Post by Awesome Stick Labor on Dec 1, 2017 18:33:53 GMT
November 21, 2017 - 10:30 PM
Nearly five weeks later...
Lindsey Grawn had cherished this night for a very, very long time.
It was going to be her moment in the sun--even in the midst of darkness.
She tiptoed her way throughout the villa, wearing tight blue jeans, white tennis shoes, and a white polo T-shirt. With a .45-caliber pistol in her left hand, she was a woman on a mission. This was going to be the birthday of all birthdays, and nothing was going to stop her from making the beginning of her 26th year on this planet special. "Remember...this is THE biggest present you will have in your life," the gruff, male voice of her ex-Marine uncle Ricky pulsated through her head, making her cackle with glee on the inside.
Save for a few plug-in night lights that illuminated the hallway, the villa was dark.
It was a perfect setting for a moment five months in the making.
Inch by inch, step by step, Lindsey found her way through an open doorway and into a darkened bedroom. Holding the weapon at her left side, she smirked from ear to ear before coming to a stop near a large queen-sized bed; a small radio on its accompanying nightstand softly played the Dokken song "Felony" as the ex-campaign manager nodded her head at its ironic lyrics.
She giggled softly, then raised the gun so it was pointed squarely at the head of the bed's occupant. Like a black widow descending in the night, Lindsey Grawn was about to pull the trigger...and give her intended victim a swift and painful demise, and in her mind...it was going to be as sweet as honey mustard. She wanted her target to learn one simple lesson and pay for it with his life...
...never trust a Grawn. Then again, there was only one bullet in that chamber...but one was all she needed to do the deed and call it a night.
Except there was one minor hiccup.
A hand shot up from out of nowhere to turn an unseen switch on, and suddenly the soft glow of a lamp shined upon the face of her former employer, James Gilmore. Lindsey stood back aghast, not even realizing that whatever she was planning was about to go south in a heartbeat.
"Ya gotta kill me dudette," the Islander alum said in a gravelly, yet firm, tone of voice. "If ya wanna be a true American hero like your coward of an uncle...ya gotta pull that trigger, put me outta my misery."
Lindsey stood mortified, unable to place her hand firmly on the pistol's trigger.
"Baby," she spoke, trying to charm him. "I...I don't wanna do it. I really don't..."
But the man was in no mood for her weak attempts at seduction.
"I don't give a damn about what ya WANT to do no more," James said furiously as she shot up from his 'slumber' and to his feet, wearing his Texas Rangers-themed sleeping shorts and a black T-shirt that had the image of a Plinko chip on the front. "What you've CHOSEN to do? That's what's at hand here and now."
Lindsey's eyes lit up in petrification, her expression frozen as she heard footsteps from behind. She didn't see Gilmore's bodyguard, Mikhail Federov, standing behind her with a scowl on his face. "HHHHRRRRRRRMMMM...," the former hockey enforcer grunted as he gave her the evil eye. "James Gilmore is my friend. He saved my life when you tried to ruin his and demean me. You...have no power over me."
Lindsey was emotionless, a shell of her former charming and seductive self. James, on the other hand, was hurt and betrayed by the whole ordeal. He had trusted her with her life, he had been promised a victory in a mayoral campaign that was very well-fought on all fronts.
It all went up in flames thanks to Lindsey Grawn...and in James Gilmore's mind, she needed to pay a supreme price.
With anger in his bloodshot eyes, he slapped the pistol out of Lindsey's left hand with his right, causing it to fall to the tile floor with a loud thud. The former campaign manager was toast--yet there was one more suprise waiting in the wings. The overhead ceiling light came on, revealing Corpus Christi Police detective Abby Faulkner standing on the other side of the room next to the window, sporting her distinctive Gothic looks with a black dress and matching stiletto heels.
She was also flanked by two police officers, their weapons at the ready.
"Happy birthday Miss Grawn," the veteran detective and single mother intoned. "By the power vested in me by the City of Corpus Christi, Nueces County in the State of Texas, you are under arrest, and your uncle Ricky will soon follow when we catch him..."
Lindsey could only nod as she was read the charges and her Miranda rights. She didn't have the strength in her to put up a fight.
James Gilmore and Mikhail Federov watched as the woman they once trusted was placed in handcuffs and escorted out of their sight. Abby gave the pair a slight wink as she left with the arrestee and her officers, and for James and Mikhail, it was all the pre-Thanksgiving bliss they needed.
The Grawn saga was over.
Yet the bodyguard and his employer--now cemented as best buddies--had to pick up the pieces of mental angst and move onward.
THE END...
...
....OR IS IT?
Nearly five weeks later...
Lindsey Grawn had cherished this night for a very, very long time.
It was going to be her moment in the sun--even in the midst of darkness.
She tiptoed her way throughout the villa, wearing tight blue jeans, white tennis shoes, and a white polo T-shirt. With a .45-caliber pistol in her left hand, she was a woman on a mission. This was going to be the birthday of all birthdays, and nothing was going to stop her from making the beginning of her 26th year on this planet special. "Remember...this is THE biggest present you will have in your life," the gruff, male voice of her ex-Marine uncle Ricky pulsated through her head, making her cackle with glee on the inside.
Save for a few plug-in night lights that illuminated the hallway, the villa was dark.
It was a perfect setting for a moment five months in the making.
Inch by inch, step by step, Lindsey found her way through an open doorway and into a darkened bedroom. Holding the weapon at her left side, she smirked from ear to ear before coming to a stop near a large queen-sized bed; a small radio on its accompanying nightstand softly played the Dokken song "Felony" as the ex-campaign manager nodded her head at its ironic lyrics.
"Well I was shot down
By a heart so cruel
You were laughin' yeah
You took me for a fool
I'm struck down
Left lyin' in the dirt
I never knew
How much love it hurts
You're here in my heart
Felony
You're here in my heart
Felony, felony, felony, yeah
Felony, felony, felony..."
By a heart so cruel
You were laughin' yeah
You took me for a fool
I'm struck down
Left lyin' in the dirt
I never knew
How much love it hurts
You're here in my heart
Felony
You're here in my heart
Felony, felony, felony, yeah
Felony, felony, felony..."
She giggled softly, then raised the gun so it was pointed squarely at the head of the bed's occupant. Like a black widow descending in the night, Lindsey Grawn was about to pull the trigger...and give her intended victim a swift and painful demise, and in her mind...it was going to be as sweet as honey mustard. She wanted her target to learn one simple lesson and pay for it with his life...
...never trust a Grawn. Then again, there was only one bullet in that chamber...but one was all she needed to do the deed and call it a night.
Except there was one minor hiccup.
A hand shot up from out of nowhere to turn an unseen switch on, and suddenly the soft glow of a lamp shined upon the face of her former employer, James Gilmore. Lindsey stood back aghast, not even realizing that whatever she was planning was about to go south in a heartbeat.
"Ya gotta kill me dudette," the Islander alum said in a gravelly, yet firm, tone of voice. "If ya wanna be a true American hero like your coward of an uncle...ya gotta pull that trigger, put me outta my misery."
Lindsey stood mortified, unable to place her hand firmly on the pistol's trigger.
"Baby," she spoke, trying to charm him. "I...I don't wanna do it. I really don't..."
But the man was in no mood for her weak attempts at seduction.
"I don't give a damn about what ya WANT to do no more," James said furiously as she shot up from his 'slumber' and to his feet, wearing his Texas Rangers-themed sleeping shorts and a black T-shirt that had the image of a Plinko chip on the front. "What you've CHOSEN to do? That's what's at hand here and now."
Lindsey's eyes lit up in petrification, her expression frozen as she heard footsteps from behind. She didn't see Gilmore's bodyguard, Mikhail Federov, standing behind her with a scowl on his face. "HHHHRRRRRRRMMMM...," the former hockey enforcer grunted as he gave her the evil eye. "James Gilmore is my friend. He saved my life when you tried to ruin his and demean me. You...have no power over me."
Lindsey was emotionless, a shell of her former charming and seductive self. James, on the other hand, was hurt and betrayed by the whole ordeal. He had trusted her with her life, he had been promised a victory in a mayoral campaign that was very well-fought on all fronts.
It all went up in flames thanks to Lindsey Grawn...and in James Gilmore's mind, she needed to pay a supreme price.
With anger in his bloodshot eyes, he slapped the pistol out of Lindsey's left hand with his right, causing it to fall to the tile floor with a loud thud. The former campaign manager was toast--yet there was one more suprise waiting in the wings. The overhead ceiling light came on, revealing Corpus Christi Police detective Abby Faulkner standing on the other side of the room next to the window, sporting her distinctive Gothic looks with a black dress and matching stiletto heels.
She was also flanked by two police officers, their weapons at the ready.
"Happy birthday Miss Grawn," the veteran detective and single mother intoned. "By the power vested in me by the City of Corpus Christi, Nueces County in the State of Texas, you are under arrest, and your uncle Ricky will soon follow when we catch him..."
Lindsey could only nod as she was read the charges and her Miranda rights. She didn't have the strength in her to put up a fight.
James Gilmore and Mikhail Federov watched as the woman they once trusted was placed in handcuffs and escorted out of their sight. Abby gave the pair a slight wink as she left with the arrestee and her officers, and for James and Mikhail, it was all the pre-Thanksgiving bliss they needed.
The Grawn saga was over.
Yet the bodyguard and his employer--now cemented as best buddies--had to pick up the pieces of mental angst and move onward.
THE END...
...
....OR IS IT?
Well howdy there pardner.