He tilted his head back pouring the bourbon down the hatch. The once acrid burn, as it sank into his gullet, is now welcome warmth. Lavonia set hers back on the table. Gone are the days when matching his indulgence mattered more that her own sensibility. Over the last few days, Raydon became poison to her. During the course of their whirlwind romance, she never knew him to do anything sensible. In the beginning, Raydon’s disregard for convention was a stimulant for her. Sure, they had some delicious moments. Crazy doesn’t make you live longer. It’s a fleeting rush. Next, comes paying the piper. Lavonia always did the paying with a small piece of her soul here and there, then great chunks of her sanity. In both departments, she now feels bankrupt. Raydon knows how to push her buttons. He uses her vices as a tool to play her for the fool she is. Tonight she will end his hold over her. This night she will beat him at his own game.
Raydon notices her empty hand and full glass. He recognizes the look. He’s seen that look many times on more faces than a plastic surgeon’s client list and more beautiful. Something else is stirring behind those deep blue pools. The eyes are the mirrors of the soul. When there is no soul behind the eyes, the mirror is cloudy and cold.
Raydon is the cause of Lavonia’s cold soul. He made the explosive devices in order to extort money from the merchants. If they refused to pay, he would send her to place the small but powerful devices in strategic locations. This would be an example to the other merchants. They paid him with their money or their life. Lavonia pays with mounting guilt. The adjoining structures housed families with children. Each new blast made a bigger hole in her heart.
Raydon lifts his knee to tip the small table, spilling Lavonia’s drink into her lap. He can’t prevent one side of his mouth from curling like an Elvis smile. He is pleased with himself for activating the insult. With no attempt to apologize, he waits for her response.
Lavonia does not flinch while looking into his eyes. He tries to conceal his puzzlement. The wetness of the bourbon penetrates her cotton skirt and burns a little when it reaches her femininity. Raydon’s involuntary lift of his eyebrows exposes his surprise when he hears the double click from the hammer being cocked. The smirk evaporates from his face as he realizes Lavonia’s thirty-eight points at him from under the table. Now it is her time to smirk as the bullet finds its target in the pride of his manhood. She exits the sleazy pub walking around the corner of the block, removes the remote from her purse pushing the toggle forward, then drops the remote into the storm sewer as the explosion in the pub takes down the building.
VALORMORE DE PLUME ©3272016
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