Sunday, October 09, 2005

Jolted or Jilted?

...continued "It must be hard knowing you married a stalker" and "unsurprising angst" part3

The day had fizzled hours ago and the 10 stretched out endlessly in the sleek desert. My 3 Series rumbled quietly in the desert, followed only by a few tour busses filled with blue haired ancients, but they were miles behind as I cruised to 110 mph easily, shift, cruise control, tap. The dufflebag of $20,000, not-so-easily earned, but earned all the same, glinted in the naked moonlight.

A serene lonliness enveloped me as I pushed a new CD into the stereo and cranked it loud. A new Go phone lay on the soft cool leather seat. No one had the phone number yet, but I left it out anyway. A photo with his picture was also lying there. How did I kill him? I could barely recollect those last moments of his life.

Think golden lights and new opportunities. I can retire.

The words were hollow, no one really retired from the business. Except when you were lying face down, jaw crushed, fingertips missing, crushed in a chemical barrel.

I shruddered and pasted a smile on.

The night welcomed me with open arms and I felt more secure in the dark anyway. The trip was hella long, but if I could get identified on a camera or two, I might be safe from the inevitable questions. At least his widow would get the insurance money. I shook my head; I didn't have to excuse my actions. I never had before . . . him.

The night wore on.

His eyes fluttered in the bright lights, and then the burning pain in the center of his chest made him wince.

"Jason, can you hear us?"

Who the hell was that? Where the hell was he?

Extreme pain flushed through him as he tried to move.

"Aghh! Dammit I hear you fine. Where the hell am I?"

"Sir, you've been shot. Don't move, we didn't want to start you on morphine just yet. Did you see who did this to you? Do you have anyone who wants to see you dead?" said the man in the black jacket, pen and notepad held out.

Of course he knew.

"She's hotter than hell. Short and fiery. . . "



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