This is part one of two for the Sunday Shorts on Steven. I will try and get part two up during the week this week. However, I don’t know if I’m going to be able to with the baby shower happening this week :) With luck it’ll all be good.

This short is for Steven Jones another character from the Empire Series…

Why did he always have these assignments? Showering off the stink of urine and god knew what else was going to take him weeks. Yet, as he sat on the street corner shaking his cup at the beautiful women as they walked by in their miniskirts and low cut tops, he couldn’t help but appreciate the view. Long slender legs, killer hips and a strut that could have had him drooling, but instead he was offering a toothless grin up at each one of them begging for their loose coins. All this time waiting for the one person of interest to stalk by him, and all this time finding himself disappointed as she never showed up. Of course he had been waiting in that spot for the better part of three weeks now and each time he put on the filthy clothes and falsely limped his way over to his corner to sit on the musty blanket, he had no more and no less hope that she would come than he had the day before. Truthfully he wished his superiors would let this one go, but they seemed determined to catch the fly in their web.
It wasn’t a particularly warm night, but it wasn’t freezing either, and he could at least be thankful for that. He was from the south; the temperature here was truthfully always cold to him. The blasted locals constantly telling him it wasn’t cold didn’t quite understand his skin wasn’t as thick as theirs. They would be in shorts and a t-shirts and he would be looking for the nearest sweater. They could tell him he would adjust all they wanted, he would much rather be in California than here but he had to go where he was told. Temperature aside though it was a beautiful night. Brilliant buildings lit up the night’s sky and a full moon hung high in the sky gazing down on the earth.
Another group of giggling girls strolled past him paying him little to no attention despite him jiggling the cup in their direction. Of course he made more than a few dollars each night and some people brought him coffee or feed, but he could think of a few activities he would much rather be doing at that moment. It was frustrating as each night would press on and he would turn up nothing, but this night was not going to be one of them. Tonight was certainly going to be different. His dark blue eyes buried behind hazel contacts took in the platinum blonde bee-lining for the same club the gaggle of girls had been headed for. She was dressed to kill, with black knee-high boots, spiked heels, a skin tight black leather skirt that was leaving very little to his imagination and a tight fitting low cut tank top that left even less. With a sheer over shirt that was flaring at the sleeves he could barely see her tanned skin and bangle bracelets. With her hair pulled up in a loose bun of curls that fell around her face, there was no mistaking it, there was the target. They had been waiting for her long enough and as he jammed his cup up towards her and watched as she turned her nose up, huffed and walked around him, he was certainly careful to drop the small device into her handbag. A circular dot, no larger than a candy covered chocolate, fell to the bottom of the handbag without giving off so much as a hint of its presence as the woman continued on her way.
Waiting long enough for her to be out of sight range he limped away from his perch and vanished into one of the many darkened alleys New York City provided him with. It was only once he was a good distance away that he would call it in. “Package has been delivered.” He spoke simply into a small microphone clipped to the underside of his shirt sleeve and heard the quick confirmation through the earpiece that was nestled nearly invisibly in his ear. The order than followed next made him want to groan. He was only supposed to drop the device into her bag, and now he was being instructed to follow her, well, stay with her. There was no way that posh nightclub was going to let him waltz in there as he was in that moment, and he was certain he wouldn’t be washing the stench off of him with enough time to make it in there before she vanished.
Huffing he made his way back out onto the streets, positioning himself not far from the nightclub but this time in a more discreet manner. Whereas before he was sitting on the street nearly assaulting every person that walked by him begging for money, now he lay curled up on some old musty blankets feigning sleep and watching the night club’s doors from the shadows. How long he was going to be stuck there he had no way of knowing but he certainly hoped it was not going to be all night – he had been looking forward to that shower.
Hours seemed to pass, hours of him watching that door and waiting. He had begun to wonder if the blasted woman had slipped out the back and vanished on them. Had she found the device? Removed it and destroyed it? Close to calling it he saw her slip out of the club on the arm of a tall skinny man. The man stepped up to the two door sports car and opened the door for his target letting her slide into the passenger side. It was a car he could only ever dream of driving, and as the engines fired up and the pair zoomed off in a cloud of smoke he grumbled to himself. How on earth was he to keep up on foot?
Shoving himself up from the ground, he made his way in a slow limp away from anyone that might have been able to recognize him, slowly standing straighter and blending himself in with the others walking the sidewalks. Of course to truly blend in he would have to change, but for the moment everyone was so concerned with themselves they failed to notice him walking amongst them. That was the only plus of the big city, it was easy to slide along unnoticed. Everyone was so concerned with themselves that as the wise man once said, a person could die on the subway and no one would notice… at least no one would notice for a fair amount of time.
Reaching his beat up old FORD he slid into the driver’s seat and withdrew his cell phone from the center console. “Jones here, get me a trace, I need an address.” He spoke into the phone as he wiped some of the muck off of his face and stripped away the clothes. Damn the car was going to need a detailing. It was starting to smell as bad as he did at that moment. Truthfully he wanted to get a new car, but this job could be a big promotion for him, at least he was damn well hoping it was. It had better be worth SOMETHING.
As the address came in, he started up his car and began racing across the city. He needed a go order to move in on the target but he certainly didn’t want to be far from her when it came in. As he was driving he ordered a check on the man she had been with, quickly describing his long thinning hair, slender frame and estimated height. Though he was too far to get much in terms of his face he had an idea of where they should be looking. At night the streets weren’t nearly as packed as they were during the day but it was New York City, the city never slept and their streets were busier at night than most cities would experience during the height of rush hour. Steven truthfully wished they would all go home to bed as he darted down the streets as best he could. He would have preferred to use the sirens but imagined that his superiors wouldn’t have appreciated that too much. Instead he kept as close to the speed limit as he could and finally arrived at the address he was given a short while later. Just in time for the helicopter.
Green light or not he was going into the building as he watched a helicopter flying dangerously low to the building hovering towards the penthouse suite. Of course an exact address on condos were near impossible to pin point with a tracking dot, but he had a fair reason to believe the penthouse was exactly where he needed and wanted to be in that moment.

This is the first of the Sunday Short Stories I plan to work on. It’s just over 3700 words and features one of the characters from my novel series Empire. This short is meant as a small glimpse of one of the minor character’s pasts. It’s fun to expand on a character who doesn’t get a lot of love in the series. Especially when you can do so without giving away anything in the series. :) So I hope you take the time to read and enjoy the story. I realize it ends a little quickly, I might go back and modify that later, but as always constructive crits are VERY welcome.

***

Her nose scrunched up and her eyes narrowed she sneered at the homeless man shaking his cup of only a few loose coins at her. His clothes smelled of urine, and were stained with the mud of whatever ground he sat or slept on, and his facial features had long since lost any lively character they may have had. Hands shaking as he detoxed from whatever high he might have been on at the time, he continued to shake the cup at each stranger hoping one of them may take a little pity on his condition and drop a few coins into the cup. To her he was nothing more than filthy, a burden that she wanted nothing to do with. Yet, he paid no mind to her obvious distaste for him and continued begging as she clicked her heels against the sidewalk, walking away with her nose in the air.

It wasn’t a particularly cold night, but the air had a certain chill to it, a part of living in New York City she tended to despise. Though the nightlife was far more entertaining than her small town in Texas had been, she hated cold weather, and found it often ruined a well kept figure when she had to bulk up to stay warm. Dressed to kill that night, she had the black knee-high boots with the three inch spiked heel, the curvy figure accented by the skin tight black leather skirt, the shimmering silver, tight fitting, low cut tank top and the sheer over shirt that flared her sleeves. Bangle bracelets, large hooped earrings and a pendant that fell to just the right place on her chest all sparkled in the overhead street lights. Her tanned skin flawless, unless one looked close enough to discover the faint traces of concealer, and her silver and black eye shadow served only to enhance the blue of her eyes. All of it was topped off by the long platinum blonde hair that was pulled up into bundle of curls on the top of her head. A few loose strands had fallen out to frame her face, but rather than place them back up, she simple brushed them to the side and continued on her beeline for the night club.

A high end nightclub on the upper east side, was exactly the place she wanted to be on a Friday night. It was where everyone should want to be. At least that was the way she saw it. The line for the club reached halfway around the block and two large black men stood with their hands clasped before them at the front of it. The velvet red carpet leading off into the club started at the red rope line divider placed perfectly between the two men. Bouncers were meant to be intimidating, and these two by far did the job. Each of them looked like they were at one time WWF champions, one was bald with a fair sized scar reaching from the top of his head down the left side of his face, and the other had short black hair and a look that could have made blood run cold. They stood there with a stone cold expression on their faces, staring out at the hundreds of people hoping to get in, as if nothing in the world could make them flinch in their positions. Though plenty of women tried, they brushed their hands on their chests, their legs against their sides and batted long eyelashes up at them, pouting a little pretty please in their direction but it changed nothing. If anything the men appeared to be trying to hold back laughter at how often this happened and how little of an effect it had.

Between the two men there was also a third – almost midget by comparison – man. This guy had the business suit, the blonde wavy locks, and the smug grin that suggested he enjoyed the power of deciding who was let in and who wasn’t. He was the man she wanted at this moment, and as she walked past the entire line right up to him she knew she’d get him too. It was not a low cut top, long legs or even batting eyelashes that was going to win her favor with him, no this man had that thrown at him every night, he’d become impervious to it. Yet, he wasn’t going to be a hard nut to crack either.

“Back of the line.” He spoke in an accent that was easily placed as coming from Jersey. They all had distinct accents and while she should have had a Texas one, her voice was instead more like a purr of unaccented English as she leaned over the line, pulling him by his tie closer to her, and whispering a very simple proposition into his ear. Whether it had been sexual or monetary one it wasn’t clear, but what was clear was that as soon as she released his tie from her fingers, he carefully lifted up the rope line and she moved with beautifully swaying hips past, not once looking back at the suckers still standing in the lineup.

Moving into the club she smirked as the hipster music filled her ears and the chic design of the multi-level club enchanted her eyes. It was a place of the filthy rich and it streamed from the high end finishes and the well dressed patrons. Jeans and t-shirts were a fashion faux pas in a place like this, and the shorter the skirt on the women the better. Something she knew she’d fit right in with, as her own skirt was riding half way up her thighs leaving very little up to the imagination. Turning her fair share of heads she waltz up to the bar and ordered a double shot before downing them back and getting herself a long island ice tea to hold.

Round in shape, the club had three floors in total, the ground floor was made up of a large dance floor and a horse shoe shaped bar surrounding it. Stairs were on either side of the bar, each leading up to the second level where tables, booths, and lounge areas could be found. The tables were all black iron, matching the rails that overlooked the dance floor and the chairs had that nouveau design look to them, as they all had peculiar shapes and were far from looking like they might be comfortable. The walls on the first level were made up of mirrors that reflected the lights and were likely very trippy for the celebrities that were within the club looking for a different kind of fun. The third floor however was where she really wanted to be, the third floor was made up of pool tables and probably some of the richest men and women the city had to offer. Whether their money was clean or dirty, they were up there, spending it on whatever tickled their fancy. Nearly completely closed off there was only a small circle opening at the top where they too could look down on the dance floor and watch the women dancing in no manner that should ever be considered decent.

Getting up there though usually required knowing someone, as bouncers blocked every stair case. Slightly more difficult than getting into the club, but she was, if anything, resourceful. Walking up the stairs she made her way up onto the second level, taking in the sights of the club, wondering why she hadn’t bothered to come here before, it was everything she could have wanted and had plenty that were just her type in there.

All she needed was the right opportunity and she forced back the smirk that crept up onto her face as that opportunity presented itself to her. She watched one of the men walking down from the third floor, watched as he walked with his chest puffed out, eyeing up the women on the lower floors as he continued to make his way for the ground floor. He was on the prowl, it was in his eyes, in his body language and she wasn’t against using it. Drink still in hand she made her way absently up the iron stairs until carefully crashing into him as he made his way down. Ensuring maximum spillage of her drink, all over his dark blue dress shirt, and down the neatly pressed slacks. The man had a copper hair color and lively eyes that she could only describe as amber. Dressed in what was a clean pair of slacks, and a tight fitting dark blue dress shirt that had the cuffs rolled up while the top of the shirt was left open to expose a bare chest, the man looked far from being impressed over the latest addition to his outfit, the spilt long island ice tea. Yet when his eyes met hers and she gave him the batting eyelashes and the small fake tears he melted almost instantly. “Oh I’m so sorry!” She exclaimed. “My boot caught on the stair and I tripped.” It likely helped that her body had fallen into his and his hands as he pulled her straight could feel the curvy features of a well toned body, but she figured she could have gotten by on her acting alone.

The silk shirt was likely ruined but the man shook his head and told her not to worry about it, he had begun to walk away – something she hadn’t expected – when he turned around and faced her. “Do you dance?” He asked her and she knew in that moment she had him. A sheepish nod before she took his extended hand and she was moving with him onto the dance floor. Of course like most men this poor sap’s dance moves consisted of bobbing his head and waving his hands around while grabbing onto the bodies of any of the women that pressed themselves up against them. She however was not about to let that be just about anyone, and as the women on the dance floor fought for his attention she made sure to keep it. He wasn’t who she wanted, but he would get her closer to him.

His hands roaming all over her, she let him grab whatever it was he wanted, and giggled like she enjoyed it. A few songs in, and he wanted a drink. “A long island ice tea was it?” He spoke with a smirk as he brought her, arm around her, to the bar and ordered them both a drink. Replacing the drink she had lost on the stairs and getting himself a Heineken beer. From there it was up to the place she really wanted to be, and without even the slightest hiccup she was past the bouncer and on the third floor where she could almost smell the money on the saps. It didn’t take her long to ditch the man she had used like a free ticket to get up there. Opportunity knocked and she left the man in the arms of one of the waitresses as she wandered around the lavishly decorated lounge to the pool tables. There he was, the man she had made this trek for. Tall and slender, too much so in her opinion, the man had long blond hair that reached halfway down his back and was thin enough that it was likely he was also balding. It was tied in a loose ponytail but it didn’t stop it from falling onto the pool table as he leaned over to take a shot. The table surrounded by women, and men of varying sizes looked more like it was part of a competition than a friendly wager. Then again the amount of money on the side table that was part of the bet also looked like it was the prize for a competition. As he lined up his shot, she could see his opponent chewing at the inside of his lip. Honestly he looked like he might very well pass out at any moment, as a bead of sweat ran down his forehead and his eyes darted towards the pile of money repeatedly. Rounder, the man was also older, and had a shining golden ring on his left hand ring finger and likely a wife at home that had no idea he was here gambling against someone who could be playing pool professionally. The cue ball glided across the table, banking off of the called banks before connecting with the eight ball for a smooth glide into the corner pocket. It was a beautiful shot and the man who made it stood up straight, his 6’4 height catching her a little off guard as he looked across at the man who’d likely lost more than a good portion of his wealth to a big mouth and a pool shark. The man’s face was redder than a blazing inferno in that moment and his hands gripped the cue with white knuckles. Yet, before he could whip it around and act out on all the frustration that was pouring from his body language, the other men at the table had him down on the ground and disarmed while the winner paid no attention to him and enjoyed the female companions that were now showering him with attention. It was likely they were more interested in his money than him, but he was filthy rich who cared? He certainly didn’t as he kissed each one on the head and laughed as his opponent was dragged kicking and screaming off to the stairs and then ‘accidentally’ pushed down them.

Clapping her hands, she walked towards the winner, and made sure to smirk as she propped herself up on the table, not bothering with throwing herself at him. He had enough women doing that, no she wanted him to come to her. Her fingers pulling the eight ball free of the pocket, she looked it over, and turned it in her hands. “Well played.” She complimented him, “But how about you play with a real opponent, and not some rich weasel you can easily push over.”

Laughing the man watched her, not taking her challenge seriously he sat back on a stool and looked over at her. He was still a male and so the exposed skin and skimpy outfit was noted, but it was obvious that at that moment he had no intentions of taking her up on her offer. “And who would the real challenge be sweet heart? Certainly not yourself.” He grinned. “Unless of course you want to try your luck in the bedroom. I wouldn’t mind taking your little ass for a ride.”

Why were they always crude? She thought to herself before slipping off the table, and picking up the right cue. Tossing the eight ball back on the table, she waltzed back towards the table and bent over providing the cocky son of a bitch with just the right view before simply calling out the shot like she had done it hundreds of times before. Her shot was perfect, and had as much grace as his had before her. “Of course, if you’re afraid to lose, I will understand.” She stood straight tossing her loose strands of hair over her shoulder as the open mouthed man stared at her. It wasn’t that he didn’t expect women to be any good at pool, he just hadn’t met one that was as good as he was. The grin replaced the shock quickly and he pushed away from the women that were hanging off of him – much to their disappointment – before making his way over to her. His hands resting down on the pool table on either side of her he paused as he took in the sweet scent of her vanilla perfume. “And what will be the stakes there sweetheart?”

“Why don’t I make it interesting for you.” She smirked back at him, her manicured hand pushing into his chest as she shoved him back a few steps. Walking around him now, she took the chalk hanging from the wall and brushed the top of the cue, carefully blowing away the excess. “You win, you get to take this ass for a ride.” She smiled at him.

“And if you win?” He smiled back at her, obviously interested in this little wager so far. “Though I don’t think it would matter, since I doubt it’ll be an issue.” He had confidence coming out his ears.

With a small laugh she walked past him now, her finger brushing under his chin as she paused before him. “The money you just took off the poor fool before me, and you buy me a drink.” She returned before stepping up to the head of the table. “Ladies break.” She told him, without giving him much of an option. In his dumbfounded state he didn’t really seem to care, either. Instead he took his cue from one of the men that had helped his previous opponent find his way downstairs, and readied for his upcoming win. To him this was going to be a walk in the park and while she knew how to sweep the table, never giving him a chance to even take a shot, it wouldn’t get her anywhere. She made it a challenge for him but in the end she let him have the win and let him claim his prize.

Arms wrapping around her, she fought the instinct to squirm and instead grinned up at him. “My my, let’s hope you ride as well as you play then.” She spoke in a sweet tone as he once again leaned in to take in her scent. “Even better.” He returned and she found herself wanting to roll her eyes. Where did they get these attitudes?

She didn’t argue though when he took her hand and led her away from the crowds of now disappointed women towards the lower level. They were leaving much sooner than she had anticipated, then again pool was such a dirty game if one spent enough time thinking about it. Perhaps he was more wound up than she had originally thought, any way it went it was better, she’d get what she wanted soon enough. It was out onto the cool street, his arm around her as he tossed keys to a valet that promptly brought the sports car around. Sliding into the passenger seat she made herself comfortable and was certain to buckle up. These rich types were all the same. They liked speed, and they didn’t care how reckless they were with it. All the better in this case though, the sooner this was over with the better.

It had taken little more than ten minutes to get to his condo, and she was far from surprised when he brought her up to the penthouse suite at the top of the overpriced building. The suite was breathtaking with panoramic views of the city, beautiful oak floors and neutral toned walls. Expensive modern furniture and a kitchen that was likely rarely used but would have been a chefs dream. It had all the signs of a bachelor though with the shag carpets, the lack of flowers, and personal pictures and the monotone colors. Once inside though he was quick to move in close, his hands attempting to almost instantly remove her clothes as he acted on the lust of a teenager. “Hey… hey now.” She laughed, pulling back a bit. “Are we alone?”

“Of course.” He returned, pulling her back into him, expecting the entertainment he had rightly won, only to be shocked as her voice changed and the word “Perfect” rolled off of her tongue in almost a purr. Her elbow snapping up into his lower jaw, she spun sharply sweeping him off of his feet as she leveled a small pistol on his skull. Pressing her boot down onto the precious jewels she smiled down at him. “Because you and I, need to have a little chat.” She grinned as she watched his face pale, his body tremble as fear was plastered all over his eyes.

“W…w…who are you?” He stuttered out, having never seen this coming. Truthfully he should have, but men rarely saw what was right before them when they allowed the wrong head to do all the thinking.

“Victoria, but you can call me Vicky.” She told him. Her name would mean nothing in the end, he wasn’t leaving that condo alive. But just how much he wasn’t leaving it alive she had no idea. Her mouth had opened to ask the important questions when the sound of a helicopter caught her attention. Turning swiftly she barely had enough time to throw herself out of the line of fire as the machine gun opened fire shattering the floor to ceiling windows that had provided such a sensational view of the city only moments earlier. Her man was nothing more than Swiss cheese as the helicopter lifted back up into the air, flying away from the scene it had just created and Vicky stared out at him, with her heart racing. That had been closer than she had ever wanted and she was cursing up a storm as she crouched low to the ground and made her way across the blood stained floor to the victim. There was no use checking for a pulse, he had likely died rather quickly, but her fingers felt his neck anyway and she pulled back just as the door to the condo flew open. Kicked in, it slammed into the wall before falling back towards the person who kicked as Vicky leapt to her feet and leveled her weapon on the man. Her eyes widened for only a moment as she stared back at the man she had seen earlier that night. The scent of urine on his clothes almost overpowered the scent of blood. “FBI FREEZE.” The man shouted, his gun aimed steadily on her chest.

At that moment, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or if she wanted to cry. “CIA.” She stated firmly, as she lowered her weapon and allowed the man to take it from her. Somewhere someone screwed up and when she found them, she was going to make sure they paid.

Along with my goal to read more books, and listen to more advice I’m planning on working to have “Sunday Shorts”. Sunday shorts would be a series of short stories revolving around some of my less use characters or characters that I’ve had to write out of my stories. As much as I love writing for my main character, I can’t give away my novel. It would allow me the break I need from my regular writing without sacrificing writing in general. After all it’s important to write at least a little bit each day and I plan to stick to that particular piece of advice. Short stories allow me the ability to enjoy less used characters often in different settings without the major amounts of planning or time. Though I’m certain I have no idea what short is, since short to me is a four novel series for my first publication… not exactly very “short”.
Anyway, if you’re looking for something to do on the weekend, when you’re relaxing pop by the blog and Sunday morning there should be a short story there for you.

Now I know it’s been almost a month since it happened (actually looking at the calendar it’s been one month), and that I promised I would write this, but I’ve been busy and excuses aside, I’m getting to it now.
This blog is the piece you’re missing if you’ve read my Thursday blog from Ireland. When I said I left a lot out I did. On the Thursday as we stayed in a beautiful castle – the most beautiful one we stayed in the whole trip – Ben asked me to marry him. Most by now have heard me tell the story of how it happened, and for those who haven’t this post will be an amusing read I’m sure. Thankfully unlike my other posts, it’ll be a much shorter read.

After we arrived at the castle, we had taken the time to go for a walk around the grounds and take some pictures, and we took some time to cuddle and just enjoy the luxury of the room we were staying in. As I mentioned before the room was the largest room we were staying in and was more of a suite than a room. There was a bedroom, a small “living room” and a bathroom larger than my bedroom at home with beautiful marble floors and the claw foot tub everyone is always talking about. So with a little eagerness I went trotting off to use the tub, washing up before dinner and enjoying the bubbles of my bubble bath while Ben just relaxed in the bedroom. Afterwards we had to get ready for dinner and so I eagerly set all my make up on the vanity and sat down applying it carefully, with a little excitement. The restaurant was a fancy place, in what would have been the castle’s great hall and with a chef that had quite the praise around him. I was looking forward to it. Now Ben was getting ready around me and I honestly don’t remember seeing him move around and do what he had to do but once I finished putting on my make up I had gone into the other room to retrieve my toothbrush in order to not have crappy breath when I was down there.

I sat down on the couch and was rooting through my bag when I noticed that Ben was in a way looming over me. Now he likes to do this on occasion, stand over me and watch whatever it is I might be watching or doing at that time. So I really only thought to ask him, what it was he was doing, not to see what was coming next. I turned around and there he was on one knee before me. Of course there were words to go with this but after hearing him say my full name, I’m not quite sure what they were. I’m sure with his ability to be an absolute sweetheart and such they were romantic and exactly what I would want to hear, but after my name it was “Oh my god!” Repeatedly, in my head, and as Ben would say spoken words. Though I don’t remember much speaking. Just lots of trembling and as Ben likes to tell me “A sprinkler system” in my eyes. I had streaks of black (Ben called it “Sad Clown”) running down my face as my waterproof mascara was yet to dry and I was trembling as I casually took the ring box from his hand and turned it around.

Yes in all his own nerves and trembling he had presented the absolutely stunning rings to me upside down. Adorable as he was, he smiled and laughed as I told him, “Yes” repeatedly and tried to put the much to small for my ring finger, ring, onto my hand. I was never more happy than to see his smile as he looked at me and we shared a kiss.

The rest of the night I had a hard time even remembering my room “name” let alone speaking in coherent sentences. This writer was at a loss for words, but boy was she ever happy.