Part 366: Stranglehold

The bar was a dive by most standards but for a few members of it’s patrons, it was almost becoming a second home. Sawyer twisted pool stick around and then aimed at the white ball on the pool table. He jabbed the stick and let it fly. The white ball hit the corner ball and allowed it slide into the pouch at the side. The blonde sitting on the counter nearby giggled, as she sipped on her beer. “Nice shot, Sawyer,” she laughed.

“Yeah, that’s just what they all say, Sam,” he smiled.

“You are too much!” she said, trying to keep the beer from coming up her nose.

“How kind of you to notice.” He said, rearing up for his neck shot, “You should you don’t want to play a few games with me?”

“No, I just like to watch you play. Besides, you’d beat me.”

“No, I’d let you win,” he chuckled in a coy manner.

Then the bell above the doorway to the bar rang out, signaling someone was stepping in. By instinct, Sawyer looked over to see who it was and wished he hadn’t. Gordy stepped in, along with a bruiser Sawyer knew simply as Shane. The big black man walked over to the bar and sat down at the stool, ordering a beer. The balding con man walked up to Sawyer and just stared at him. The redneck took his mug and gulped down the rest of his beer. “I could have sworn I smelled dog crap,” he chuckled.

“How you doing, James?” the older con man said.

“Just fine. Just . .peachy keen, Gordy,” Sawyer then turned toward Samantha, “Run along home, baby doll. I’ll call ya.”

“Okay,” the blond didn’t argue; she didn’t like the way Gordy looked at her.

“Nice to see you’re still picking up the twats,” Gordy replied as they started to walk toward the bar.

“Is there something I can help you with?” Sawyer grunted as he got another beer.

“No, nothing in particular, James,” the bald man said, sitting on the stool, “Rumor has it, you’re out of the con game.”

“Rumor is true,” he said, sipping his beer, “I ain’t got no reason to do it anymore.”

“Well, that’s good. I want to make sure you stay out.”

“Why, Gordy,” the redneck laughed, “You’re worried I might ruin your scouts or something?”

“You’re a famous man now, James.” Gordy whispered, “Surviving that crash made you too high profile. I want to make sure none of your past gets back to me.”

“It won’t, Gordy,” Sawyer assured him, “ I had one interview with Time Magazine, other than that, the world has saw fit to leave me alone.”

“Then enjoy your retirement. I won’t bother to ask what you do, besides hang out at pool halls and pick up girls younger than you.”

“I guess. . .I wasn’t quite ready to let go of that particular stripe.” The redneck laughed, remembering Gordy’s tiger and it’s stripes speech.

“Well, then, I guess I’ll take off,” the balding con man whispered as he started to put money on the counter for his and Shane’s beer, “Say, James . . .you remember Cassidy?”

Sawyer slowly sipped his beer, letting it drip gently from his lips. Gordy had no right bringing up her name. She was the one woman he felt like he truly loved. He had taken over 600 thousand dollars from her cause he owed Gordy at the time. The redneck slowly turned to face him. “What about her?” he whispered.

“Funny thing.” He coughed, “After about three weeks to your trip to Australia, she and I met up in a particular diner. I thought she would be pissed about how we swindled her out of the money but she wasn’t. In fact, I decided to put her to work.”

“Is that right?” Sawyer sneered.

“Yeah, you taught her well. Even started to con me. Managed to get 12 thousand of my money before I figured out what she was up to.”

“Well, don’t I feel like the proud papa. Let me guess . .you want me to get your money back?”

“No, I got my money back. I got it back the easy way,” Gordy said, pulling out an envelope from his back pocket and putting it on the counter, “I just wanted you to hear it from me before you read about it on the internet or something.”

“Read what?” Sawyer said, taking the envelope.

“It’s a shame those slippery wet roads. Person should really know how to drive on them properly,” Gordy started to walk away, “ Think about it, James. And good luck with your new life.”

Sawyer started at the man as he and his black bodyguard walked out of the bar. The redneck twisted around and slowly opened the envelope. He was afraid of what it was going to show him. He slowly opened it and saw that it had a newspaper clipping inside. He gently opened it up and looked it. The southern man immediately recognized Cassidy’s face in the picture, next to a massive car crash picture. He quickly read over it and according to the newspaper, the car had swerved off a slippery road during the rain and careened off a bridge. The woman died on impact. There were reports that a dent in her door showed that someone possibly ran her off the road but the police had no suspects. Sawyer slowly crumbled the newspaper article in his hand. Gordy had all but admitted that he had done it.

However, the redneck didn’t blame the balding con man; he blamed himself. Had he not brought Cassidy down that path, she might have still been alive. He then reminded himself of all the other women and their husbands, with the lives he helped destroyed. It made him feel like he was about to vomit.


After the short drive to his house, Sawyer opened the door and walked in. He gently started to unbutton his flannel shirt but didn’t bother to take it off. He calmly walked over to the fireplace mantel and helped himself to the awaiting Jack Daniels. The redneck sat down and began to drink the bourbon, feeling it burn his throat. He coughed as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve. Then he felt the onset of tears. He tried to stifle them but they were flowing too easy. He did love Cassidy and he blamed himself for getting her involved with Gordy.

The southern man wiped his tears as he continued to drink. He then let the bottle rest between his legs as she reached down between the seat cushions. He slowly pulled up an item folded with a wash cloth. As he un-wrapped it, it was revealed to be a Glock 9MM. He slowly let the pistol rest on his leg as he continued to drink. After a few minutes of hard swigs, he put the bottle down on the end table. As he did, he saw the Polaroid of him and Shanna resting against the bottom of the lamp.

He picked it up and looked at it; remembering the warmth it made him feel. It was a rainy night when she came over, before her big trip out to Alabama and her home town in Oregon. She said she wanted to be with him before she wouldn’t see him for long periods of time. Shanna had taken to hear when Sawyer told her he wasn’t the settling down type. But he cherished the time he did get to spend with her. The photo was taken by herself as she held it aloft when they were in bed together. Sawyer smirked as he remembered he was half away at the time. He even remember how beautiful Shanna’s body was and the freckles that adorned her upper chest.

The word “Freckles” then wound up in head and he immediately thought of Kate. Their small time on the boat. And holding onto her as she dangled over the giant pit that the big robot came out of. He missed her incredibly and he regretted not being able to show her how much he cared by making love to her. Sawyer took one more swig from the Jack Daniels and then held up the gun. “It’s . .better this way, Freckles,” he whispered, “and for . . Cherry too. This way . .I don’t get the chance to ruin your lives.”

Sawyer wiped the gun clean with the rag and then held it aloft. He pulled back the breech and saw the bullet enter the chamber. “You were right, daddy,” he said, as a tear rolled down his left cheek, “You were right.”

Sawyer then placed the barrel to his forehead and squeezed the trigger.