title: to be determined...

                PROLOGUE

A man once told me if life isn’t dangerous then I wasn’t living.  He was right.  I may have only been seventeen and a little creeped out by the scruffy old man that sat next to me on the bus that day but, he was right.  The instant he got off the bus on that rainy Monday morning, everything in my life changed.  Yes, the bus may have been blown up by a small bomb that day.  Considering that built up my confidence to learn how to drive, I thank the terrorist who bombed that bus.  For some reason the words that man said repeated itself all day and all night for several months.  Eventually I bought a gun.  Nothing big, a small pistol is all.  I figure that was pretty dangerous right?  Good thing I bought the gun too because after having it a few days I was forced to defend myself with it against a mugger.  At least, that was my excuse.  To be honest, I enjoyed shooting him.  I felt like I made a difference in the world, one less guy to rape or mug an innocent girl.  And that is what started my career.  Yes, I kill people for a living.  I’m a god guy though.  I only kill the guys who want either me dead or somebody wants them dead, for whatever reason.  I don’t ask questions.  I assume there is a good reason to want someone murdered and I leave it at that.

 

Six Years Later

                “What can I get for you today, ma’am?” the ponytailed starbucks girl asked a little too uppity for morning in my opinion.

                “Yeah,” I replied, a little sluggish. “Hot chocolate.”

                “Okay.  What size?”

                “The biggest you have.”

                “$5.75 ma’am.”  I reach in my purse for my wallet and pay her in cash.  Upside for her, she’s going to die another day.  Bad news, she secretly hates her job.  How can I tell? The way she smiles. It’s fake.

                “Best service I’ve ever had.”  I complimented the girl as she gave me the hot chocolate.  Ah, there it is, a genuine smile.  Funny how a smile can turn a person’s morning into a good day.  I turn and head out the door towards the icy chill outside leaving the ding of the Starbucks bell behind, heading toward my favorite bookstore, Good Reads.

                “Hey there, Danger,” a deep, rough voice said.  I didn’t even have to turn my head to know who that was.

                “I ever tell you, you have a great way of ruining a perfectly good morning, Scruff?”  The question was rhetorical of course, but he always felt the need to answer anyway.

                “Nope. Don’t think ya have.”  He chuckled.

                “Well, now you know,” I replied with a smile.  “Now get on with it.  What do you want.”

                “Got a job for ya.”

                “Ever hear of a day off?”

                “Nah,” he shook his head, “too boring.”  At that moment we walk into Good Reads, empty, as always.  Well, except the bookkeeper, who is a handsome man around my age with a boring life with no danger involved.  Yet, he seems to be truly content with the bookstore his family has owned for several decades.  Sometimes I wonder though.  Instead of perusing through books like I planned, Scruff and I went straight to the back to sit at an isolated table to talk without unwanted ears.

                “Okay, shoot,” I exasperated as we sat down.

                “First, look how you’ve matured,” Scruff smiled, looking me up and down. “You don’t look so tiny and frail and…bored since that day on the bus.  I told ‘em you’d be great ya know, but they didn’t believe me.  Nooo they said.  She’s scared of everything and she’s soo tiny.”  I giggled as he mimicked his boss’s voice. “Ah,” he paused considering for a moment the person he helped me become, “all it took was blowing up a bus.”  He smiled, showing every one of his crooked, yellow, cavity infested teeth. “you’re my pride and joy, Amelia.”

                “Well, your pride and joy would like to enjoy a good book before lunch, Scruff, and she’s a freelancer, so, what do you and The Business boys want?”

                “Always to the chase, eh, Danger.”  Now serious he leans forward, elbows and hands on the table getting as close as he can and whispering as quietly as possible.  “Inside man gone bad.”

                “So why doesn’t The Business take care of him?”  I asked.  They always take out their own guys, that way nobody on the outside ever knows. 

                “He’s one of the top notch guys.  A head honcho you might say.”

                “So?”  I ask.  Scruff leans back in his chair to get comfortable before he answers.

                “Nobody knows. ‘Cept me and the guys above who told me ‘bout it.’

                “So? Get somebody to get on it.  Wait. Why can’t you do it?”

                “Can’t.  On desk duty.”  He stated.

                “What did you do this time?” probably blew up another bus.

                “Now,” he put up his hands as if to surrender, which is something he doesn’t do, “I know what you’re thinkin’. And it wasn’t no bus.” He pauses.  I stare into his eyes, demanding him to spill the beans.

                “It was a yacht…With a bunch of important people on it apparently.  Nobody died, so I don’t understand what the big deal is.  So they got their fancy suits wet?  Who cares!”

                “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” I busted up, leaned back and took a breather, then set my hot chocolate down in hopes of not spilling it everywhere. “You did what!? Hahahahahahaha!”

                “It’s not that funny, young lady.” He said offensively.

                “You have got to stop that habit of yours.  One of these days you’re going to hurt somebody important.”  I paused to think a moment. “Like the President.”  As soon as I said it, Scruff’s face changed from a lighthearted smirk to a grave expression.

                “Speakin’ of which…” he let the silence finish his sentence.

                “That’s who went bad. That’s why The Business isn’t taking care of it.”  I shook my head in disbelief. “You said one of the top notch guys, Scruff, not the top notch guy.”

                “That’s why they came to me.  They told me to get the best guy out there.  I told ‘em Danger could get it done.”

                “And they didn’t argue?”  The Business guys hate me for refusing their offer when Scruff first found me.  They only let the best in The Business and if the best refuses they die, hints the people trying to kill me.  I don’t hold anything against them. I mean, The Business is secret stuff. They don’t want anybody knowing anything about them.  Just like anybody else who kills for a living.  Those kids are only doing their job but, they are as annoying as bees buzzing around.

                “Nope.  Sure didn’t.” he stated.  “Don’t get me wrong though, they didn’t like the idea but, they know you’re the one who could get it done.”  He shrugged, waiting for my answer.

                “If I do this, their guys can’t be on my back trying to kill me ever turn I make-“

                “Done.” Scruff interrupted.

                “I’m not done Scruff, there’s more.”

                He looked down, slightly ashamed of himself.  He knows better than to interrupt a lady.  To him, it’s the worst thing a man can do.

                “Sorry,” he cleared his throat, “continue, please.”

                “Those guys are forever off my back when it’s all done and over with.  Forever, Scruff.”  I pause to make sure I got the point across.

                “Done.” He states, “You know I’ve been trying to get them to stop for years.”

                “I know and I appreciate it, but it better be guaranteed this time. I’m serious I will kill each and every one of them who come after me and who gave the order, both.  No more boys just getting a little injury and crying back to their mommy saying that I hurt them.  Got it?”

                “Got it.  Anything else?”

                “Yeah.  If I need you, they let you out from behind the desk they have you at.”  He nodded with the biggest smile on his face I’ve ever seen him wear.  “And I better be able to retire with this if I want to, understand?”

                “No worries there.  They told me to tell you they are gonna pay you big bucks for life after it’s all said and done.”

                “Yeah.  Good.  They better, considering what I’m about to do.”  I leaned back in my chair letting it all sink in as Scruff realizes what I just said.

                “You mean you’re gonna do it?” He smiled.  Everybody seems to be having a good morning. So much for my good book I wanted to read.

                I nodded.  A little disappointed that he doubted I would.

                “I knew it, Amelia.  Ha!  I finally get to work with my girl! Oh yeah,” he sighed, relieved that the business part is over with. “So, what d’you got in mind?”

                “I have no idea.  But first, let’s get some lunch.”

                “What about that book you wanted?” he asked as I got up out of my chair and headed towards the front exit.

                “Not in the mood to read now, considering the good news I got.”

                “Good? What do you mean by that?” Scruff asked with a quizzical look.

                “I’m getting paid to kill the one man that I’ve been thinking about shooting since he took office.”

                “Oh yeah? Really? Hmmm…” Scruff pondered, which is always bad news. “Didn’t know you had a problem with the guy.”

                “And I get to eat lunch with a man I haven’t seen in three years.  We need to catch up.”  I turned to look at the man distastefully. “But first, you’re going to have to remove those fake teeth and take a shower because you are embarrassing me. Oh-and change your clothes.  You look like a hobo.”

                “Well that’s a little rude, don’t ya think, Danger.”

                “No, Scruff.  I don’t think that’s rude.” I paused as we headed out the door, waving goodbye to the content bookkeeper. “That’s honesty.  Sometimes it hurts but, it must be said.”

                “Yeah, yeah.  Ever think about tellin’ a white lie every now and again?”

                “Never.” I giggled.  It’s ironic how honest I am with such a dishonest job.

                “Okay Scruff,” I pause trying to remember which direction he lives. Noticing my struggle to decide, he leads the way.

                “This way,” he chuckles, waving his hand to the left. “I moved in to a new apartment right down the street.”

 

                “Nice place.”  I stated in awe as I looked up at the tiled ceiling, down the beautiful white walls with the best photos framed all the way down his hallway into the living room with all the pictures of him and I on our so-called vacations we never actually took.  Yes, we went to Rome and Venice and Tokyo and London and Mexico and France but, it was by chance we were both there.

                It’s good to have photos of people that look as if they are close in case somebody who shouldn’t be curious of us, is.  I have the same photos of us at my place.  We decided to pose as a couple if somebody starts asking questions.  It works too.  I had to use the lie a couple of years ago when The Business decided one of their busy bees “witnessed” something suspicious pertaining to me.

                “I thought you said you like to lay low, Jack.” I questioned.

                Jack is Scruff’s real name. I’ve called him Scruff since he first introduced himself to me when I killed a mugger.  He had been keeping tabs on me since the bus incident.  I shot somebody for the first time and he showed up out of the shadows to see how shaken up I was.  When he saw me smiling the first thing he said was “good job, Amelia”.  That should have been my first clue as to how psycho he is, not in a bad way, in an interesting way. Interesting as in the person to hang out with who is never boring.  The second was what he looked like.  Perfect teeth, perfect hair, perfect suit, perfect voice.  It’s surprising I even recognized him as the scruffy old guy that looked like a hobo with nasty teeth.  I think it was his eyes that gave him away though.  His eyes had the same genuine humor as the guy from the bus.  After I noticed his eyes and heard his voice I knew he was the same guy from the bus the year before.

               

                “You’re the scruffy old guy that sat next to me on that bus last year.” I said, flabbergasted.

                He laughed. “Yes, I am,” he stepped forward. “You are the first person to ever realize him and I are one and the same. Impressive.”

                I smiled and blushed at the compliment. Realizing this, I quickly looked down.  I then realized he witnessed me shoot a man and started to panic.

                “I-I-I-I uhm.” I stuttered, trying to find some excuse for what I did.

                “It’s okay, Amelia.  Don’t worry.  I’ll get some people here to clean it up.” He calmly stated.

                I was confused, worried, and anxious all at the same time but, he somehow calmed me down.  He answered every question I had and then some.  Even told me his story and when he started.  Which was only a few years before that. He was seventeen when he started, same as me.

               

                Now, here we are, six years after the night of my first shot, at his new apartment, about to eat lunch like a couple of normal, everyday people.

                Step step step.  I turn away from the memory and see Jack walking towards me with wet hair and a towel wrapped around his waist.

                “Ah,” I say surprised to see him so quickly. “See?” I quickly composed myself, “much better without the hobo look.”

                “What?” he shrugs, teasing, as he takes two more steps closer. “You don’t like my hobo look?”

                I smile, shaking my head. “No. Not in particular.”

                “Oh.” He said a little sad. “I do.”

                “You do?” I challenged.

                “Yep,” Jack stated, matter-of-factly, “it’s my favorite.”

                “It is?” I continue the challenge, yet confused as to why he would ever want to dress up as a hobo.

                “Yep,” he smiles, taking another step or two closer.

                “And why is that, Hobo-man?” I asked, honestly curious now.

                “Because…” he paused, takes another step closer, now closing the gap between us, “that is what I wore when I met you.”  He told me with a tone that implied I should’ve known the answer already.  I flushed and looked down in embarrassment with my hand on his chiseled chest I shoved him away slightly.

                “Go get dressed, Scruff.  I’m hungry.” I smile and head toward the couch where I sit, leaving him shocked by my response.  Normally, he can easily seduce a girl.

                “What?” He teases, “At this restaurant is there a policy that states I need to wear a shirt?”

                “Yes, as a matter of fact, there is.  You won’t get service without pants and shoes either.”  I smiled. “So get dressed.”

                “Yes, ma’am,” he smiles and heads back down the hall to his room.

                “And you’re buying!” I holler after him.

                His chuckling was all I heard for a reply.

 

Krystal’s Little Kafe

“Hello,” a young voice greeted us before we were barely in the door. “How many today?”

                “Two,” Jack stated holding up his index and middle fingers as a peace sign in case the hostess didn’t hear him, I presume.  Not that there was a reason for him to use the action since every woman he comes in contact with can’t help but listen to every word and watch his every move.

                “Okay,” the young lady says a little sad to see me with him, “follow me.”

                So, we follow.  She leads us to a table for two near the back of the little café.  Thank goodness.   The quieter the better, and this place was buzzing.  Tables overflowing with friends and family discussing nothing of importance and laughing at the joke their uncle has told at the least a hundred times.

                “Thank you for coming to Krystal’s Little Kafe today,” the hostess smiled as she turned her gaze to Jack, “your server will be right with you.”  Before she leaves us to greet a small family of three she sets down our menus for us to peruse.

                “So Amelia,” Jack starts, without even picking up his menu, “how’s the business going?”

                “Better than yours it seems,” I replied, half in the conversation half listening to my stomach.

                “It seems?” he asks.

                “Yeah,” I set the menu down to look him in the eye with my answer, “You’re bored.  You only blow things up when you’re bored.”

                “Huh,” he picks his menu up, “didn’t realize you knew so much about me.” He will never admit it but, he’s happy I know him well enough to know he’s bored.

                “I know a whole lot more than that, my friend,” I said smugly. “You couldn’t live one day without me.”

                “What?!” He said surprised, “I haven’t seen you for three years.”

                “That may be Jack,” I continue, “but you don’t go a day without talking to me.”

                He lets that sink in as he thinks of a rebuttal. “Touche.” Couldn’t think of one apparently.

                “Not that I mind,” I said smiling.

                “Good,” he states, “Now back to my question.”

                “I answered you’re question.”

                “How’s business?”

                “Oh,” I think back, trying to remember if I answered or not. “Not too shabby-“  I stop short, recognizing a waitress when I see one.

                “Hey there,” she smiles, “I’m Barb, your waitress.  What would you like to drink?” she looks at Jack, expectantly.  He waits for me to answer before he does.  I take the hint.

                “I’ll have a sweet tea, please,” I say.

                “I think sweet tea sounds great,” he says smiling.

                “Two sweet teas coming right up,” Barb confirms before getting our drinks and stalks off.

                “I’m thinking a burger and fries sounds great,” Jack states almost licking his lips.

                “You know what I think sounds fantastic?” I giggle, “Chicken tenders and fruit.”

                “Interesting combination.” Jack ponders momentarily, “Tell me, why chicken tenders?” he smiles.

                “Why?” I ask. “Jack, nobody needs a reason to eat chicken tenders,” I pause, “but, if you must know… It’s because my stomach says so,” and that’s what got him laughing hysterically. “I’m serious, Jack.”  I whispered seriously. “I saw chicken tenders on the menu and my stomach growled and my mouth watered.”

                Of course, that is the moment when Barb showed back up with our teas.

                “There ya go, sir.” She began, looking a little confused by his hysteria. “For you, ma’am,” I may have been hearing things but I noted a condescending tone with the last word.

                “Thanks,” I said, still embarrassed by my comrade.

                “You ready to order?”

                “Yes. I want chicken tenders with fruit as my side.” I answered and nodded toward Jack. “He wants a burger and fries.”

                “Okay,” she takes our menus, “be back in a jiffy.”

                “Okay, be back in a jiffy,” I mimicked when I was sure she was out of earshot.

                “Hold on now,” Jack stated when he got his breath back. “What is the problem you have with her?”

                “Nothing,” I stated offensively, with that, he let the subject go.

                “Got any plans tonight?” he smoothly asks.

                “Yes. I do,” I answer with a smile. “You can come along to enjoy the show if you like.”

                “What show?”

                “Why don’t you join me to find out?” I rebuttal.

                “Okay,” he pauses as Barb sets down our food, “but, at least give me a hint.”

                “All you need to know,” he looks at me with a curious gaze, “is I am going to look good.”

                “You have a job tonight, don’t you.” Jack states with anger in his tone.

                “How did you guess?!” I exclaim, surprised, “with the hint I gave you. How did you guess?”

                “I thought you said today was your day off?” he inquired, ignoring my question altogether and still with an angry tone to his voice.

                “It is.” I answered. “They don’t want anything done until after midnight.  Technically, that is tomorrow.”

                We take a few bites of our food, the crunching of my fried tenders overwhelming any sense of hearing.

                “Why do you sound angry about it anyway?” I continue, “and how did you guess so quickly?”

                “I know you, Amelia, that’s how, “he paused collecting himself. “I’m not angry… Just jealous I guess.  Here you are having all kinds of fun while I’m stuck behind a desk.”

                “Maybe you should freelance.” I suggest. “No desk, no boss, no free time to blow things up.”

                “I’ll think about it,” he smiles. “Anyway, I would love accompanying you on your endeavor tonight.”

                “Good, because I would hate to find somebody else to be my date,” I teased

                For the rest of lunch Jack and I caught up on the things we’ve been up to for the past three years.  Relationships we’ve had, the places we’ve been, and the most important person we’ve killed, thus far.  After lunch we continued talking about everything and nothing as we walked around the city.  Half of me was window shopping.  Eyeing dresses and shoes along with expensive jewelry I would never buy myself.  Not because I can’t afford it but, because I think it’s an outrageous amount of money I would be giving a company for such a small parcel that may or may not be worn twice in one year.

                Without even realizing it, we ended up at the park listening to a quartet playing songs by Frank Sinatra.  There were no lyrics, just music, until Jack asked them to play My Funny Valentine, his favorite by Sinatra, and started singing it.  As he sang, people stopped to listen and some even danced.  Amazed by how he makes people feel so comfortable, I started swaying back and forth, grinning from ear to ear.  Without any warning the song was over.  A new one started and suddenly, Jack was twirling me into his arms, forcing me to step in time with him.  By the time we were done dancing, the band was out of songs for the day and the sun was setting, making the icy chill outside almost unbearable.

                “You’re cold.” He stated.

                “Maybe a little chilly,” I said, “it is getting close to winter and I happen to live in Windy City.” Jack chuckled at my logic. Before I knew it his blazer was over draped over my shoulders for warmth, the smell was intoxicating.

                “You are not only a ‘little chilly’. You are shivering ‘Melia.” I was too stunned to respond but, it didn’t matter anyway because he was already calling a cab to take me back home.

               

                Home

                “Ah,” I exasperated. “Feels good to be home.”

                “You’re only saying that because of the mold infested cab smelling of booze was your ride home.” Jack stated.

                “That may be, Jack,” I teased as I made sure he closed the door of my apartment behind him, “but, there is no place like home.”

                Once my door is closed I do my daily walk-through apartment habit. Just to make sure everything is still the same. Not saying I hate change but, I do like knowing if someone other than me was in my apartment.  First, the kitchen, which is the first thing a person sees upon entering. I set my purse on the manmade island counter along with my keys. Next, the living room where my radio is held by a cord connected to my mp3 player stored with more music than any one person should ever have, legally that is. I turn the power on to hear John Mayer coming out of the speakers. Got to love shuffle. I start dancing as I go down my hallway where the photos of Jack and I hang on the blood red wall opposite of the brown wall with a quote written on it that reads “We labeled something indescribable with four simple letters: L-O-V-E”. Once at the end of the hallway I entered my room. My bed was still made, closet closed, and curtains open to let the light in. Perfect.

                “Ah!” I yelped. “Jack, I didn’t realize you were right behind me.”

                “Yep,” he smiled. “What’s next?”

                “Next, I get ready for my night,” I pause to think for a moment. “While you either cook spaghetti or get Chinese take-out.”

                “Those are very specific tasks,” Jack teased.

                “Don’t mock me. Both sound fantastic and I’m starved.”

                “Okay then,” he turned and headed down the hallway with his phone at his ear. “Yes… Delivery… Orange chicken with lo mein and general tsao’s with fried rice…Egg rolls please.”

                “Or call the restaurant down the street and wait bored while I get ready. That works too.” I said after he ended the call.

                “I won’t be bored,” he chuckled. “I can entertain myself with a book or something.”

                “Fine. Suit yourself.” I walked back into my room for the undergarments I’ll be wearing after my shower, “I’m still going to take my sweet time though.”

                “I don’t mind waiting for you,” he chuckled.

 

                Later…

                “Food’s here!” Jack yelled from the doorway.

                “YES!” I exclaimed, jumping down the hallway in excitement.

                “Whoa. Wait.” Jack paused, looked me up and down in exaggerated head movements, then continued, “I thought you said you were getting ready.”

                “I am getting ready.” I replied.

                “Yeah, but….” He gestured his free hand at me, “What’s with the messy hair, the sweats, and the hoody?”

                “What?” I looked down at myself, “You don’t like it?”

                “No no no no. It isn’t that. It looks…” he stammered.

                “You think I look ugly?” I asked, acting serious.

                “No! I think it’s sexy on you.” He stated nonchalantly, “You’re the one who made it sound like-I mean…Should I change?”

                “Hahahahahahahaha!” I couldn’t keep it in any longer. It was just too funny, he seriously thinks I’m going out in sweats! Ha!

                “….What’s so funny?” he asked seriously, “It’s a legit question.”

                “Jack. I don’t exactly want to get Chinese all over my dress now do I?” I teased, still laughing. It took a moment but, it finally sank in.

                “Oh.” He was speechless.

                “C’mon. Let’s eat.” I encouraged with a smile.

                “Yes ma’am,” He said happily. “Let’s.”

                As we ate, we chatted, filling in the little details of our stories we forgot to mention during lunch.

                “Melia,” Jack stated with a hint of sadness in his voice.

                “Yeah?” I looked up from my plate of orange chicken, “What’s wrong?”

                “Nothing,” he smiled, “I just missed you.” Hearing him say that made my heart skip a beat. That isn’t something Jack usually says to people. He keeps in touch, he makes friends, loses friends. It hasn’t ever made a difference to him who’s in his life. Which is probably why he is exceptional at his job. What’s even crazier is Jack doesn’t lie unnecessarily, ever. When he tells me anything I know I can count on it to be true. If it wasn’t for the pictures I have of us and the fact he calls me every day, I would’ve forgot what he looks like and the sound of his voice.

                “I’m thinking about sticking around for a while,” he paused. I know he saw ‘shock’ written all over my face. “As in keep my apartment here and not move until I’ve figured something out.”

                “Figure what out?” I asked. This was something serious, whatever it was.

                “How long I’m going to be on desk duty,” he shrugged.

                “Are you saying you’re thinking about quitting the field?”

                “No. Definitely not that,” he reassured me. “Could you imagine how antsy I would be. Nope. I doubt I’ll be leaving the field anytime soon. No worries there.”

                “Then I don’t understand,” I paused to think for a moment. “Ah well. Whatever it is isn’t really my business. I wish you the best of luck though,” I then continued to eat the rest of my food. All he did was sit quietly as he waited for me to finish.

 

Jack

                If I thought sweats and a hoodie looked good on her….My mind can’t contemplate a word to describe what she looks like in her dress.  Gorgeous doesn’t do her justice.  It takes everything I have in me to act natural, as if any man would be able to resist grabbing her for a kiss.  Maybe one kiss wouldn’t hurt…No, Jack.  Stop. Be natural. You can handle beautiful women. You’ve been handling them for years.

                “Something wrong?” she asks.

                “What?” I flustered. “Why do you say that?”

                “Because you’re standing there gawking at me.” Great. I was gawking. That’s completely natural…not.

                “Gawking? Naw,” I now have some control over myself as I walk toward her, “admiring your beauty maybe. Gawking though? Never.”

                “Thanks, Jack,” she blushes. Realizing this she looks down at the floor in hopes of me not noticing, which is impossible when it comes to Melia. All I ever seem to do is notice her. I put my hand out for her to take.

                “Where to?” with a smile, she takes my hand.

 

 

 

 

 

                

Author's Note

This is a rough draft and it's not done. Knowing me I will probably be changing the whole thing by the time it's finished. I also have absolutely no idea how to get to where I want this story to end. No worries though, it'll get there eventually.