a black, leather briefcase, in the other. Don't say anything, to him, except that he's to come with you. Put your hand on your Glock and lead him here with your other hand holding his elbow. That should give him pause for alarm.”

“Roger.”

I watched, over Mark's shoulder, as the guard, on the monitor, ushers Anthony to the room that I am stationed in and I quickly ask Mark where I am to hide. He points to the filing cabinet, in the corner, and tells me to pull the stacked boxes, by it, around me. I hurry to do so and when I am fully hidden the guard knocks on the door. I have a device, which Mark handed me earlier, that ties remotely into the monitoring system, and at this very moment it's linked to the camera that monitors the security office. I have the sound down, because I can easily hear every word, as Mark tells the guard the door is open.

“Here's the suspect that you wanted.”

“Suspect? What Suspect? What am I a suspect of?” Anthony's voice cracks, showing that he's starting to become frightened.

Mark stands and points to his, now, vacated chair. “Sit down! I will ask the questions around here!”

“Not until you tell me what's going on,” Anthony begins to grow agitated.

Mark grabs Anthony, by the nape of his neck, and slams his chest into the monitoring desk, then holds his head, so that his cheek is squashed against the desktop. I almost gasp, but clamp my hand over my mouth. Now, I'm wondering if this was such a good idea or not.

“Let go of me, right now,” Anthony demands, sounding like he has a mouthful, of mush. “I'll sue the airport for this.”

“The only thing you will be doing is going to prison, if I find you're carrying anything you're not supposed to be, Mister!”

“Like what? All I have are my clothes and the documents that I need for work.”

“Likely story! I have a BOLO of a perp, fitting your description, right down to the color of your undies.”

“My undies? You're crazy! Did someone put you up to this? Oh my GOSH! I know you! How could I forget? You're Malina's friend. She put you up to this!”

“Yes, I know Malina,” Mark avers making me about have a heart attack. I am about ready to stand up, when his next words stop me. “I think what you did to her was dirty pool, Man, but this here,” He places his own face just mere inches from Anthony's, “This is my job and my job is taking scum that terrorize others, like the good people that pass through here, down and making them pay.”

“Terrorize...”

Mark cuts off Anthony's next words, “Yes, terrorize! Are you a damn parrot?”

“I...I...I...”

“Geez, now you're a damn broken parrot.”

“GET OFF ME,” Anthony starts struggling, but Mark, whom was military trained, is a lot stronger.

My mouth gapes open, behind my hand that is trying to keep my frequent gasps from being overheard, when Mark pulls his service pistol from his holster. I'm willing my thoughts into Mark's head, trying to tell him that threatening him with a gun is going a bit too far. What if something should go wrong? Yes, I'm not sure I want to be with Anthony any longer, but I don't want him dead and not because of me.

Mark looks at the camera and stares directly into my eyes, then aggressively shoves the gun back into the holster. He scowls at the camera before turning his attention back to his suspect. I breathe a silent sigh of relief and watch, as Mark, with his hand fisted in the back of Anthony's blazer, slams him into the chair.

“Sit there, while I check your things out.” He then radio's for a Hector, to come to the security office, and when the man shows up, Mark has him keep an eye on Anthony.

I can tell by the grin that Mark has, which Anthony isn't privy to, that Mark is having, too, much fun, while he's slinging articles of clothing all over the place. I have to cut off a groan, as a pair of briefs land on my head. I pull them down and am struck with a scent of perfume. What in the world? There is no reason, under the sun, that they should be smelling of perfume...unless...I close my eyes and inhale slowly, releasing the breath, just as slowly. I open my eyes, drop the briefs into my lap, and continue watching the scene unfold.

“Hmmm, so you're cheating on Malina?” My head snaps up and I lower my gaze back to the monitoring device. Can Mark really hear my thoughts?

“That's none of your business!”

“Maybe so, but I think it's her business; Don't you?” Mark, then, holds up something and lets it unfold, until it is dangling, and I'm unable to stop the gasp.

“Who else is in here,” Anthony demands to know. He glances around and bellows, “Where are they?”

“I find no contraband or anything that can be used for terrorism.”

“I told you that to begin with, you douchebag!”

“Who are you calling a douchebag? At least I'm not the one cheating on the sweetest girl in the world.”

“Those condoms were probably in there from the last time Malina went to a convention with me. She does like to have safe sex, you know.”

“I wouldn't know, but let me call her and find out when that was. Oh ho, what's this,” Mark pulls another object from Anthony's briefcase and reads the tag that is inserted inside the item. “Size 2, hmm, who wears size to panties? Dude, are you boinking a stick?”

“You are so crass!”

“I'd rather be crass, than a dumb ass, stick boinker,” Marks comeback has me snorting, while trying to hold my laughter in.

I can't take anymore and I stand, causing Mark's eyes to shift in my direction, which Anthony notices and he turns his head.

“I knew she put you up to this! You all are going to pay so hard for this!”

I walk forward, stopping beside the chair, and drop the perfumey briefs into Anthony's lap.

“Happy April's Fool Day. But I guess the fool was me...for about 5 years, huh? Even if Mark hadn't found the condoms, your crotch gave you away.”

“My crotch?”

“When you cheat on your next significant other, tell your bimbos not to get their perfume on your clothing or your skin.” I bend over giving Anthony a good look at my cleavage, as I pick up the discarded briefs, “Take a good look, Tony Ony, because that will be the last time you will ever get to see them.” I lift the crotch of his brief's to his nose, “Smell that? That is the smell of a man being tossed to the curb.”

I wink at Mark and high five Hector, as I walk out of the security office. I can hear Mark telling Anthony to pick up his crap and get out of his sight. I stop by the wall opposite the closed door and Anthony can be heard grumbling, as the door opens and Mark walks out. I lean, nonchalantly against the wall and watch, with languid eyes, how Mark's toned body looks, as he walks up to me. I've forever had a crush on him in elementary school, which never dissipated in high school, but now the feelings have grown, since adulthood. I never acted on those feelings, because either of us, was always in a relationship whenever the other was single.

“I think that went well.”

“Depends on what your definition of well is,” I say, with a grimace, “You do know that I'm going to lose my home, now that I am no longer in a relationship with a multi-millionaire? Well, not that many zeros in his income, but one of these days, there may be.”

“Do you regret kicking him to the curb?”

“Naw, it was only a matter of time. Deep down I knew that he was up to something. Maybe his prank last year was him trying to get me to leave him, but failed to make me. No, I'm glad he's going to be out of my life. Well, let's just see if he wants visitations to the dog and cat. If he doesn't then I'll rejoice fully.”

A woman rounds the corner and hands Mark a sheaf of paper, “Here's the document you wanted. It's signed, sealed, and delivered,” She glances at me, “You're Malina, right?” I nod and she adds, “I don't think that Mr. Milton will ever be bothering you or this airport about what went down today.”

“How so,” I query, furrowing my brow in puzzlement.

“That,” She points to the document, “is a notarized waiver, signed by one Mr. Milton, that states he will not sue the airport or any affiliate with said airport, over anything that transpired today. It states that he understands that the security personnel were just doing their job.” She holds up a manila folder, “Inside this is the issued BOLO, a description of the terrorist in question, a photo of Mr. Milton, and a list of real terrorists that closely resemble Mr. Milton. So, now, that all bases are covered, I'm on my way to file these with the proper channels.” She winks at me, before walking away, “Good luck on your new love life.” The cryptic look that she sends Mark's way has me wondering what she means.

I cross my arms as I, once again, face Mark, “What new love life? And, how did his signature get on that document?”

Mark scuffles his foot and then looks back up at me, with a small grin, “That was just wishful thinking on, Margie's part, and the how is a secret that must remain secret, for now. But, be assured that the signature is, indeed, very real. ”

“Good to know that no one broke the law, in order to pull this prank off; Mark, wishful thinking for what,” I have an idea, but I want him to say it. No, I need to hear him say it.

“She's hoping that you and I can get together, so that I'll stop crying on her shoulder over you.”

 “Oh, really?”

“Can I help it? Look at you! I've been crazy about you ever since Kindergarten, the day that you made me eat the cookie that you baked with your mom.”

“Funny,” I say, “I've been crazy for you since that day, too, when you lied and told me that it tasted good.”

He throws up his hands, in exasperation, “What? It did taste good. I happen to love salty food.”

We laugh, as we hug, and my eyes go closed, as Mark's mouth descends upon mine and his tongue claims me, as his own.