Jesse Travis lazily lifted his head in greeting to his best friend and partner entering through the back of BBQ Bob's.
Steve Sloan looked around the very sparsely populated restaurant and then back at his partner. "A little slow?"
Jesse only grunted in answer and turned his half-way focused attention back to his game of Solitare.
Steve chuckled at his friend, who seemed to barely be able to keep his head up. "Pull another double shift at the hospital?"
"Yeah, I think so. I haven't really been keeping track though." His head then dropped until a frantic woman bursting in through the front door caused him to jump a mile.
The girl wildly ran up to the counter, wildly screaming, "Help! He's trying to kill me! Hide me! Please help! Help!"
Steve was immediately out trying to do something for the woman, while motioning for Jesse to wake up and call the police. Steve attempted to calm the woman down when an enraged, yet none-the-less nervous-looking man burst through the door, brandishing a quivering gun.
"Sir, drop the weapon," Steve ordered, shielding the shaking young woman.
"Ya-ya-you stay outta this, mister," the man stammered in a Western drawl. "This is between me and my Lulabel!"
"For the last time, my name is not Lulabel!"
"Okay, sir, I'm the police." Steve slowly retrieved his ID from inside his jacket. "Now put down the weapon.
The man got a maniacal gleam in his eye and cocked his gun, which was still aimed at the woman, who still cowered behind Steve, who decided it would be a good time to get out his own gun.
Jesse came out of the back just in time to see the shooting start and hear the woman cry out in pain. He quickly ran over to her and moved her away from where Steve and the other man seemed as if they were about to have a Western style shoot-out.
"Sir, just lay the weapon down, and everything will be alright." He imitated the shooter's movements by circling, albeit dangerously close to Jesse and his patient.
"Man, I have to do this, you don't understand!" He looked as if he was about to break down right there, not to mention pull the trigger. And when he did, so did Steve. And it didn't stop there.
Jesse, rather oblivious to the fact that he was in the direct line of fire, was busy tending to the shoulder wound of the woman when a bullet slammed into his chest and knocked him to the ground.
Once the berserk man was detained by the cops and the paramedics were coming, Steve realized what had happened as he knelt by the bleeding, unconscious friend. He had shot Jesse. He was sure the bullet had been from his gun. Each of them had only shot once, and the other guy's had barely missed Steve. But when Steve shot, the way the two where circling, Jesse just happened to be right in the way. It had happened so fast, Steve didn't even know how. "Hang on, Jess," he encouraged as tears started forming in his eyes.
Sometime amid the chaos of cops and paramedics, Mark rushed in, followed by some more paramedics. "Steve," Mark shook his son out of his shock, "Steve, what happened?"
Steve starred as the medics hauled Jesse's pale, unconscious body away on a stretcher. "I-I shot him. I shot Jesse." The words came out strained and lacking emotion. "It-it was an accident, I-I didn't see him. I was aiming for the other guy, but I shot -- Jesse."
Mark pulled his shaking son, who was close to tears, into a comforting hug. "He'll be alright," he consoled, although he wasn't even sure himself.
************
Yes, yes, I'm still working on Coming to America, but I just couldn't let this story bouncing around in my head fizzle out! So, whaddaya think?
Steve Sloan looked around the very sparsely populated restaurant and then back at his partner. "A little slow?"
Jesse only grunted in answer and turned his half-way focused attention back to his game of Solitare.
Steve chuckled at his friend, who seemed to barely be able to keep his head up. "Pull another double shift at the hospital?"
"Yeah, I think so. I haven't really been keeping track though." His head then dropped until a frantic woman bursting in through the front door caused him to jump a mile.
The girl wildly ran up to the counter, wildly screaming, "Help! He's trying to kill me! Hide me! Please help! Help!"
Steve was immediately out trying to do something for the woman, while motioning for Jesse to wake up and call the police. Steve attempted to calm the woman down when an enraged, yet none-the-less nervous-looking man burst through the door, brandishing a quivering gun.
"Sir, drop the weapon," Steve ordered, shielding the shaking young woman.
"Ya-ya-you stay outta this, mister," the man stammered in a Western drawl. "This is between me and my Lulabel!"
"For the last time, my name is not Lulabel!"
"Okay, sir, I'm the police." Steve slowly retrieved his ID from inside his jacket. "Now put down the weapon.
The man got a maniacal gleam in his eye and cocked his gun, which was still aimed at the woman, who still cowered behind Steve, who decided it would be a good time to get out his own gun.
Jesse came out of the back just in time to see the shooting start and hear the woman cry out in pain. He quickly ran over to her and moved her away from where Steve and the other man seemed as if they were about to have a Western style shoot-out.
"Sir, just lay the weapon down, and everything will be alright." He imitated the shooter's movements by circling, albeit dangerously close to Jesse and his patient.
"Man, I have to do this, you don't understand!" He looked as if he was about to break down right there, not to mention pull the trigger. And when he did, so did Steve. And it didn't stop there.
Jesse, rather oblivious to the fact that he was in the direct line of fire, was busy tending to the shoulder wound of the woman when a bullet slammed into his chest and knocked him to the ground.
Once the berserk man was detained by the cops and the paramedics were coming, Steve realized what had happened as he knelt by the bleeding, unconscious friend. He had shot Jesse. He was sure the bullet had been from his gun. Each of them had only shot once, and the other guy's had barely missed Steve. But when Steve shot, the way the two where circling, Jesse just happened to be right in the way. It had happened so fast, Steve didn't even know how. "Hang on, Jess," he encouraged as tears started forming in his eyes.
Sometime amid the chaos of cops and paramedics, Mark rushed in, followed by some more paramedics. "Steve," Mark shook his son out of his shock, "Steve, what happened?"
Steve starred as the medics hauled Jesse's pale, unconscious body away on a stretcher. "I-I shot him. I shot Jesse." The words came out strained and lacking emotion. "It-it was an accident, I-I didn't see him. I was aiming for the other guy, but I shot -- Jesse."
Mark pulled his shaking son, who was close to tears, into a comforting hug. "He'll be alright," he consoled, although he wasn't even sure himself.
************
Yes, yes, I'm still working on Coming to America, but I just couldn't let this story bouncing around in my head fizzle out! So, whaddaya think?