AN: My first story up on this site! I'm just sort of testing the waters with this one, so reviews are GREATLY appreciated ^.^. Thank you!
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Close, But No Cigar
The corners of the building were the only thing left standing, but they were already starting to crumble. Wisps of smoke were still rising from the black square imprinted on the ground in between two buildings – one a law firm and the other a variety store. Those two buildings were virtually untouched; only a thin layer of soot covered the sides that were facing the now extinguished fire. This was enough evidence for Vincent to deduce that the fire was premeditated and not an accident. And he knew the people who had the motive to do such a thing.
He looked away from the remains – great works of literature reduced to a bunch of ash in a matter of minutes. Not only was his merchandise and store burnt to the ground, but so were his hopes and dreams. He no longer had any way to express and spread his love of books to the world.
But, it wouldn’t be long before he would get it all back.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at the caller ID before answering.
“Clara.”
“Vince!” Clara squeaked, “I heard what happened on the news. I’m so sorry, that’s terrible what happened. Oh, everything in your store. What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know…” Vince glanced at the firefighters and police still in the area, “I need to think about it.”
“Will the insurance cover it all? I mean, there’s nothing left. You’d have to rebuild the whole thing.”
“I don’t think it will. There’s no point in rebuilding the store if I don’t have any books to sell.”
“Well, then, what are you going to do? You need a job.”
Vince looked down the street in the direction of his nemesis.
“I’ve got a job.”
“Wha - ?”
Vince hung up and murmured under his breath, “And that job is to get revenge.”
Vince returned to his apartment, calm and relaxed as a snake basking in the sun. He stood in front of his mirror for a moment, smoothing his dark wavy hair and noticing his apathetic expression. His eyes especially were just two dots of plain unemotional brown. He straightened out his suit then moved away from his haunting stare. He hummed while he walked about his home. He eventually found what he was looking for, donned a large coat, stuck a hat on his head and took the stairs to the first floor.
As he passed the receptionist he tipped his hat to her and said, “Lovely day for a walk, isn’t it?” and continued out the door, stepping out underneath grey clouds and into the chilling air. The receptionist stared blankly at his retreating back.
He stood across the road from another bookstore similar to his, but less popular. He took out a cigar and lit it, never taking his eyes off the bookstore. It was a tiny thing squished in between two large buildings. It's name was scrawled in swirling letters above the door: Signature. It looked rather forlorn; the paint was peeling and the sign was eroding.
“Signature,” he hissed, “I’ll give you a signature. Carve it into your fucking chest you backstabbing bastard.”
Someone exited the bookstore. He puffed his cigar and then made his way towards it. A bell tinkled as he entered. The only employee there was a young girl. She smiled as he approached her.
“Hi, can I help you?”
Vince took the cigar out of his mouth and asked, “Is Jeff here?”
“Jeff? Yup, he’s just in the back. I’ll go get–,”
“I’m a friend of his. Can you just take me to where he is?”
“Uh, sure,” the girl said hesitantly, “I’ll let him know you’re here first.”
“Just take me to him back there, he’s expecting me.”
“Oh, um, okay. Come around the counter.”
Vince walked around the counter while the girl waited in the doorway leading to the back of the store. She pointed down the hallway and bent her finger.
“He should be around that corner in the last room on the left.”
“Can you show me?”
“Uh, I have to watch the store.”
“You either show me,” Vince whispered, “or I kill you.”
Vince slipped his hand into an inside pocket of his coat and puffed his cigar with the other hand. The girl’s face paled. Vince cocked his head towards the hallway. She walked stiffly but quickly to the room she had indicated earlier. Vince grabbed the girl’s arm when they reached the door and let himself in.
“Don’t you people know how to knock?” Jeff turned around, slamming a wad of papers onto his desk. He froze.
“Hello, Jeff. Long time, no see.” Vince said coolly, taking the cigar out of his mouth to speak.
“Vince. Wh – what are you doing–?”
Vince shut the door behind him. Jeff clenched his fists. His light green eyes, usually soft, were hard and dark. His brown hair stuck up in the air like some mad scientist. He looked unkempt, and as if he hadn’t slept in days.
“I’m visiting. Your employee was so kind as to escort me to your room.”
“What are you doing? Let go of her.”
“Okay.”
Vincent released the girl’s arm, pulled out a gun, pointed it at her head and pulled the trigger. Jeff tensed and stared at the blood crawling across the floor. With a steady hand, Vince aimed the gun at Jeff and put the cigar back into his mouth.
“Holy – Vince. What’re you – What–.”
“I know you did it.” Pieces of ash fell off the end of the cigar as Vince spoke.
“That little stunt back there,” Vince continued, “with my store.”
“What? What stunt?” Jeff’s voice trembled. He flickered his eyes between the corpse and the gun.
“Don’t act like you don’t know. You’ve been sneaking around an awful lot lately. I’ve had one-of-a-kind books stolen from me in the past few weeks. And where have I found them? In your store.”
“Hey, who I buy my books from may be slightly illegal, but I do not steal my books–.”
“Bullshit.”
Jeff swallowed nervously as Vince took another puff of his cigar.
“You stole them,” Vince accused, “you took all the expensive books out of my store so that when you tore down my shop, you would have all the good stuff. You’ve got that guilty fire in your eyes, I can see it.”
“I didn’t burn down your store! Come on Vince, we’re friends. This is ridiculous.”
“I thought you didn’t know what happened to my store?”
Jeff shrank back and stuttered. He looked frantically between the gun and Vince’s face.
“Heh,” Vince smirked, “that’s all the proof that I need.”
BANG.
Jeff lay on the floor with a pool of blood coalescing around him. Vince carefully made his way around the blood to Jeff’s desk. He arranged a pile of papers and, taking one last puff of his cigar, placed the cigar on top of the papers.
As he walked by Jeff’s corpse on his way out he murmured, “Burn in Hell.”
The bell tinkled as he exited the store. Before letting the door close shut, he flipped the open sign to closed and then headed down the street, lighting up another cigar.
THE END
Thank you for reading!
you got the bad-ass of Vince down perfectly! it was an awesome situation, especially since it was about books 
. I thouroughly enjoyed it, and loved the, "and that job is revenge." 
