This is my gun...

Yesterday I did blog. Despite what it appears on here. I was having difficulty with blogger yesterday so I had to blog on myspace, but I did in fact blog. For those of you who look at my blog on here, I will include yesterday's blog in today's. Today's is an extension of the little ditty from yesterday anyway.

Here she goes...

The metal gleamed in the sunlight pouring in from the small window at the top of the wall. She was a beautiful thing, too bad I’d have to dull the shine. Smooth and sleek was nice to look at, but not very practical in my line of work. Closing one eye, I used the other to sight down the barrel. I swung my body around to aim at
random items in the room.

“She’s a beaut, Ray.”

“That she is, girl, that she is.”

I laid the weapon on the counter, running my hands slowly over it. “Wrap her up.”

“Thought you might say that.” Ray pulled a case, the kind I prefer, from under the counter and got to work on putting the gun away.

Turning my back to him, my eyes took in the “store.” Not much had changed since I was a kid. A few pieces of higher technology, but other than that, the appearance was identical. Nice to know some things stay the same.

“Your pop would’ve liked this one too.”

Attention now drawn to the aging man behind the counter, I stifled a sad face. The mention of my pops always did that to me. Hardened face, I gave Ray a sly grin.
Whistling air escaped between his teeth, “That is one look I don’t want to see directed toward me again. Yet another way you’re like your old man.”

“I may have some of the same mannerisms, Ray. But I won’t go out like him.”

“No doubt about that. He taught you everything he knew. Now you have time to learn past that. Considering how good he was at his job, girl, I wouldn’t want to be on the opposite end of this where you are concerned.” He patted the gun with obvious affection.

“And that’s saying something coming from you.”

“Damn straight it is.” He handed the case over to me in exchange for the briefcase I gave him. He didn’t even open it to check. No one would dare cross him, not even me. “Now get out of here and don’t tell me where you are going.”

“Like I would anyway, ya old geezer.” I grabbed the case and made my way up the stairs. No, I wouldn’t tell him where I was going. For if I did, he wouldn’t let me walk out of here.


3 years earlier…

He was still staring at me. I fought down the urge to lash out at him. At barely eighteen, most girls knew how to deal with guys staring at them. I didn’t. “Home schooled” with an education that would turn most people’s hair white, I wasn’t prepared for the attention.

First day of college, what the hell was my pops thinking? Sending someone like me, like us, to mainstream college—it just wasn’t done. I had to admit though, that despite not being prepared socially for this, my pops had a good idea. You see, my major is criminal justice, minor in art antiquities. The possibilities of our joint venture would expand exponentially with my new found knowledge. All I had to do was get over the urge to put Mr. Google-eye in his place.

I eyed the clock, expecting something different to happen. A watched pot never boils and a class clock runs five minutes slow, guaranteed. This class was a bunch of bullshit. I don’t know why I had to be here anyway. “Freshman Orientation,” ha, what a pile they are feeding us.

I turned my head back around to the front of the class, only to have a beach ball almost hit me in the head. One hand shot out and caught the ball an inch away from my face. Curling my lip, I glared at the rainbow orb in my hand. My hand wasn’t big, but my fingers are quite dexterous. I held the ball with the tips.

Glancing at the teacher…er… professor, I schooled my expression.

“Nice catch young lady, now tell us your name and something interesting about yourself.”

Panic settled in. I don’t give information out about myself, it was a rule. Pops had registered me under my legal name though.

“Come on, we don’t bite,” assured the Prof.

“What if I do?” I replied coolly.

Mr. Google-eye snorted, directing my attention to him. He raised one eyebrow and his eyes turned to stone. Gone was the good natured flirt, arising in its place was something I recognized, something that made me feel at home. This guy was a stone cold killer.

Without taking my eyes off him, I let my predatory self show though. “Tarena. Tarena Simp.”


Since I'm on dial up now, I can't view this whole thing... I hope it is appropriate!