Good morning. I hope everyone is doing well. Personally I figured out what exercise my rear end did not care for and I skipped it. I figured easing into that one slowly is a good plan. And so the day progresses with no real aches and just a need fo coffee. Which I will get when the writing prompt is done. Mostly because if I pour it before then it will sit for the fifteen minutes when I am writing it. So coffee delay. In case you were wondering. Now on with the prompt!
My writing prompts this week have come out a lot more murder-y than usual. I wonder why. I don’t feel particularly violent. But who knows, maybe I would if I didn’t writ it.
Wednesday, April 19th: He was like putty in my hands.
“He was like putty in my hands. All I had to do was mention the possibility of a grant and he was all smiles and eagerness,” Gina said. Heath smiled back.
“Excellent,” he replied. “So we can proceed as planned?”
“We can,” she said. “He is going to drop off the tickets to the gala in the morning,” she said. “We will be able to slip in with the other donors without drawing attention.”
Heath laughed. “You are incredible,” he said.
“I know,” Gina replied. “He didn’t even check to see what foundation I was with. All that work setting up the website and fake credentials and none of it checked. I know I am believable but I do hate my efforts to be wasted.”
“I am sure we can find some use for it. After all, you did put so much effort into it that it would be a shame not to use it. It was spectacular.”
Gina preened a little in his praise although she did her best to pretend it didn’t affect her. She wasn;t the sort that needed praise from anyone, or so she always claimed. It wouldn’t do to let him see how his affected her.
‘Still it is good to be appreciated,’ she thought as she hung up her coat.
“Do the tickets will be here in the morning?” he asked. “Did you set up an in town office I didn’t know about? Do I need to pretend to be your man Friday?”
“An amusing thought,” she said. “But no. I am visiting from out of town remember? He is leaving them at the front desk of the hotel.”
“Of course,” he said. He walked over to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of champagne. She watched as he popped the cork and poured it into two glasses. “To the faboulos Winstead Foundation and it’s glorious creator,” he said handing her one of the glasses. He set the bottle down and lifted his glass from the table.
“I always think every successful endeavor should be celebrated with champagne,” he said,
“Agreed,” Gina replied. “But we haven’t been successful yet.”
“Which is why this is only domestic sparkling wine,” he told her. “With each phase complete we get better and better bubbly.”
Gina laughed. “Now that I can definitely appreciate.”
They clinked their glasses and drank. The champagne was frosty against her lips but she didn’t drink. She still had work to do and didn’t want to be compromised. She felt it was a fitting reward for her efforts and decided she would take Heath’s plan and make it her own. Varying degrees of champagne accompanying all her future efforts. If tonight went well she would make up for this lack by purchasing a bottle for tomorrow. Then her work would be done and she could enjoy it.
She smiled. It was almost done. She rarely worked with anyone, especially not for this length of time. But Heath had a way about him that made him less onerous than any of the people she worked with before.
‘Soon enough it will be done,’ she thought. ‘And then I will be back to being on my own.’ The thought brought a little sadness, but she pushed it away. After that one sip, she set the glass down and stepped away. Delightful or not, there was still work to do. Heath tossed back his glass as she left the room. She laid out her tasks and began to work. Ten minutes later she heard a thump and went to investigate. She found Heath on the floor, dead.
Ten til Midnight 