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Chapter Five
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Mod
I love this!!!! You are a great author!!!
Mod
Mod
Mod
Good point. But in your published one, you could just change the details a bit... or you can say the stuff online was a preveiw.
You could change it, because obviously if you wanted to publish it, it would go through an editor. Then, you could delete this and we would all get the book!
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Mod
:)
Bird’s here. I’m leaving. I sign to my dad
Have fun today. My dad replies
“Bye, mom!”
“Bye, honey!”
I open the door, expecting Bird or Piers, but what I see are two suits. Two men, wearing sunglasses, black suits, and ties.
“Gwen Reynolds?” The one on the left asks me.
I go for the most logical thing to say. “Who’s asking for her?”
“Are you Guinevere Bridgette Fawn Reynolds?” Left suit asks me again.
“There’s no need for the entire list of names.” I say, as I press my index finger to the sensor next to the door. It’s designed to lock up the hive and it only works with my dad’s fingerprint, or mine. “Just tell me who’s looking for her, and I’ll get her. She’s right inside.”
“Just come with us, miss.” Right suit cuts in. “Don’t try anything. We got the place surrounded.
“One second.” I look at my clothes. I’m wearing my cheerleader uniform. “Let me grab my coat.”
**
I’m in the back of the SUV, sandwiched between the two suits.
“Anyone ready to tell me where we’re going?"
Both suits don’t reply.
“Does anyone have a bottle of water?”
Silence.
“How ‘bout an apple?”
The suits give no response.
“An orange? Cucumber? Apricots? Cranberries? Watermelon? Strawberries? Lemon juice?”
“Will you shut up?” The driver yells eventually.
“Will your suits start talking?” I yell back.
The driver doesn’t reply, but drives into the garage of a big building.
I’m ushered out of the car and into the elevator to the top floor.
“Ms Reynolds is here to see him.” Left suit tell the secretary.
“Him?” I say. “Who’s him?”
Him turned out to be a dude somewhere in his forties. He’s wearing a grey suit that looks like it’s from last spring’s Armani collection. He’s on the phone when I enter the door between the suits.
“No, no I’m afraid that can’t work. I’ve no interest in the matter if you offer only that. I-” he looks up. “I got to go. I’ll- No, Jacob, I- Jacob, I’ll call you tomorrow.”
I look at the Armani suit. “Who’s Jacob?” I ask as innocent as I can manage.
“Stephen, who’s this?” Armani suit asks one of my suits.
“Ms Reynolds, sir.” Left suit replies.
“This is Ms Reynolds? This little cheerleader?”
“And who are you, fancy Armani pants?” I say defiantly.
“My name is Wilbur Wortham.”
“Wortham? As in Wortham Industries, the company that makes security systems? What do you want with me?”
“You are Guinevere Reynolds, aren’t you? Well, then, you’re here to explain a few things.”