As she said it, yeah. Maybe she didn’t look quite like the trashy, LA type that was bored with life, alimony checks, and her thorough-breed children and got her own kicks picking expensive items from expensive stores she could’ve just as easily purchased. Nah. There was something a little heavier about this one—something weighted behind her eyes.
Still. Ever an excuse to drink. He shrugged off the defeat and threw back his drink easily, swallowing the shot down. It burned deliciously. Three more of these and his throat wouldn’t feel anything at all. And Tig could always use an excuse to get shit-faced. Especially if the broad was paying. And if she wasn’t paying, one of the Prospects would cover for him. Hierarchy. It was a lovely goddamn thing, so long as you were on the top.
Alright. This kind of getting to know you Tig could get used to. He looked back at the woman, feeling a real competitive streak sweep through him now. She was calculated. Methodical. Not the type that struck him as a real crime of passion type. Crime of vengeance, maybe. He paused, then said, “You ever been married? I say you found out he was screwing around behind your back and pulled a Lorena Bobbitt.“
White filter nestled between lips, thumb struck zippo flint whilst she allowed his icy ceruleans to survey her outward appearance a bit more closely. Lighting unlit end of her cigarette, lungs nearly choked amidst smoke abundant inhalation. The mention of his reference recalled wolf-like grin and glistening sapphires rolled. While southern belle was married at one time and she did in fact murder her husband, that wasn’t what finally landed her behind bars. ”–Good lord,“ her head hung dejectedly, sigh escaping slightly parted lips. "That ain’t what I was put in prison for, but yeah, I was married to a real asshole.” Crystalline brim ascended to slightly parted pouts for a quick swill. “–that was a long time ago.” At least it felt that way.
“Looks like you’re drinkin’ again,” she nodded for the clubhouse bartender to pour him another drink. “I got thrown in jail for protectin’ someone. Funny how that works, ain’t it?” Delicate index pad traced the brim of half-full lowball glass. “There was this whore I used to know and her pimp was lookin’ to kill her ‘cause she witnessed somethin’ she shouldn’t’ve. He liked layin’ his hands on her and the other girl’s frequently. I ended up takin’ over his business.” And she would leave it at that. Ava could surmise he was smart enough to put the puzzle pieces together sans confession. “I ain’t got patience for women beaters.”
Taking long haul of cigarette, azures sought bar top for ash tray. Inching one towards her with tips of fingers, warm gaze returned to the male sitting beside her. “My ex-husband; – I shot him with his huntin’ rifle one night while he was eatin’ dinner, – ’cause he beat me.”
tiggerdontchangestripes reblogged this from ofcriminalgrace and added: Of course, Tig was drinking again. Working down a nice little tally of shots. Couldn’t think of any better way to spend...
ofcriminalgrace reblogged this from tiggerdontchangestripes and added: White filter nestled between lips, thumb struck zippo flint whilst she allowed his icy ceruleans to survey her outward...
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