The woman across from me is plain. I catch my gaze when it lingers too long on her mouth and I realize that every word she says is leaving me as soon as it enters. It's a bitch. Not her-this job.
I have to protect her from a bunch of cliché-mean lookin' guys in suits and sunshades who don't know when enough is enough. I left one for dead in an alleyway a few blocks down, alive enough to pass on my message, though. He's dumped among some trash. It's where he belongs.
Her eyes are green and her hair is blonde. I've never liked that color combination. She's pretty though, but my opinion on her looks doesn't matter because she's just the job.
We leave the café ten minutes after we enter, after I've made sure suspicious' Crown Victorias are no longer parked across the street or around the corner. She stays close to me, as I've instructed, but it's not her body I want to feel pressed up against my arm…
I clasp her hand firmly in mine and lead her across the street, through the bustling crowd and in-between the flow of traffic. The drop-off is a tall glass building with blue windows and a triangular roof. I can see it up ahead.
It seems like the sunshade gang get the message because they stop following us one block down. Maybe they've heard the rumor about me and don't want to take a chance. Whatever the reason, their nuisance is no longer and I complete my job when she and I walk through the revolving doors and into the marble-floor lobby. I lead her forward and step back, but she doesn't release my hand. Those big green eyes look up at me and she returns to my space, standing on her toes to place a gratuitous kiss on my cheek. I don't stop her, but I don't respond either. It's not her lips I want to feel on my skin…
When she is greeted by her lover's arms at the million-dollar staircase, I turn and leave. An inconspicuous little lady with a grey bun pinned on the top of her head bows as I exit and hands me a slip of paper. It's a check. I prefer cash, but checks are fine. Money is money and I never leave a trail.
Soon enough I reach the Manor where I'm staying and as I ascend to the second-floor hallway, I see a flash of brown hair pass my room, but it disappears before I can discern a face. My gut churns. I'm hungry, but not for food.
I come to the door of my room, insert the key, and then turn it. The air is stifling because there's only enough necessary for one person. The emptiness mocks me.
I should check on her. The brown-haired girl a few doors down. I want to see her but I don't want the attachment. One thing will lead to another and I'll be stuck. Locked in an emotion that's mine but I don't even want it. Attachments are messy, especially in our line of work. And I know she has a line of work.
I won't sleep tonight. My mind is lost in another dimension, trapped between reality and the dream world. I can't say that I hate it.
