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Breathless	By : xCookingWinex Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Aiden Views: 1882 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Aiden. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Thanks again for your patience. You guys are saints.
Chapter 13
Knock.
Don’t knock.
Knock.
Don’t knock! Don’t be an idiot!
Wil had been standing outside her apartment, praying she might come back to the door. Ten minutes had passed. And then twenty. And he’d sure now it’d been half an hour since he dropped her off. No movement from her end, from what he could tell.
He sighed, being so sure there was something there. Just a little something.
Maybe it’s just the coke talking. So much for no emotion, you dick.
He shuffled around in the same spot for a few minutes. There wasn’t a point in waiting, was there? She obviously was tired and just wanted to sleep.
He trundled down the stairs from her flat, letting out a big sigh. He ripped off the cheap, black tie he had on, and chucked it into the stair well.
Stepping out on to the street, he was greeted with a face full of rain. He sighed again, a deep angry sound. It seemed even the elements were against him.
He took a right from Alyn’s apartment building, walking down the road, his head high, facing the rain straight on. Might as well keep a brave face, he thought.
He walked passed a closed, run down 7/11, next to a small pet shop called “ Murray’s”, that he remembered from when he was younger. Peter Murray owned the place, and he used to be popular with everyone, especially children. It turned out he was paedophile.
Go figure.
As he rounded onto Washington Street, he heard a commotion further down the road. Squinting through the hard rain, he saw the rich, upper class people spilling out from the Seattle Theatre. “Cats”, the musical, had been playing there for as long as Wil could remember and it always seemed to be packed, and over flowing with the drunk and disgustingly rich.
He watched them silently; the thoughts of Alyn and all that had happened that night slipped away, as new and devious ideas entered his mind. He slid into a dark alley, watching as cars pulled up for the men and women outside the theatre.
They must be worth so much.
He checked the pocket of his dinner jacket. No coke, no money. He looked back at the people across the road, taking in all of their expensive clothes and shiny new jewellery.
Surely they wouldn’t miss fifty bucks?
Straightening down his hair as much as he could, and trying to straighten out his suit, he walked across the road, trying to not draw attention to himself. He felt slightly out of place for not wearing a tie, and wished he hadn’t taken his off. Everyone around was too busy to look at him, and his attire, anyway. He joined the crowd, sneaking in effortlessly. He spotted an older lady by herself, desperately searching in her purse for something. She was walking slowly, staring intently into her Louis Vuitton bag. Her high heels really were high, and while walking towards her, Wil wondered how she could walk in them, how any woman could wear heels; they looked so uncomfortable. The rain was not as heavy now, but it was heavy enough, he reasoned, for it to look like she might slip for being careless …
He stuck his foot out slightly as the woman stomped around; still looking in this bag like it was going to reveal a coat rack, like Mary Poppins or something. She kicked the side of his foot and tripped forward, the contents of her bag falling all over the ground. Wil, acting the gentleman, reached out and grabbed her to stop her from falling.
“Oh my word!” she exclaimed. “I really should pay more attention! At least one of us was watching where I was going!”
He allowed a casual chuckle, as he bent to pick up her things, “Yes, I had a horrible image of you slipping. Those heels are simply tremendous!”
She laughed too, his attempt at complex vocabulary obviously passing for acceptable.
“They are indeed. My husband told me to wear them; I’m so short without them.”
He gathered up her cell phone, a hand held computer, two purses of different sizes, a make up bag and a glasses case.
“Well, you know what they say,” he said, while getting up. “Best things come in small packages.”
She giggled again, tapping his arm, “Oh, you. Thank you for getting my things; I can barely see a thing without my glasses.”
“That’s okay,” he passed her what he held in his hands. “Here. I hope your things aren’t damaged.”
“Oh, there’s my cell! I was looking everywhere for it.”
“Have a good night, ma’am,” he smiled, bowing slightly. “I’ll be out of your way.”
“Thank you for your help.”
“Pleasure’s all mine.”
And it really was. He walked briskly down the road and turned the corner onto Daisy Avenue. He opened the smaller purse he had taken from the woman, and inside he saw a wedge of notes wrapped around a credit card. Jackpot.
Time to head over to Jake’s place.
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