To Win or Lose?

 

To Win or Lose?

          Crowds roared all around Tyon as she lifted her hands in triumph, having scored the winning goal for her soccer team in the World Cup. She had been exactly what the United States soccer team had needed to make it that far. Now, she was the star player and the envy of every female soccer player.

          Tyon’s dark, sea green eyes glimmered with pride at her accomplishments. She knew she was good, and she basked in the glory that her fans bestowed upon her.

          As she made her way off the field, she rolled her eyes at some of the fans who were begging for pictures and autographs…she didn’t have time. She had to make it to the hotel before the gym closed. She had decided it was a necessity to work out every night, even after a game, to ensure stretched muscles and agility at all times.

          Tyon quickly dodged the media after only allowing a few moments of questions and photos. She jumped into her little sports car and made it back to the hotel with plenty of time to spare, and worked out the aches in her body for the next hour.

          Once she was showered and dry, Tyon flopped across her bed and sighed deeply. As much as she loved all the publicity of being a professional soccer player, she always found it leaving her feeling empty and exhausted.

          She leaned over to her side table and found herself staring into a picture of an average looking girl with vibrant gold-red hair, dark sea-green eyes and lightly tanned skin. Tyon snorted as she saw the headline beneath the picture of herself.  “Tyon�"Win or lose?” It had seemed the whole world and been against her joining up with the team so late in the season. She smirked with a nasty laugh at the thought she had just proved the whole world wrong. At 20 years old, she, a girl who had been orphaned twice, had done what everyone thought was impossible.

          Tyon dropped the magazine and rolled over to look at the ceiling.  ‘They were all wrong.’  She thought bitterly. ‘Whoever my real parents were gave up a good kid without knowing…but, my adopted ones knew and were STILL wrong.  Wasn’t it perfect for them to die before I proved it?’ Tears formed in her eyes and she buried her face into a pillow and cried herself to sleep with memories of her life before everything changed.

 

 

 

         

          Keeva sat staring out the window, fingering a pencil and tapping it on the desk in front of her. IT was the sound of the chimes from the Abby that aroused her from her thoughts. She looked up sharply at the girls sitting before her.

          “All of you are dismissed for the day. Be sure to turn in your homework before you go. Chapter 2 is due Monday.” Her voice was crisp and sharp as she spoke. The girls’ slowly filed out of the room and Keeva buried her face in her hands. 

          “18 long years in an orphanage, cared for by a bunch of ol’ ladies and all I can do now is care for a bunch of stuck up prisies! Oh!” she growled between her teeth.

          Keeva had been a fast learner and took to reading anything she could get her hands on. The Abbey took pity on her and began tutoring her in Proper English, Philosophy, Literature and many others. She was grateful for it, but found herself bitter towards anyone who had been raised in a family, by their real parents.

          She sighed and reluctantly packed up her papers and walked towards the small, broken down cottage that she lived in towards the outskirts of one of the few bigger cities in Scotland. Once there, she hung up her coat and sat down at the counter and picked up one of the few magazines she collected. She looked skeptically at the front of it. ‘Tyon�"Win or lose?’

          “Huh…don’t see why she wouldn’t win. The lass’ has everything! I wish I had just half of it.” She shook her head and made herself some hot chocolate. “I do feel sorry for her, though.” She said to herself. “Having parents one day, then have them gone the next…” she paused and shook her head before adding, “Scratch that…at least she had them!” she threw the magazine in the fireplace and used it to start one.  Once the fire was blazing, she sat down in her one, well-used chair, picked up a book and buried herself deep within to avoid her own thoughts, stopping only to take a sip of her hot chocolate.

 

 

 

          Xander sat at an open, round table in his shop that lived down one of the darker allies in the city. A T.V. screen sat up on the white wall showing reporters and camera-men getting pictures of the winning team of the World-Cup. He smirked slightly feeling very pleased about placing the winning bet.

          He continued dwelling on these thoughts while he carefully took apart the pistol that sat in front of him on the table.  He cleaned each part almost lovingly and tossed around an idea of creating a special silencer for it with his newly won money.

          Xander was so immersed in his thoughts that he did not hear the door open and someone walk in. There was a sickening sound of a gun cocking, and it was only in that instant that he snapped back into reality. With one swift motion, Xander pulled another gun from his belt, spun and pointed it inches away from his attackers face. Each stood, the others’ gun pointed in their face, staring blankly at one another. Finally, the newcomer’s face cracked a smile and Xander’s face went pale with a mixture of emotions.

          “Holy, freaking eh, Wren, I almost shot you!” Xander’s voice was a mixture of anger, shock and amusement. Wren, however, laughed and un-cocked his gun. 

          “You should have seen the look on your face, Man! It was priceless…Do you have cameras in here? I want a copy of that.” Wren sat himself down beside Xander and pointed up at the T.V. screen. “So did they win?” His Irish accent seeped through his words and Xander responded with the same thick accent.

          “Aye…Good thing I placed my bet right. I’m getting some good money off that one.” Wren smirked slightly at the mention of his friends’ bet and then grew serious.

          “I have a favor to ask of you, Xander.”

Xander looked up at him with an eyebrow raised.  “Who wins and who looses?”

Wren grinned devilishly. “My boss out in London.” Xander coughed slightly.

“You mean the Chief of police?” Wren nodded. “By when?”

“Tomorrow night.”

Xander glared at him from beneath his shaggy, brown hair. “Why so soon…You know I hate last minute jobs.”

Wren leaned forward and lowered his voice. “You’ll be paid big…”

“How big?”

“400 grand.”

Xander’s eyes lit up. “Tell me all you know…”

Their conversation lasted for the next hour. At the end Xander asked, “You never did say who the winner of this all was…whoever it is must really want the Chief out of the way.” Wren’s clear green eyes sparkled as he shrugged.

“A lot of people want him out of the way…everyone benefits from it.”

“And let me guess…you get the promotion.” Xander tapped his head. “See…I know you.”

“I would hope so,” Wren said grinning. “You’ve only known me all our lives.” Xander laughed a hearty laugh and Wren joined in.

After sharing a few more laughs about life, Wren stood to go. “I’d better leave before any of your clients come in and see me here. I still need to be able to do my job. I do have a reputation to keep…”

Xander nodded, then added as he clapped Wren on the back, “You scratch my back, I scratch yours…To win or lose?”

Wren looked a little disconcerted but said without hesitation, “To win…always…”  Xander’s eyes brightened and he smiled at his friend, who smiled back before turning and leaving.