Put the Gun Down

(I know what you’re thinking, two updates so close together? Must be the end of the world! Nah, my characters are just riding me lately. This one features our Adelaide, you remember her don’t you? If not, you can check out her profile here. This story is set in an Alternate universe and instead of Addy being a witch, she’s just one extremely pissed off woman. Enjoy!)

Put the Gun Down

August 15th 1967

The black, 1967 Fleetwood Cadillac pulled up to the curb like the Grim Reaper arriving late to a funeral; filled with acrid smoke that wafted from her red lips and the cigar dangling from her delicate fingertips. There was a time in her life when she wouldn’t have even bothered coming back for him, but after all the shit she’d gone through for that man, she’d be damned if she didn’t give him everything he deserved and more.

“Here’s fine Alicia. Leave the car running.” She exhaled, a plume of fragrant smoke leaving her lips in a ring, breaking against her sisters shoulder where she sat behind the steering wheel. She was dressed completely in black, her head covered by a dark silk scarf that partially concealed her face and large, opaque sunglasses. She called it her disguise. Her way of hiding herself in plain sight. And while she tried to hide, to remain anonymous, her elder sister opened the back door, stepping out onto the pavement dressed in the brightest red dress she could find. Her hair fell in a halo of golden pin curls around her pretty face, her heels clicking quietly against the concrete as she clenched her cigar between her teeth and moved towards O’Malleys, an Irish establishment her husband was known to frequent. A bar. A grill. And a cheap hotel all on the same lot. There was nothing old O’Malley didn’t offer his patrons and the exact same could be said for his wife. The place was usually empty during the day, making it a little surprising to find early drinkers already inhabiting the parking lot, all of them turning to stare, as if they knew instinctively to gather on this day. One that they would never forget.

They gawked and stared as she passed, undoubtedly unnerved by the glint of silver in her right hand. Though they all gasped or recoiled in shock, no one moved to stop her. As if they could. Her heels carried her up the short wooden stairs and into the hotel lobby, her footfall muted by the stained burgundy carpet as she cut a slow right down a long hall. With every step she took her life flashed before her eyes, her childhood, the day of her graduation, even her failure of a wedding day. But none of it felt more rewarding, more fulfilling than the memory she lived at that very moment. It wasn’t long until she reached room 108, his personal favorite, the sound of movement inside bringing a twisted smile to her face. Her Nolan wasn’t a very smart man, but then again, few of them could actually claim that title. He wouldn’t be the first to think he could get away with what he did, but he would certainly be the last. The unlucky sonofabitch. She lifted her left hand slowly to rap lightly on the door, uttering a muffled ‘Room service’ to its occupants. Mere seconds passed until the door swung open, revealing the startled face of a man caught in the act.

“Hello dear.” Her right hand shot into the air, stuffing the barrel of a .45 in that astonished, repentant mug of his. He lifted his hands into the air, his feet carrying him quickly backwards as she entered the room and kicked the door closed with her heel. There was a woman there, just as she’d assumed, naked and scrambling for her clothes as her mouth opened to let rip a scream. “Go ahead. Open that pretty little mouth of yours, if you dare. You’ll be sucking on a lot more than a cock when they drag your body out of here.” She warned and the woman sobbed, dropping her things as she headed for the bed, the direction in which her attacker motioned with the barrel of her gun.

“Adelaide! This isn’t what it looks like, sweetheart.” He sweated, seating himself shakily on the edge of the disheveled mattress. His blue eyes were wild with fear, darting around the room for a way to escape or better yet, something he could use to disable her.

“Of course it isn’t. This is just another business meeting, right?” Her thumb drew back the hammer, cocking her peacemaker as Nolan jumped and attempted to explain everything away, as if his words could ever make anything better.

“Honey, baby, please. We can talk about this.” He lifted his hands in placating gestures as his whore continued to cry, her painted face a wreck of an oil painting as mascara ran.

“Oh?” Adelaide asked, her arm swinging right as she pulled her trigger, recoiling as the lead sped through the woman’s skull, splattering blood, gray matter and skull fragments on the shoddy wallpaper behind her. Her body slowly slid off the bed, hitting the floor with a lifeless thump, “It’s  really a shame I didn’t come here to talk.”

“Adelaide put the gun down–!” His heroic shout ending in another gunshot, and then another, and another, and another as she left his chest cavity riddled with bullet holes. He oozed blood, the crimson liquid staining the bed and carpet, rolling across the floor to the toes of her shoes. She breathed a sigh of relief, flicking her burning cigar onto the bed where it singed a nice sized hole in the sheets before igniting the entire mattress. Satisfied, she turned and walked away.

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