"If I don't hear a valid excuse out of your mouth by the time I put this rifle up and take aim, I'm going to kill you where you stand."
Ken slipped a thumb underneath the rifle's sling to lift it off his shoulder, and in a smooth motion he pulled it out and brought it up to his shoulder. He flipped the safety off, and with both eyes open he took aim through the forward-mounted scope.
"Hugo's in deep shit, and you're the only one I know that can fix it!" Jill's fat-faced form shuddered as she realized Ken meant it. "It's a cult, Ken, a fucking cult!"
"And why do you care? You stabbed him in the back when he needed you most, broke your marital vows, took him for half, and you get a monthly check for a fucking ridiculous sum. This sounds more like you're worried about your meal-ticket. I'd be right to blow your brains out here and now, and then make soap out of your fat-assed carcass."
"I just don't know-"
Ken slid his firing hand's trigger finger through the guard, setting the trigger with a clearly audible click and kept his aim fixed squarely between Jill's eyes. "Keep talking."
"Look, I know you're sore over the divorce, and it's because you care that you're the one I have to turn to now." Jill waved a thumb drive in her hand. "It's all here."
"Been snooping now?"
"On advice by my counsel, I had a private investigator tail him. When he started seeing that author woman, his finances stopped being stable, and it turned out that he's being bilked into spending money on charities that aren't up-and-up."
"Still sounds like you care only about his bank account."
"They're tied to the group that killed your girlfriend 20 years ago."
Ken sighed, and lowered his rifle. "Fine, you get a reprieve, but you had better fucking deliver or you aren't going home."
Monday, November 23, 2015
My Life as a Writer: Another Excerpt from "The Burning of Hugo"
(Work In Progress. This is from the beginning, where Hugo's ex-wife pays our protagonist Ken a visit.)