Kill on Command Read Online Free PDF Page B

Fine.  Now you owe me the drinks.”  Brian floored the cruiser and took off towards the Hilton.
     
    “Hit the lights!”
     
    “No, you idiot,” Brian answered. 
     
    “Hey dummy!  Can you put some music on?”  Sean asked.  Dummy really was a term of endearment.  Years ago in college, Sean had accidently called Brian a “dummy” in front of an entire economics class, during one of Brian’s presentations.  Thirty-five out of thirty-six people in the class burst out laughing.  Number thirty-six was the professor.  He was not amused.  Sean had a special meeting with the Dean regarding decorum.  They had called each other “dummy” ever since.
     
    “This is a police car,” Brian replied looking at Sean in the rearview mirror.
     
    “I guess that is a ‘no’ then.”
     
    “Yeah, dummy, it’s a no,” Brian said, shaking his head.
     
    Within three minutes they were right behind the shuttle and followed it into the hotel lot and under the Hilton’s portico.  Brian pulled right behind the shuttle and got out of the car.  Sean pulled the door handle but it was locked.
     
    “Brian!  Let me out!”  Sean shouted.  Brian ignored him and walked over to the flight attendants.  Sean could not hear them but he could tell they were laughing.   Occasionally Brian would gesture towards the car and they would laugh some more.  After several minutes, Brian returned to the car.
     
    “Wow!  What great girls!  They love my uniform.  I told them I liked theirs,” he chuckled and buckled his seatbelt.
     
    “What did you tell them?”  Sean asked, slightly frustrated.
     
    “I told them you were being arrested for being a douche bag, but I was going to release you into the custody of the dog.  They seemed to buy it.” 
     
    Brian laughed.  “But seriously, I told them I was your ride and you are very important and they should try to make it out tonight.  If this does not get you laid, I don’t know what will.”  Brian pulled out of the Hilton lot and headed towards downtown.  Seconds later, the black Tahoe did the same.
     
    “Fantastic.  You know, your car smells,” Sean said as he leaned back in the seat.  Bailey rested her head on his lap. 
     
    “Shut up.”
     
    Brian flew up Greentree Hill, past the tarnished gold WDVE building and back down the other side.  He shot through the Fort Pitt Tunnel, which opens up to one of the best views in the world.  You can see Heinz Field, PNC Park and all of downtown.  He took I-376 towards Forbes Avenue and the University of Pittsburgh on the way to Shadyside. 
     
    Forbes Avenue took them through Oakland, past the “O” and the Cathedral of Learning, Carnegie Library and Science Center.  Right past the museum is Carnegie Mellon where all the eggheads go.  Sean thought Mark Cuban might have gone there.  He was not one hundred percent on that.  Brian took his first left, drove past egghead dorms, the egghead SAE house and turned right on Fifth Avenue and into Shadyside. 
     
    Home.
     
    Shadyside is an old residential area once home to the city’s steel executives.  It now has blocks of great old homes, tree-lined streets and some of the best restaurants and bars in Pittsburgh.  Brian owns a home on St. James Street, right in the middle of it, one block off of the Walnut Street retail area.
     
    St. James is approximately three quarters of mile long.  It is lined with big trees and average sized sidewalks.  Brian’s house is a four bedroom built in 1926.  Nice porch.  Huge basement.  New kitchen and most importantly, one of the few driveways and garages on the street.  It was a great house.  It even had that good “old house smell.”  Old houses had a smell.  Sometimes good.  Sometimes bad. Brian inherited the house, stock and some cash from his grandparents.  Brian and Sean were roommates all through college and Brian let him live there for next to nothing.  During their freshman year, Brian’s family basically