Past-Part Fills Post 1 -- CLOSED
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Antonio fled from his makeshift shelter, and both he and Francis were out the door within seconds. Gilbert was a bit further behind them, yet he still nearly crashed into his friends when he reached the curb.
It took him a moment to realize why.
They were standing where the car had been. Had been. Now, the Mini was nowhere to be seen.
In retrospect, they agreed that a lot of things about the heist had been a bad idea. Leaving a skittish Italian in charge of the car, even if his family did have mafia ties, was one of them.
And that was strike three.
--
Whilst Antonio, Gilbert, and Francis were standing perplexed on the curb (only to decide a moment later that just standing around was a terrible idea), Lovino was five miles away, chanting a steady rhythm of "Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!" under his breath.
There had been gunfire. Gunfire! He'd known this was a terrible idea from the start, and he should have never agreed to it, and Antonio was a moron for thinking that it was okay, and Gilbert was a moron for coming up with it in the first place.
And Francis was just a pervert.
He didn't want to have anything more to do with their plan, their stupid operation, but the sudden alarm that triggered his natural preference to flight over fight was fading now, and something (that was most definitely not worry, or anything like worry) was gnawing away at him now. Punctuating his muttered mantra with a final exclamation of "God damn it!" he made a sharp U-turn in the narrow town streets.
The idiots owed him big time for this.
--
Everyone loved Tex.
He could be a little simple-minded at times, true, but he was the kind of person who had a positively infectious personality. Even if a careless comment from the young man inadvertently set someone off, it was impossible to stay mad at him for long because he didn't really mean it. It was miscommunication, or misinterpretation, or plain ol' honest-to-God naïveté.
Tex was sunshine and a positive attitude and smiles-especially smiles. The girls liked to whisper to each other about how handsome he was and how his million-watt grin could make anyone go weak at the knees. They took turns attempting to catch his eye and woo him, but he was always the gentleman, always oblivious, and always single. But that was alright, they reasoned: it was part of his boyish charm.
He was open and honest, and he was dependable. He was the one people turned to when they were in a tough spot. Tex would smile, offer a cup of coffee, and listen to anyone's troubles-and then he'd do his best to help fix things.
Some might even say he was the town's hero. Everyone loved Tex.
But the man who was charging out of the bank that morning, with a grim look on his face and a pistol in either hand was not Tex. No, "Tex" had been left behind in the vault, and the people he'd worked with for the past year weren't sure what had caused the change in him. He walked like Tex and talked like Tex (almost; his usual subtle drawl had been left in the vault, as well), but for the first time, they realized that maybe-just maybe-there was something they didn't know about him.
And they were right, because "Tex" wasn't even his name.
His name was Alfred F. Jones, codename "America," and he was a federal agent.
Notes and translations:
café con leche: (Sp.) lit. "coffee with milk," a common Spanish drink of strong coffee mixed with scalded milk
Je refuse: (Fr.) I refuse
laideur: (Fr.) ugliness
Mais oui, chéri: (Fr.) Of course, darling
traje de luces: (Sp.) lit. "suit of lights," a Matador's outfit
nom de guerre: (Fr.) lit. "name of war"
Thanks so much to everyone who left a comment… I hope you enjoyed this part!d
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Wonderful part. I was cracking up throughout :D I look forward to more ♥
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Glad you liked it! :D
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