Monday, June 6, 2011

Borrowong Without Permission - Chapter 3

For those who have been following Borrowing Without Permission, I have posted the third chapter bellow. In case it isn't clear, the narrator in this chapter is not Tie, the woman from the last two chapters, but rather a man named Reece. I still haven't figured out a way to differentiate between the two, so if anyone has any suggestions, they'd be greatly appreciated!

Vancouver, British Columbia
I don't need you anymore!
I grabbed the remote control and held the volume button. Voices boomed from the television set.
All my life you made me believe I was only worth what someone would pay for me! But Christian loves me. He loves me!
Flickering light streamed from the tiny square box and into the pitch black room, casting dark shadows across the walls.
He loves me, Harold. And that is worth everything! We're going away from you, away from the Duke, away from the Moulin -”
I pressed the power button, turning off the television. God was I sick of watching chick flicks and daytime soap operas. That last heist was forcing me to lie low for awhile, but man, were these things cheesy. I needed to get out; I couldn’t keep wasting away in a hotel room. I had to get up and begin staking out the new target.
Now, I could easily remain calm under high levels of pressure, but leaving my mind inactive for long periods of time made my nerves twinge. I needed problems and puzzles to keep my focus, otherwise the sweaty palms and agitated fidgeting would set in.  
I hoisted myself from the couch and went to push back the drapes. Squinting against the intruding sunlight, I walked to the bedroom where I plucked a white shirt from my suitcase. Although I had been living in the hotel room for over a week, the suitcase had not yet been unpacked.
As I stood buttoning up the shirt, my cell phone rang - my personal cell phone. Very few people had the number, so it must have been something important. I couldn’t afford to miss the call. I dashed from the room and leapt over the coffee table, knocking over a pile of newspapers in the process. As I ran for the kitchen, the phone trilled for a second time. I grabbed it from the counter top and flipped it open, cutting off the third ring.
“This is Reece,” I said.
“Reece, I need you to do something for me,” said the man at the other end of the line.
“Yes, Reece, it’s me. Now listen carefully.  We were caught, Reece. They’re coming and there’s no way out this time. We’re trapped,” said the man.
“What! How! What happened?”
“We underestimated this guy, Reece. Everett screwed us all,” said the panicked voice.
“What?” I asked.
“It doesn’t matter, but you have to do this job. And now’s your chance.” The man’s voice raised an octave.
“What’s the take?”
“You’ll see.”
“But Lawry -”
“You of all people will be able to do this, Reece. But if you want to pull it off, you’re going to need help, very specific help.
“I don’t understand,” I asked, struggling to keep my voice steady.
“Find Remington Lindberg. He’ll help you.”
“Wait, who -” I yelped.  The line went dead.

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