Eight

Walking down these alleyways must have been very different for the both of us, for a start, I knew where we were going. Or at least I knew the general direction.  The girl was seeing late night liquor stores and pretty ladies smoking strong cigarettes across the sidewalk. I knew for a fact that they were w***e houses. Most of the girls would slam on an extra hundred dollar charge if you complimented them pretty.

Consider it like going out to dinner with your parents when you were younger. Everything appeared as it was. The cutlery layed out neatly on sociable tables. The wine glasses you filled with cola and pretended to sip from eloquently like a grown up. The friendly waiter from Italy who couldn't resist pinching your cheeks. Revisit the same restaurant but you're twenty years older. You notice when the cutlery is dirty. After a few glasses of wine it becomes clear that the only cheeks the waiter wants to get his hands on is the sixteen year old girl sat with her mother on the booth seats next to you.

That is what happens when you become an adult and the sooner you wise up the quicker you realise what a backwards and fucked up world we all live in. I hoped this girl was still seeing everything through innocent eyes, blissfully unaware of the ill flux of humanity. I wasn't so sure. We quietly turned right onto Revere Street leaving the midnight pandemonium of backsliders and broken bottles behind us. 

My car was settled in an overflow parking lot behind a convenience store. After a quick inspection underneath it to make sure no one else had a plan to mess up my day further, I opened the passenger door and gestured for the girl to get in. She looked up at me. Her eyes were dirty dollar green. They were tired and heavy from old mascara but they were beautiful. I got into the drivers seat and noticed that the girl staring down at her knees. In her hands she was clasping onto something tightly. It was none of my business.

I started the engine and wondered what on earth we were doing.

I drove south on interstate fifteen somewhere between forty and sixty mph. Not fast enough to warrant being pulled over but not suspiciously slow either. The musty air inside the car was only host to the sound of awkward, stepped breathing and faulty air conditioning. The girl seemed to be transfixed by the hot glow of garish neons that littered the increasingly distant strip. I tried to ease the atmosphere a little by passing small comments on big buildings.

I failed. She couldn't understand a word I was saying. She didn't respond to any of my false reassurances. She didn't know what I meant by drug mule. She didn't recognise the saying "what happens in Vegas." We had been travelling on fifteen for ten minutes and every so often I would glance over at the girl and wonder what she was thinking.

 At first I noticed the strong backlighting of her hair. Then a white glare appeared in the wing mirror beside her. It was getting brighter. I clicked my head up at my rear view and tried to focus my eyes on the light. At that instant, a squall of bullets took out the back window entirely. I swerved left and swatted my right foot down onto the gas pedal hard.

What happened in Vegas needs to stop following me.

Author's Note

First time writing since I could scrawl my name in joined up handwriting.

Reviews

[Robin]

great prelude , lets see more of this cool story ,

[.]

This is interesting read here and quite the intriguing write as well I like this.

[bbb]

This makes for an intriguing write, anxious to see what will happen next.