Hey guys! Long time no post, huh? Sorry it’s taken me so long to find my way back here but hopefully I’ll be back to making somewhat regular posts. To start that off here’s the first story for my collection of Remy Gutherie Stories. I wrote this one quite a while ago (at least a year and half ago) and only three other stories have followed so far though I have many ideas for the collection.
I also have a board on pinterest for this story located HERE. Check it out for random bits that may make their way into a future story as well as pictures of Jason Statham the face claim for Remy.
I’ll post the next 3 stories shortly plus perhaps a few other things. Enjoy!
Summary: Remy Guthrie is a Private I by day, a bodyguard (for hire; he wasn’t free) and a (reformed!) criminal. Life isn’t exactly easy for him.
xXx
There are three things Remy Guthrie knew for sure.
One – People lie; more than you thought and not as often as you would think.
Two – People are never what they seem.
Three – The world is dangerous.
Those three rules were important when you were a police officer, a private I, a bodyguard and a criminal. Remy was three of those things. A private I by day, a bodyguard (for hire; he wasn’t free) and a (reformed!) criminal. Obviously he wasn’t very trusted in this town.
Being a criminal meant that he wasn’t trusted by law enforcement; being a reformed criminal meant that the underground criminal world didn’t know if they could trust him, if he was trying pull off a gig or if he was giving tips and snitching to the police, and the police did try to have him snitch on things; which all in all got his ass kicked by both sides of the field.
Being a reformed criminal, bodyguard and P.I wasn’t easy. When people found out, well… Would you trust him?
Remy ran his hand over his head, taking his eyes off of the window across the street to grab his pack of cigarettes off his desk. Fishing his lighter out of his pocket, he lit the cancer stick and tossed the lighter onto the desk, watching it skip across it before settling next to his long grown cold coffee. Remy inhaled deeply, looking back to the window that had been dark for way too long.
Grabbing the cigarette and pulling it out of his mouth, Remy exhaled a few puffs of smoke. Clasping his mouth around the cigarette again and crossing his arms across his chest, Remy leaned against his dark cherry wood desk.
Remy kept his stance relaxed, reaching a hand down to his hip as he heard the slight squeak of his door being opened. Looking over his shoulder as his hand grasped the cool metal of his Colt M1911 pistol.
Turning around, Remy gave the young woman a glance over; Remy took in her features committing them to memory.
With amber red hair in a choppy hairstyle and green eyes hidden behind glasses, she had a nice face; cute even.
Remy watched her, tilt her head to the right and make her own assessment of him, wondering if she could trust him. A soft timid smile raced her lips.
“Those things will kill you, y’know?”
It seemed that he had a new case.