Post by Deleted on Nov 14, 2014 18:20:11 GMT
CALIFORNIA
November 8th, 2014
Motel Room
The motel room was dark; a light, faint buzzing noise filled the room as the ceiling fan stirred itself in a circle motion. Only a trickle of sunlight escaped through certain parts of the blinds that had been bent due to years of hands opening them to peek through, to see who was outside. The motel room had the look of something you might find if you traveled back to the 70s.
On the edge of the bed sat Radek Dayz. His LG A341 pay-as-you-go phone lay beside him, and a 5.7mm black handgun rested in the grip of his hand. His phone shed some light, followed by the default ringtone. He reached down, picked it up and flipped it open.
“Yes.”
He listened while the person on the other side chatted his ear off. Radek, though, seemed more focused on the deadly weapon in his hand than the conversation itself.
“Tomorrow, noon.”
Radek pulled himself off the bed and walked over to the mini fridge. He pulled the door open, reached in, grabbed a bottle of Coors with his gun hand, and then kicked the door shut with his foot. He twisted the cap off, holding his cell phone with his shoulder. He took a sip.
“Jack will show up?”
The person on the other end screamed “Yes” into the phone.
“Good.”
He took another sip.
“We have a lot… to catch up on.”
Radek moved, walking over towards the dresser and placed his beer down. He stared at his reflection.
“No Oddball, I’ll be there.” Radek paused as Oddball had changed conversations. “Metro Pro… really? A contract? Good.”
Radek pulled the phone away from his ear. Oddball continued to speak as he clicked the phone shut and tossed it beside his car keys. He grabbed the bottle of Coors and put it to his mouth while he raised the 5.7 mm gun to the mirror. He took a drink, watching himself as he pulled the trigger, which made a clicking noise. He smirked.
“Soon, Jack.”
CALIFORNIA
November 9th, 2014
Next Morning
The blinds were fully open the next morning as Radek exited the bathroom, pulling on a T-shirt. He looked at the clock beside his bed; it read 9:30am. If he left now, he’d arrived first. He grabbed his keys and his pay-as-you-go cell phone, stuffing it into his back jean pocket. He looked down at the 5.7 mm, picked it up, looked at it again and then stuffed it into the top drawer. He exited the room.
