We better get out of here, Hatchet told her in earnest immediacy. What's up? He pointed at two dark bespectacled Guardians striding toward them across the yellow lines on the pavement. What are they gonna do? They're gonna ask us what we're doing here, give us a hard time. She delivered a coy pout. Why would they do that? Because that's their job. What are you afraid of? she asked him, knowing full well. You're jacking with me, he told her, you think this is funny. Maybe a little; let's see what happens. Goddammit, Delilah. Her mischievous little snicker cut him like a thorn.
She lowered the window and gave them a minxish, Hello, there, boys. They asked her name and grilled her on why they were sitting in the parking lot at this hour on a Tuesday, pointing out that the only functions currently in progress were taking place at the sports facility. Delilah informed them of her membership with the church; they were just admiring the architecture of the Worship Center. They asked her why she didn't have the latest window sticker mailed last month to official members. This one's no good anymore? she asked them. No, they explained and asked her to please be sure and replace it as soon as possible.
How's the whole robbery investigation going? she said. Every muscle in Hatchet's body engaged gross constriction. Expressionless behind their dark shades like evil androids programmed for nothing but brutality, their earpieces adding to the metaphor, the two Guardians said nothing. She asked the question again with an impenitent rearrangement of the words. We're making progress. Oh really, her affected giddiness going into overdrive, do tell; who's the prime suspect? They ignored this inquiry and the one leaning down at her tilted his head in Hatchet's direction. Hatchet turned toward the gray southern line of the horizon. You a member here too? Nope. What's your name? His name's Marcus Hatchet, Delilah told them with the inflection of a master of ceremonies. Hatchet considered slapping her across her smug little snout.
Well, folks, the wingman standing behind the forward Guardian said, we need this lot empty so if you could clear out or pull around to the Watkins Building, we'd appreciate it. Not a problem, mister security dude, she said and fired up the car and waved to them as she reversed the vehicle and then launched through the exit, scraping the car’s undercarriage. I should strangle you, Hatchet told her. Eww, tie me up first, please. You're being a bitch. And you're a being a pussy; let me buy you a drink to make up for it. Fine.
She took him back to the martini bar where they had gone on their first date but Hatchet made little effort to converse with her no matter how hard she tried to engage him. Her pedantic ramble included projects at the lab, her soon to be published research paper, her pursuit of a certain Brazilian rock star. He spent the conversation responding with lethargic nods. Just as he had hoped, she became bored with him and began interrupting the surrounding conversations and entertaining the stray remarks of other men. Preoccupied with the possibility that the conspiracy between Brody Lassiter and Timothy Allen Teague might branch down to even the lowest of the Calvary security, making the mention of his name a possible red flag, he couldn't keep his mood in check. Delilah wandered into a muster of yuppies at the end of the glowing marble bar and Hatchet slipped out, walked the few blocks to his truck sitting parked and ticketed in front of the bookstore. He wadded the ticket and tossed it over his shoulder into the wind. This would be the end of his friendship with the feisty young Asian with whom he once thought he might be in love.
She lowered the window and gave them a minxish, Hello, there, boys. They asked her name and grilled her on why they were sitting in the parking lot at this hour on a Tuesday, pointing out that the only functions currently in progress were taking place at the sports facility. Delilah informed them of her membership with the church; they were just admiring the architecture of the Worship Center. They asked her why she didn't have the latest window sticker mailed last month to official members. This one's no good anymore? she asked them. No, they explained and asked her to please be sure and replace it as soon as possible.
How's the whole robbery investigation going? she said. Every muscle in Hatchet's body engaged gross constriction. Expressionless behind their dark shades like evil androids programmed for nothing but brutality, their earpieces adding to the metaphor, the two Guardians said nothing. She asked the question again with an impenitent rearrangement of the words. We're making progress. Oh really, her affected giddiness going into overdrive, do tell; who's the prime suspect? They ignored this inquiry and the one leaning down at her tilted his head in Hatchet's direction. Hatchet turned toward the gray southern line of the horizon. You a member here too? Nope. What's your name? His name's Marcus Hatchet, Delilah told them with the inflection of a master of ceremonies. Hatchet considered slapping her across her smug little snout.
Well, folks, the wingman standing behind the forward Guardian said, we need this lot empty so if you could clear out or pull around to the Watkins Building, we'd appreciate it. Not a problem, mister security dude, she said and fired up the car and waved to them as she reversed the vehicle and then launched through the exit, scraping the car’s undercarriage. I should strangle you, Hatchet told her. Eww, tie me up first, please. You're being a bitch. And you're a being a pussy; let me buy you a drink to make up for it. Fine.
She took him back to the martini bar where they had gone on their first date but Hatchet made little effort to converse with her no matter how hard she tried to engage him. Her pedantic ramble included projects at the lab, her soon to be published research paper, her pursuit of a certain Brazilian rock star. He spent the conversation responding with lethargic nods. Just as he had hoped, she became bored with him and began interrupting the surrounding conversations and entertaining the stray remarks of other men. Preoccupied with the possibility that the conspiracy between Brody Lassiter and Timothy Allen Teague might branch down to even the lowest of the Calvary security, making the mention of his name a possible red flag, he couldn't keep his mood in check. Delilah wandered into a muster of yuppies at the end of the glowing marble bar and Hatchet slipped out, walked the few blocks to his truck sitting parked and ticketed in front of the bookstore. He wadded the ticket and tossed it over his shoulder into the wind. This would be the end of his friendship with the feisty young Asian with whom he once thought he might be in love.
Edit 12.27.2018