Patience Apr 27, 2016 20:50:41 GMT
Post by Samantha Tolson on Apr 27, 2016 20:50:41 GMT
Sunday, 2:28 pm (Driver)
Just as instructed, I took the blonde to the gym where the Tolson chick works out. She had that big fancy camera with her again...why, I don’ know. I don’ ask questions. I just watch my bank account, and when the money goes in, I wait for the instructions. I get the instructions, I do whatever the boss wants. Life’s simpler for me that way, and God only knows that the cash is good.
Why rock the boat, y’know?
Still, gotta wonder what’s up with these two. Blondie seems all calm, cool, and collected until we stop somewhere, then there’s like this chill in the air or somethin’. She gets out of the van, snaps some pictures...or at least I’m guessin’ that’s what she’s doin’ with that big fancy camera...then she comes back and gets in again. Now, mind you, I ain’ no religious man, but as God is my witness, this girl is just straight up black as night. She’s all quiet and proper until we get where we’re goin’, then it’s like she changes or some shit like that.
I’m tellin’ ya, scares the fuck outta me. An’ I’ve seen some strange shit in my day. Things I can’t ever get outta my head strange. But this girl?
Might be the strangest bird I run across yet.
But the money keeps showin’ up, the instructions keep comin’ along, and I just do what I do, y’know?
Besides...ain’ like this gal is hard on the eyes. Consolation prize, I suppose. Y’could call it a side benefit, even. Blonde hair, porcelain skin, big enough butt and a decent rack. If the boss had us hook up, I wouldn’t be opposed. Done a lot worse lookin’ than this one on orders, it’d be ‘bout time the boss threw a dime piece my way instead of them penny ante whores.
But hell, I’m gettin’ off track here. Can’t be thinkin’ ‘bout slidin’ up in that when I gotta job to do. Workin’ for the boss makes a man learn to curb his more...base instincts. Can’t deny though...back inna day I’da hit that and split it by now.
Here she comes back toward the van. Man, wish you could see her eyes right now...damn near look like she’d burn a hole in a steel plate if she could shoot somethin’ outta them like Superman shoots them bolts outta his eyes. Feels like the temp just dropped ten degrees as she sits down and shuts her door.
I’m tellin’ ya, somethin’ is off with this girl. Got that tinglin’ down my right leg when somethin’ about to go wrong.
Again, though....why rock the boat, y’know?
Sunday, 2:28 pm (Blonde)
My driver picked me up about thirty minutes ago. While I certainly have an appreciation for my benefactor providing me not only with this camera I have in my lap, but passage to wherever I need to go as well...couldn’t there have been someone else?
I mean, he seems nice enough, but he’s overweight. No way he could run interference for me if things got hairy with what I’m doing. Seems to me that there’s enough danger for me, what with skulking around, snapping pictures of Samantha without her having a clue that I’m even doing it.
I don’t really want to know what might happen if she caught me. She’s a fighter, and a hell of a fighter at that. Me, I’m just a nurse. I’ve never been in a fight in my life. Not even once.
Well, except for that one scrape in second grade with Suzie Malloy, but that hardly counts. All we really did was pull each other’s hair. Not exactly what I would term fisticuffs, really.
And the stench? I know this guy is a fan of Mexican. It’s kind of hard not to love the Mexican food in LA, not when it’s so plentiful and so authentic. But damn, take a Beano or two before you eat that second helping of refried beans.
I’ve always wondered why Samantha trains at this place. I mean, it’s in the middle of nowhere, even for Los Angeles. It’s dirty, dingy, and it always seems like she’s the only person here when she’s in there lifting.
She’s coming out now, so I lift my camera to snap more pictures of her. Her face, her torso. I zoom in, and if I look hard enough, I can still see sweat beads on her forehead.
I remember what that was like. When she was working so hard she’d sweat.
I’d taken all the pictures as I could take as she took off in her baby-blue Outlander. I removed myself from my hiding spot, and walked back to the white van, feeling the anger boil in my veins with every step I made.
I don’t know if he can see my anger. Frankly, I don’t care, but I think he’d be pretty clueless to not be able to see the venom in my eyes when I look at him. But as hard as I try to retain any sense of calm, every time her face, her figure is in the lens of this camera, my mind goes back to better times.
And what has happened since makes me angry. It makes me jealous. But I also know that all this, when it finally pays off will all be worth it. Because I will get what I want...what I deserve.
What I never should have given up so easily in the first place.
Growling, I tell him to just drive. I need some time to myself before we go back out later tonight. And I’m sure as hell not going to get it sitting in this wretched van.
Sunday, 8:52 pm(Driver)
Finally got somethin’ t’eat. The boss might not like it, but I kinda put my foot down ‘bout gettin’ somethin’ in my belly, and blondie over there finally gave in and lemme hit the Taco Tico drive through. Couple of them tacos and a quesadilla hit the spot, not to mention the large Coke I’m still drinkin’ from.
Glad to get a chance to stop by my own pad, too. Grabbed up a set of binoculars for myself. I figure if’n the boss don’ find out I’m doin’ my own observatin’, it ain’ gon’ hurt nothin’. Blondie is out hidin’ in the bushes across the street from this swanky lookin’ place downtown, only thing I can see of her that big ass lens she got stickin’ outta the front of that camera.
Y’know, I wonder why she keep followin’ this Tolson girl...might be a good time to bust out them ‘nocs and see what I can see.
Followed along what looked like her line of sight, and dayum if I ain’ get an eyeful of some girl candy! This long white stretch pulled up, and out stepped the Tolson girl with another chick. Not real familiar with that girl, but she hot too. But jus’ ‘tween you ‘n me….Tolson hot like that fire. Lookin’ through these ‘nocs, she look like she part Asian of some sort. An’ you know me, I’m all ‘bout that sweet Asian honey when I can get it.
Like you ain’t! I mean, white girls is nice ‘n all, and there are certain some of ‘em with an appreciation for a brother like me, but you get ‘em in the sack ‘n half of ‘em lay there like they ain’ even enjoyin’ it, y’know? Don’ even get me started on the sisters...half of ‘em I’ve known would rather cut a man than be down to ride or die with a man. Hell, these days half of the sisters be into other sisters...I can’t get with that. I need me a woman who’ll be down to be down with jus’ me, y’know?
Then ‘gin, not gonna turn down a chance to watch a couple of ‘em get freaky on each other, know what I’m sayin’? Every man’s fantasy, if you believe the hype. Watchin’ your girl get it on with another girl, lettin’ you watch as they do what they do, maybe even join in if your lucky.
But I’m gettin’ off topic here. Trained the ‘nocs on that Tolson chick, and I’ll be damned if I an’ see her plant a big kiss on the other girl that got out that limo! Well hot dayum! I didn’t know she was one of them kinda girls.
Wait a minute.
Ya don’t think?
Or could ol’ blondie over there in the bushes….
Oh man...I think I’ma hafta stop talkin’ and just keep my mouth closed up real good’n tight, or I’ll be sayin’ things I ain’ need say.
Y’know what I’m sayin’?
Shit...here she comes. Time to put on the act.
Cool as the other side of the pillow. That’s me right now.
Sunday, 8:52 pm(Blonde)
Can I just be honest? I hate these bushes. They’re prickly, and when I step out of them when I’m done taking more pictures, my skin itches for hours. That being said, it’s far better than sitting in that van. I let him hit a drive-through before we got here, since he picked me up at least thirty minutes ahead of the scheduled time.
Said something about needing food or something like that. So what does he pick? Not a McDonald’s or a Burger King, or even something like a Wendy’s where I might be able to get something for myself as well. No. This fat fucker picks, of all places, Taco Goddamn Tico. Four tacos, two of those nasty-looking monster quesadillas, complete with that stinky Tico sauce, and a large side of refried beans.
Thank GOD I got out of there when I did, lest I die from gas exposure.
The white limo pulls up outside the building across the street, and the driver does what he’s paid to do and opens the door.
By the way...I wonder how my benefactor always seems to know where these two are going to show up. Not that I’m questioning it, really, but the question does linger in the back of my mind from time to time.
Samantha steps out, and I begin to snap pictures, one after the other. She looks good tonight. Not that she ever looked bad, per se. She always did have that country-pretty thing going on.
Oh...now she steps out.
And Samantha grabs her by the back of the head, kissing her hard on the lips, then smiling as she smiles back.
And the madness rises to almost a fever pitch. I want nothing more than to jump out of these bushes and run over there. I want to beat her, claw her eyes out, make her feel all the pain that I’ve felt.
That I still feel ever since that night.
I want to drive her head into the curb, over and over again, until the blood flows.
But I can’t.
Not yet, anyway. This is neither the right time, nor the right place.
There is more work to be done. A lot more.
It’s far too early to make my play now. After all, the best poker players never reveal their hand until they are assured of winning the prize.
And I will win the prize.
She will be mine again.
I snap a few more photos as they walk into the restaurant, hand in hand, looking so much in love. Makes me sick to my stomach.
They disappear beyond the doors, and I extricate myself from my prison of foliage and head back to the van.
What the…? Is he…?
I swear...if I get back to the van and he’s….
No. Good. Crisis averted.
Last thing I need is to see him doing that while I’m over here with my blood pressure about to explode through my temples.
I get into the van, and he starts it up, looking as complacent as I’ve seen him.
But why does he have a set of binoculars on the floor next to his seat?
Monday, 2:08 am(Blonde)
I’m sitting on my couch, looking through the photos I’ve developed from tonight’s work.
Samantha looking as beautiful as ever. Her, looking like the tramp that she is.
I have my big red marker. I spread the pictures out on the coffee table in front of me, and I draw a big red ‘X’ through her on the first photo slowly. Again, on the second. And the third, and fourth, drawing those red marks as fast as I can, using my marker to do to her what I cannot do in person.
She was mine once.
She will be again.
She just doesn’t know it yet.
I look at the last photo, the one where they look completely happy, completely in love with each other. And I wretch, my stomach in knots. That could have been me.
That SHOULD have been me.
...and it will be. I just have to be patient, and trust in the plan.