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Authors: Ed Griffin
Tags: General Fiction
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The panel sliced into the man's upper back. Frank ran out to help, but even as he did, he knew the tally sheet would now be at 298.
Chapter 8
The lights went out and Latisha felt the rain sweep in through the hole in the roof. Gil pulled her toward the door as bits of roofing peppered the inside walls.Terror gripped her, but also excitement.
Who had Frank Villa shouted at? She couldn't see.
Gil pulled her out to the front of the air terminal. "Are we going to our house?" she shouted over the wind.
He didn't answer her. Instead he led her to a car in the parking lot, its engine running roughly. "Gil," she shouted again, "This is no fun.Let's walk like everyone else."All the other families were sloshing along toward Bering Hill, carrying their belongings in shopping carts. They were pioneers settling a new country - and she was one of them.
"Too wet to walk," he yelled and tried to open the passenger door for her, but it wouldn't budge. He went around the car, where one of his men held the door for him. The man shouted, "Don't turn ' er off till you get where you're going."
Gilmore got in and tried again to open her door without success.
A sudden gust yanked her parka hood off. Pelting rain slammed into her. She opened her mouth for a deep breath and felt her tongue assaulted by the driving rain.She smiled. This weather was fierce, almost devilish. Here there was no room for sitting on a fence - you'd be blown off. Here it was black and white, good and bad, yes and no. Latisha smiled. This is what she needed in her life. Decision.Action. No more life as usual.
Gilmore opened the door at last. "I'm sorry, fine lady." He always called her that. "Fine lady."
She slid into the front seat, which was mildewed and smelled musty. Her head was drenched. "So long, Boss," the man outside called, "I'm outta here."
She wished people would call him something besides Boss.
The man ran into the sheets of rain and was gone. Gilmore looked at her for a moment, then gently touched her face. "Hello, fine lady," he said softly. He kissed her lightly. "God, do you smell great."
His kiss was an easy kiss, gentle, loving. "Come on," it said, "let's make things like they used to be."Many nights she had fallen asleep with that easy, soft kiss. How pleasant to go back there.
A wind bounced off the air terminal and rattled the car. She pulled away from the kiss and sat up straight. "How come you're against Frank Villa?"
"Whoa.Where did that come from?" He moved back to the driver's seat and put the car in gear. "Villa doesn't understand convicts. This is not a Sunday school."
"Why don't you work with him?" In the past the rules said he lived his life, she lived hers. There were to be no questions. She was changing all that.
He didn't respond.A sudden squall hit the windshield.He pulled over, stopped and shifted to neutral. He took her hand. "It's a new beginning. I'm trying to change. I need your help."
Yes, it was a new beginning and she'd given herself a few lectures about working with him, encouraging the good, discouraging the bad. She knew she was coming across as a moralist.
She squeezed his hand. She cuddled into him. "We're home, Gil. Home."
He didn't answer, he just kissed her, long and deep and hard. His kiss stirred her. It had been a long time. His hand slipped down and touched her breast and landed on her stomach.
"Oh, Gil," she said, putting her wet face against his wet face. This time was going to be different. So he had promised, and so she had seen in his eyes. He was different this time in prison. Prison was getting to him.
He kissed her again and she searched for him in the kiss. Where was he?
Had she made a mistake? Still the debate raged in her mind. "You're crazy," her boss at Sears said. On the other side his mother pleaded with her. "You're
Chapter 8
The lights went out and Latisha felt the rain sweep in through the hole in the roof. Gil pulled her toward the door as bits of roofing peppered the inside walls.Terror gripped her, but also excitement.
Who had Frank Villa shouted at? She couldn't see.
Gil pulled her out to the front of the air terminal. "Are we going to our house?" she shouted over the wind.
He didn't answer her. Instead he led her to a car in the parking lot, its engine running roughly. "Gil," she shouted again, "This is no fun.Let's walk like everyone else."All the other families were sloshing along toward Bering Hill, carrying their belongings in shopping carts. They were pioneers settling a new country - and she was one of them.
"Too wet to walk," he yelled and tried to open the passenger door for her, but it wouldn't budge. He went around the car, where one of his men held the door for him. The man shouted, "Don't turn ' er off till you get where you're going."
Gilmore got in and tried again to open her door without success.
A sudden gust yanked her parka hood off. Pelting rain slammed into her. She opened her mouth for a deep breath and felt her tongue assaulted by the driving rain.She smiled. This weather was fierce, almost devilish. Here there was no room for sitting on a fence - you'd be blown off. Here it was black and white, good and bad, yes and no. Latisha smiled. This is what she needed in her life. Decision.Action. No more life as usual.
Gilmore opened the door at last. "I'm sorry, fine lady." He always called her that. "Fine lady."
She slid into the front seat, which was mildewed and smelled musty. Her head was drenched. "So long, Boss," the man outside called, "I'm outta here."
She wished people would call him something besides Boss.
The man ran into the sheets of rain and was gone. Gilmore looked at her for a moment, then gently touched her face. "Hello, fine lady," he said softly. He kissed her lightly. "God, do you smell great."
His kiss was an easy kiss, gentle, loving. "Come on," it said, "let's make things like they used to be."Many nights she had fallen asleep with that easy, soft kiss. How pleasant to go back there.
A wind bounced off the air terminal and rattled the car. She pulled away from the kiss and sat up straight. "How come you're against Frank Villa?"
"Whoa.Where did that come from?" He moved back to the driver's seat and put the car in gear. "Villa doesn't understand convicts. This is not a Sunday school."
"Why don't you work with him?" In the past the rules said he lived his life, she lived hers. There were to be no questions. She was changing all that.
He didn't respond.A sudden squall hit the windshield.He pulled over, stopped and shifted to neutral. He took her hand. "It's a new beginning. I'm trying to change. I need your help."
Yes, it was a new beginning and she'd given herself a few lectures about working with him, encouraging the good, discouraging the bad. She knew she was coming across as a moralist.
She squeezed his hand. She cuddled into him. "We're home, Gil. Home."
He didn't answer, he just kissed her, long and deep and hard. His kiss stirred her. It had been a long time. His hand slipped down and touched her breast and landed on her stomach.
"Oh, Gil," she said, putting her wet face against his wet face. This time was going to be different. So he had promised, and so she had seen in his eyes. He was different this time in prison. Prison was getting to him.
He kissed her again and she searched for him in the kiss. Where was he?
Had she made a mistake? Still the debate raged in her mind. "You're crazy," her boss at Sears said. On the other side his mother pleaded with her. "You're
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