Second Chance

A sniper crashed

fThe air was thick with the scent of broccoli.

"WHAT ON EARTH IS A LOUIS LIDGLETON??!!" I exclaimed, fuming—mostly frustrated that even from beyond the grave, this guy could still get under my skin.

Mr. Derson shook his head and let out a weary sigh. "He's the son of Klark Lidgleton, the guy who tore down the L&C Orphanage to build the biggest pool in the world."

I slammed my fist onto the table, pushed myself up, and grabbed Mr. Derson by the arm. He quickly fumbled for his phone. "Mrs. Millers, where are we headed? Shouldn’t I explain a bit more?"

"I don’t know where we’re going; let’s just get moving!" I shouted, gently pulling him out of the store. Mr. Derson followed along without a hint of complaint about my anger or how I was dragging him into my drama—he was just there, going with the flow.

We found a bench, and Mr. Derson plopped down, breathing heavily. "I wonder how many calories I just burned," he said, loosening his tie. I settled down at the other end of the bench, lost in thought about what I really wanted.

"Do you know why Oscar wants me to remarry?", I asked him watching as he soaked himself into nature. "I don't know, Mrs Millers, I doubt it's something good". I sank into the bench, closing my eyes and letting the birds screeching songs take over.

"He can keep his money".

Los Angeles, California. Sesame House

The sound of the bullet slicing through the air was softer than Zena had recalled, and its unwavering path sent chills racing down her spine.

She was thrilled by it.

“Quit being so weird and get me some real targets,” Louis said, reloading the g*n for another shot. This was his fifth consecutive bull's-eye.

Zena hopped off the little cliff she'd been perched on, stretching her neck and fingers with satisfaction. “Want to hear something even more exciting than shooting?”

Louis kept his gaze fixed on the target, prepared to fire. “I find it hard to believe such things exist,” he replied, pulling the trigger when he thought the moment was just right. Zena picked up an empty chip bag lying on the ground and began tearing it into tiny pieces.

Remember that guy Oscar—the one who owed you money?" Louis nodded, putting the g*n back on the table and giving it a gentle pat, as if it were his beloved child. "That guy never settled up with me, but the Boss has some reason for keeping him alive. Someday, though, I'm definitely going to deal with him."

Zena flashed a smirk and slid a small file across the table. "He’s dead," she declared. Those words made Louis turn to her, despite his annoyance with her ever-present grin. "What took him out?" he inquired.

"Why do you think it was a thing that did him in and not a person?" Zena asked, genuinely intrigued. Louis plopped down in a chair and picked up the file. "That guy had connections; people like that aren't killed by people," he said. Zena chuckled, nodding her head, as she kicked off her shoes and cracked her toes.

"I heard he promised you something as payment, but I bet you thought he was just bluffing," Zena continued, her voice light and teasing in rhythm with the popping sounds. "Some ridiculous claim about marrying his wife after he died. Can you believe he thought I’d accept his leftovers?

Zena flipped through the file until she landed on a photo of a girl with tousled dirty blonde hair, likely in her early twenties. "She’s still pretty young, especially since her little husband, Oscar, passed away so tragically. Don’t you want to get in on this?"

Louis tossed the file onto the table, crossed his legs, and ran his fingers through his hair. "It’s either this, or I start chopping his lifeless body into bite-sized pieces. I need to get paid one way or another." Zena jumped up with excitement, clapping her hands. "I’m so proud of you!" she exclaimed.

Louis lingered on the photo for a moment longer before letting out a sigh. "Do you have more details on her?" he asked Zena, fully aware of her relentless determination to dig up information, no matter the cost.

"Her name's Kourtney. She’s 22, raised in California by her struggling single mom. And it looks like her older sister has passed away too," Zena shared eagerly. Louis took in the information, noting how it seemed like she was no stranger to hardship.

“Does your husband know about Oscar's promise?” Louis teased, playfully grabbing her foot, which had already ended up near his face, in an attempt to kick him. Zena quickly pulled her leg away and crossed her arms.

“First off, call him Boss, not my husband. And h j secondly, don’t disrespect your boss’s wife,” she replied with a mix of playfulness and seriousness, clearly valuing her husband more than she let on.

“I don’t care,” he shot back. “Just answer the question.” Zena sighed in disappointment, “I kept my mouth shut, are you happy now?!”

Louis nodded, noticing she was barefoot and her shoes were scattered around haphazardly. “Did she have any kids with Oscar?” he pressed one last time. Zena raised a finger and shook her head, “Nope.”

‘Are they unable to have kids or…?’ Louis inquired, hoping she’d catch his drift. Zena tapped her index finger twice on the table, a little gesture she used when she was unsure about something. She always felt too embarrassed to voice it out loud.

‘Let’s go,’ he said, leading the way to the door. Zena trailed behind quietly until they reached his ride, a striking Cadillac Celestiq. Its bold Vermillion Metallic exterior gleamed like a flashy red sports car.

‘How much did you shell out for this beauty?’ Zena asked, trying to mask her awe.

‘You can't count that high.’ Louis replied, settling into the driver’s seat and locking the door before she could pounce on him—his smooth getaway.

Zena yanked open the back door and slid in. ‘If you make a move against me now, I’ll let go of the wheel, and we’ll both be toast!’, Louis exclaimed.

Louis chuckled lightly as Zena rolled her eyes, staring out the window as they hit the road.

She mindlessly hummed a tune as he held the steering with hand ,and his phone in the other.

Louis narrowed his eyes while watching a car on the road, thinking it looked like the driver was losing control. He instinctively moved away from the vehicle, not bothered by what might be wrong with it.

As the car veered in their direction, drawing nearer and nearer, he shouted, "Hey, you reckless i***t—"