10:58 PM: A tale of two shitty.

Yes, it took like a month, but i finally make a creative post again! i've been working on this thing for a week or so, and think it's kind of neat. Usually, the stuff I try to write stays off of the blog, because it's shitty, but this is actually decent. It's worth reading. I promise. It may be cliche, but I'm still in high school. Give me a break.

“I can’t fucking believe he did that! Now I’m fucked. Fucked fucked fucked. When I tell Raymond what happened he’s gonna throw me to the fucking dogs.”

As Lance sat there in the airport lobby he contemplated how he was going to handle the situation with his hit taking a dive from the 17th floor of a luxurious high rise hotel window. Raymond was going to have his balls. The rich scumbag was their only link to the money, and now that link was plastered all over a sandstone sidewalk in Miami. Lance figured there were two ways out of this predicament: crushed in a car at Joe’s with Raymond watching or gone from the Western Hemisphere. The latter seemed much more pleasant, though almost not worth the effort.

No. There had to be a way out of it.

Jana walked out of the bank with a certain satisfaction. She had played them all and left them in the dust. Nobody expects the wife of some rich fat bastard to know anything, so nobody was going to suspect her. There were too many that came form the same place as her: married to some retired businessman for his money; snorting coke and going on endless shopping sprees at the strip. But Jana was different – much smarter than that. The lard liked to talk when he was drunk and Jana was most definitely a good listener. It didn’t take long to find out the bank codes from him, all she had to do was bring out the wine coolers and he was done.
And now he was dead. How convenient. She was untouchable with an alibi and $1.3 million in her pocket.

Jana exited the cab and threw a $100 bill at the driver. “Keep the change.” She slowly walked into the airport lobby to check the flight times and sat down on a bench when she realized she still had 45 minutes. Some guy next to her was sweating intensely and talking on the phone – stuttering a lot. What a spineless fuck. Probably just getting shit from his boss.

“What do you mean you didn’t get the fucking code!? Okay…you know what? I’m giving you a day to call me back and tell me the exact opposite of what you just told me. If I tomorrow at 4:00 I don’t hear ‘Ray, I got the bank code from the fatass and the $1.3 million should be in your pocket shortly’, I will fucking kill you. You hear that Lance? You will be fucking dead. I hope you can handle yourself because trust me, you don’t want me handling you.”

Lance pressed the hang up key on his cell phone and put his hands on his face. His side was starting to hurt. It always hurt when he was under stress, a reminder of his days as a bodyguard. He took one in the ribs while rushing some asshole who decided he didn’t like getting laid off so he picked up a 9mm and tried to kill the boss. It’s kind of ironic how his job used to be to protect important people and now it was to kill them.
What the fuck was he to do? He might as well just use the extra day to get on a plane to Amsterdam and lay low for a while. He had some contacts that would keep him provided for a year until things with Raymond calmed down. Then he might start working for some locals again…his reputation would probably precede him.

“No way. No fucking way. It can’t be her.”

The woman from the picture on the wall. She was sitting right next to him with a briefcase in her lap. There’s no way this could be a coincidence. The day her husband eats concrete she decides to take a trip with a mysterious briefcase? Yeah fucking right. Lance wasn’t stupid. She knew the code and that briefcase had the money in it.

“Don’t move. You move, you get plugged in the side. Walk like nothing happened. You are my girlfriend. My arm is around you. Walk towards the bathroom. NOW.”

God damn it. The loser who was getting yelled at by his boss was now going to shoot up the whole place, starting with her. What a great way to end such a good day.

Lance pushed Jana into the bathroom stall. He pointed the gun at her face. “Give me the fucking case.” He had it. He would take it, knock her out, and be on his way to LA.

Oh no.

Jana felt the gun in her pocket. Did the idiot take her for granted or something? She squeezed the trigger 3 times. Thank God for silencers. The loser lay there in a pool of blood.

Jana walked out of the bathroom and got on the plane.

...Bitch. Feel free to tell me what you think, positive and negative.