Eyes, look your last. Arms, take your last embrace. And, lips, O you the doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss a dateless bargain to engrossing death.
A tear ran down my cheek as Romeo drank the poison, pressing his lips to his supposedly dead love for the last time. I brushed it away quickly with the back of my hand, unable to find the box of tissues that were usually on the couch with me. I leaned my head back and sighed. I must have been the only person in this town who was spending their Friday night watching Romeo and Juliet for the hundredth time.
The familiar end credits rolled across the screen. I yawned and got up to make some tea. I walked to the minuscule kitchen and opened one of the cupboards. I reached for a mint green box filled with raspberry tea, grabbing a cookie from a half-empty packet of Chips Ahoy that had been lying on my countertop for a few weeks.
This had been my Friday ritual for the past two months, ever since I dumped my douchebag boyfriend. He was only interested in one thing, and it wasn't too hard to guess what. We'd been together for all of three days when he first wanted to drop all boundaries. And, like the idiot I was, I did. It went downhill from there. He expected me to think he was the greatest man in the world and hang on his every word, even though he was an unemployed alcoholic who spent the nights he wasn't with me at a poker game or a strip club. As soon as I realized what he was, about a month into the relationship, I dropped him like a hot potato. He was the most controlling, egotistical man I'd ever been with. The last I'd heard, he was in the Caribbean with a naïve blond. I laughed dryly. Who would've thought that he'd have his life back together before me?
I placed my green mug on the coffee table while I sat by a shoebox full of DVDs, deciding which sappy romance I should watch next. I leaned my head against the wall as I searched through movies from Casablanca to The Notebook. I owned way too many movies, and most of them were romances.
I was trying to choose between my favorites, Pride and Prejudice and Gone with the Wind, when my phone beeped from the bedroom. It probably wasn't important, but I wanted to make sure, just in case. I dropped the two movies and walked to the cramped bedroom in my small one-bedroom apartment. My phone was exactly where I'd left it: in my jacket pocket on the door handle. I pulled it out and opened the message.
Iz, the meeting's about to start. Where are you? -Jake
Crap! He was the last person I'd expected to hear from. Jake was one of my "co-workers", if you could call what I do work. My family comes from a long line of mafia heads. My uncle, the oldest of his brothers, was the current leader, and all of his sons, my cousins, were members. It wasn't a family-run business, though. There was a small collection of tight-knit families who worked together. It was like a family business, though. The fathers would pass on their position to their sons, who would pass it on to their sons. I was one of the few female members, but, in my opinion, one of the most valuable. I had the ability to get anything I wanted from anyone.
Well, that is, if I remembered to be there. I quickly made up an excuse.
Sorry! Stuck in traffic. Be there in ten.
I pulled off my deep blue pajamas and scrambled towards my closet, looking for anything I could throw on. I found a casual black dress in the mass of clothes. I grabbed it and put it on. I tried to zip it as I looked for some shoes. I stepped into the first ones I found, a pair of tan three-inch heels. It was put together and comfortable, my favorite style. I didn't have time for makeup, so I grabbed a comb and some mascara and stuffed it into my purse, along with a bright yellow revolver, my favorite accessory. I pulled my trench coat over my shoulder as I grabbed my keys from the tray on the kitchen counter and ran out the door.