Kyle Monroewood had finally caught a break, feeling his already evident relaxation, even as he sat on his outdoor terrace recliner, rethinking most of his life choices. The cool night breeze was whistling its usual song, along with the wilderness, and the human intervention it surrounded.
It was only expected that an artist like himself would be considered reputable, and worthy of being put on display at an awards dinner. A place where everyone of significance was present, a place where everyone of high wealth, social status, and connections grasped the opportunity to make themselves more recognized than they already were. Even Kyle perceived it like this too. And he was going to take this opening by the reins, after all it was more than serendipity. It came with his impenetrable and laborious will.
Kyle started drumming his fingers on the armrest of the recliner, and as if on cue, another sound joined his miniature instrumental ensemble. There came the other half of his life, the half that he always had to put up for reconsideration, and it literally called him. His cell phone gave off rapid vibrations and he allowed at least 10 seconds to pass before he actually answered it, deeply contemplating the possibility of another major project.
“Wood, I got something for you. I'm sending you her background check right now,” the speaker went by the name of Harold Harlacher and assertion was laced in his tone as Kyle opened the sent document. Harold continues, “Her name's Claire Reid Marie-Winston. Recently got married to that hot shot judge. And if I'm not mistaken... I think you know her… Well, that's your new task. Read the doc. You know how to deal with nuisances.”
Then he hung up.
It was only expected that an artist like himself would be considered reputable, and worthy of being put on display at an awards dinner. A place where everyone of significance was present, a place where everyone of high wealth, social status, and connections grasped the opportunity to make themselves more recognized than they already were. Even Kyle perceived it like this too. And he was going to take this opening by the reins, after all it was more than serendipity. It came with his impenetrable and laborious will.
Kyle started drumming his fingers on the armrest of the recliner, and as if on cue, another sound joined his miniature instrumental ensemble. There came the other half of his life, the half that he always had to put up for reconsideration, and it literally called him. His cell phone gave off rapid vibrations and he allowed at least 10 seconds to pass before he actually answered it, deeply contemplating the possibility of another major project.
“Wood, I got something for you. I'm sending you her background check right now,” the speaker went by the name of Harold Harlacher and assertion was laced in his tone as Kyle opened the sent document. Harold continues, “Her name's Claire Reid Marie-Winston. Recently got married to that hot shot judge. And if I'm not mistaken... I think you know her… Well, that's your new task. Read the doc. You know how to deal with nuisances.”
Then he hung up.
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