FAÇADE, 3
“–Save the speech, Ray.”
I start to open the bedroom door, when Ray adds a little louder, “See, you’ve always gotta have these bimbos around –”
“–Ok. Fine. Let’s go,” I mutter and leave my lovely guests by themselves in my bedroom.
Outside Ray has a few beers ready for me, next to a pink .22. The deck faces a backyard stretching until it drops over the horizon. He leads me to the beers and the guns at the end of the deck. He hands me a cold one and the pink .22. Another .22, black, is at his feet.
Ray tucks his gun into his armpit with one hand and grabs the beer with the other.
Though I’ve never fired a gun before, I nestle the butt along my shoulder, which feels wrong.
Ray loads the gun, and a slight aroma of gunpowder fills the air.
“Jesus, Ray,” I say. “You’re gonna piss off the entire neighborhood."
I start to open the bedroom door, when Ray adds a little louder, “See, you’ve always gotta have these bimbos around –”
“–Ok. Fine. Let’s go,” I mutter and leave my lovely guests by themselves in my bedroom.
Outside Ray has a few beers ready for me, next to a pink .22. The deck faces a backyard stretching until it drops over the horizon. He leads me to the beers and the guns at the end of the deck. He hands me a cold one and the pink .22. Another .22, black, is at his feet.
Ray tucks his gun into his armpit with one hand and grabs the beer with the other.
Though I’ve never fired a gun before, I nestle the butt along my shoulder, which feels wrong.
Ray loads the gun, and a slight aroma of gunpowder fills the air.
“Jesus, Ray,” I say. “You’re gonna piss off the entire neighborhood."