Post by steph6 on Dec 20, 2012 14:34:23 GMT -5
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[style=width:350px; font-family: josefin sans; font-size: 30px; letter-spacing: 0px; text-align:center; color: #000; line-height: 80%; text-transform: uppercase; padding-bottom: 5px;]BRYCE JASPER BENTLEY
CRIMINAL. STEPH. PARKER HURLEY. MUSICIAN/HITMAN. 25. SHORT FUSED. BLUNT. WOMANIZER.
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,386,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, width:130px; height: 200px; background-image: url(http://i45.tinypic.com/10y4bcy.png);][/style] | [style=height: 180px; overflow: auto; font-size: 9px;]All is fair in love and war. Or not. Leaning against the brick wall, he lit up an expensive cancer stick and took a drag while running his fingers through his unruly bed head of dark blonde hair. He normally had it in a very militant buzz cut but he’d been growing out for the past few months. He didn’t have the time to fly to his favorite barber to fix it up. Clad in a dark gray button up, some jeans, and loafers, her looked the picture of perfection in such a relaxed state. The night was thick, like a dark blanket covering Boston and oh how he despised this city. He was from France, originally. A tiny country town tucked away from the world. He had come to America when he was eleven – straight to New York City – and it was there he met his best friends, his band mates, and together they somehow managed to make it big. Glancing up at a billboard on top of a building, he could see their picture for their new album coming out next month. His hair was buzz cut in the photo. He really needed to get that haircut. But he was here on a mission. Besides the work he was doing for the record label, he had his own side vices he’d been doing since before the band even got signed. They weren’t all in the business. Of course not. He was a contracted, cold blooded, killer – and dealer. But he found that dealing was what he did when his first profession was being slow. Like a hobby if anything. He hadn’t been hired as of recently – not for the past month with his schedule being booked with the band – but he found the perfect target. Maybe he didn’t want to kill her…so, that might be a bit too cruel and he wouldn’t be getting paid to do it so it would be a waste of getting his hands dirty…he just wanted his money back. Plain and simple. She stole from him. He had to replace his drummer because of her. Though the band took off even more without that sleaze ball, they’d been friends since childhood. She ruined more than just his bank account and womanizing reputation (which of course he bounced back from quickly. He wasn’t an idiot really as long as he wasn’t distracted with her.) but he lost a lifelong friendship and had to deal with recontracting, fixing up a large pile of shit she created. You could say that was what he got for thinking with the wrong head. But As Bentley leaned against the building, half hidden by shadows, sucking on his cigarette as if it were joint, his ashy blue orbs watched as she stepped out from a night club, swaying and laughing, a bundle of red cheeks and mused inky black hair. She was still stunning, he couldn’t lie to himself or anyone about that fact. The problem was that she knew she was stunning and used it to her advantage. He didn’t plan on falling for her shit again. He just wanted his money and he’d leave her be. That’s it. If anything, he’d have no problem putting her business on blast. She could put him on blast for all eh cared – she’d have no proof. She didn’t know he was a hit man. He didn’t trust anyone with that information. She knew he was a dealer, sure, but the media knew he was tangled up in the drug game. What was she going to tell anyone? That his dick was pierced? Hardly any news there. Either way, he was going to get back at her even if it meant sticking her pretty, plump ass in jail for a couple years. She slipped away into a taxi with a few other females and he remained where he was, serenely finishing his cigarette before slipping into his sleek black Charger and rolling all the windows to let the fresh night air in. He was going to treat her like another target and nothing more. Watch her patterns, her behaviors though he was sure he pretty much nailed her down to a science – people did sometimes change slightly. He needed to know her like the back of his hand before he swooped in and pulled the world out from underneath her. The bitch would never know what hit her. |
