“It’s okay, I’ll get you one,” he smiled encouragingly.
“I don’t have an ID,” she shook her head.
“Don’t worry about it,” he laughed. “You have the most amazing eyes.”
“Thanks.” She sighed. “They’re my mom’s eyes.” The lies didn’t bother her at all anymore. It was now second nature. Like the blood and the violence.
The waitress arrived, and didn’t look too happy. She stared at Florian pointedly. Florian looked hopeful anyway.
“Hey, can I get two beers,” he asked with a wink.
“I’ll need to see your ID,” the waitress said.
“I don’t,” she answered.
“Doesn’t have it with her,” the target interrupted her. “Just bring the beer.” His voice grew deep.
“I can’t do that,” the waitress shook her head. “I’ll get fired.”
“I’m not going to tell anyone,” the target insisted.
“I can’t,” she shook her head.
“Just bring the damn beer,” he snapped. The waitress glanced at Florian.
“I’ll have another soda,” she insisted. When the waitress brought the drink she brought the bill as well; a not so subtle hint to get lost while she could.
“We should go somewhere and get a beer and get to know each other,” he smiled. His teeth were bright white again his tan skin. Her eyes grew wide. She waited to see if he offered to pick up her check. He didn’t. So she laid a twenty down on the ticket and told the waitress to keep the change. She wanted her to know she appreciated her effort.
“So, want to go back to my place?” He wondered after he took a sip of the beer the waitress brought.
“Sure,” she shrugged. “Where do you live?”
“Salinas,” he said with a nod.
“Oh, I can’t go that far with a stranger,” she said coyly. “My apartment is just down the street.”
“Even better,” he grinned. He really thought he was getting lucky, she thought as she looked at him with dreamy eyes. Stupid guy.
She smiled at him as she nodded and led him outside. “Should we stop to get beer?”
“I have some in my fridge,” she grinned enticingly.
“It’s right around here,” she said as she waved him to follow her into an alley. She had the area planned out already; dark, surrounded by two empty buildings. She led him to the middle, half way between two streets, behind an empty dumpster, and motioned to him.
“Come here,” she said as she put her hands into her sleeves. On her forearms she could feel the metal handles of the knives. She pulled out the blade on her left forearm with her right hand just as he leaned in to kiss her. She could smell the beer on his breath. She slid the blade skillfully between his ribs and punctured his left lung. She didn’t even know if he felt it yet.
“Victor Reyes, you’ve been found guilty of rape, sodomy, assault, and attempted murder,” she whispered. He gasped for breath, and he tried to push her away. But she had her arm wrapped around his shoulder, and held him in closer as she pierced his other lung. “You’ve been sentenced to death.”
He slumped behind the dumpster, and she searched for his wallet and pulled it out of his back pocket. She’d be out of the state before anyone even identified him. She threw it in her messenger bag and walked off slowly. She had no need to run away. It was to look like a random violent attack on a drunk, violent guy.
Until she heard a door open behind her. She yelled over her shoulder, “He passed out. I’m going to go back to the bar to get his friend.” She said it in a New England accent. She searched the sidewalk and saw a group of people coming toward her, which bummed her out because she couldn’t tear off the wig right there.
But she did see a taxi passing by, so she climbed into it quickly. And she was in Seaside before the person in the alley realized he wasn’t passed out. She had the cab driver drop her at a fast food restaurant. She climbed out, thanked him and tipped him well.
She pulled off the wig and removed the contacts, and threw them into her messenger bag. She grabbed a hoodie out of her bag, took off her military jacket and stuffed it inside. Then she waited on the bus. By the time she was back in her hotel room in Salinas she would have been unrecognizable to the waitress who had just waited on her an hour ago.
She turned on the news and saw a picture of the guy. He was dead, the anchor stated, and they were looking for a blonde woman with purple eyes who left a bar with him.
She showered for nearly an hour in warm water, trying to calm her nerves. Then she pulled a beer out of the mini fridge and sipped it slowly. It had been a long time since she came close to getting caught.
She spent Sunday in her hotel room, watching the news. She knew she would be stuck in California for several days. She didn’t want to leave the hotel quickly and cause any suspicion.
So she spent the next day touring Monterey, the aquarium and Fisherman’s Wharf to watch the sea otters. That evening a composite drawing was shown on the news of the girl wanted in connection with the death of Victor Reyes. She laughed as it looked nothing at all like her. “The girl is blonde, with violet or purple eyes, and between eighteen and twenty-one years old. Anyone knowing this girl should call the tip line.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes.
The next day she took a whale watching cruise. She enjoyed the crisp, brisk sea air and the feeling of freedom that accompanied it. She hadn’t felt that since she was a kid. She raised her hands in the air and smiled brightly, like a bird ready to take flight.
That evening Victor Reyes wasn’t even on the news. Apparently they found out what a dirt bag he was. The next day she was on the Secretary’s private plane back to DC.
Chapter Two
She drug herself up the two flights of stairs to her porch. She shared the porch with her next door neighbor, a shy young man whom she rarely saw. He left the apartment before dawn, and came back home after dark. She assumed he was a grad student or worked at the college. She didn’t even know his name.
She was surprised when she pulled out her keys to hear the door beside hers open. “Um, hi,” he said softly. Her eyes turned to his immediately. His voice was clear and rich, though a little hesitant. His eyes were as brown as a forest and round behind black rimmed glasses. His nose was wide. His chin was strong. And his cheek bones were impossibly high.
“Hi,” she said warmly. He took a step back into his apartment, which she guessed mirrored hers as sometimes she heard the toilet flush and thought someone was in her bathroom. She glanced in to see that everything was obsessively neat. She saw a computer desk along the wall that separated their apartments, and several monitors on it. She never heard him, except for the occasional water running, and on the evenings when he had his friends over to play video games. That was every Saturday.
He stared at her as if he’d forgotten what he was going to say. She’d never seen him up close, only from a distance, usually as he was getting into or out of his car. He always hurried into his apartment as if the sun would burn him. She had not realized how tall he was. She was 5’7”, and he had to be at least half a foot taller than her. But he was so thin he looked like he never ate.
She waited with a bright smile on her face. His skin was pale. He didn’t go out much. His hair was a medium brown and hung over his forehead. His eyes were nearly the same color. But they appeared darker set in his pale skin.
“I was… um…” He paused again and licked his lips. His bottom lip was fuller than his top. And for some reason her heart caught when he made the innocent movement. He swallowed and his Adam’s apple moved.
She thought of how different this man was from the self-assured Victor Reyes who thought every woman wanted him. Her weight shifted to lean against the small piece of wall that separated their doors.
Her tension faded as she looked into his eyes. The horrible thing she did in California was forgotten.
“I have a package for you,” he remembered. But he continued to stare.
“Thanks,” she said. Neither of them moved. “Have you eaten?” She had no idea at all where the words came from. It stunned even her to ask. “The only reason I ask is I was just on a plane and I’m starving.”
“Okay.” His face dropped as he said it. “I’ll get your package.” His voice was so pure she wished he would talk more.
“No, I meant,” she said hurriedly before he could shut the door. “Do you want to go with me?”
“I… um…” He raised his right hand to point at his kitchen. “I made soup.”
“Oh,” she was truly disappointed. “I just eat alone all the time.”
“Me too,” he admitted. And they stared at each other silently again. She looked down his thin body to take in his ripped jeans and navy blue t-shirt. His feet were bare and they were so big. His hands were big too.
“Please come eat with me,” she used her airiest voice. “I just had a bad few weeks.” She didn’t want to break down while he watched. She’d never cried about what she had done. If anything she’d always been proud of it. So why did she feel so emotional all of a sudden? Was it the almost getting caught thing? Was it being tired and lonely?
“You were gone for a long time.” He didn’t sound stalkerish. He sounded concerned.
“Yea,” she nodded. “So will you come with me?” Her eyes pleaded with him.
“Sure.” He almost smiled. “I’ll get your package and my shoes, okay?” She gave him a relieved smile and nodded. She quickly put her suitcases inside her front door and closed it back. She didn’t want to leave him waiting outside on her. He handed her the package, and she carried it down to her car. She knew what was inside. Every few months the Secretary sent her a new untraceable phone. Hopefully this would be her last.
She tossed the package in the back and closed her door. She waited as he got in on the passenger side. “You have a very nice car,” he said as he looked around. “The leather is very soft.”
“Yea,” she nodded proudly. The car was her splurge purchase. The Secretary had insisted she live in a nondescript apartment in a tiny subdivision that was one of the farthest places the metro reached. She couldn’t even walk to the metro. She had to drive to it.
But she was relatively safe, and it was quiet. And no one noticed her.
“The car is the only thing I really spend money on,” she admitted.
“You know the manufacturer advertises in England only once a year?” She shook her head. “On April Fool’s Day.”
“Are you kidding? That’s so funny,” she giggled. She drove her car like she did everything else, assertively and aggressively. But she did it with style. She pulled up to a mid priced chain restaurant and climbed out. He unfolded himself out of her small convertible and gently closed the door.
A hostess with short hair and nice eyes found them a corner booth, as it was after lunch and before dinner and there were very few people in the restaurant.
He sat pin straight in the booth and placed his napkin in his lap and arranged his silverware just so. She couldn’t get over how absolutely adorable he was. “So, did you know your European car was made here in the US?”
“I had no idea,” she lied. She did know, but she didn’t want to disappoint him. He seemed to be fascinated with her car. At least he was talking. “So are you a car guy?”
“No, I’m just a trivia guy,” he smiled brightly. “I have a photographic memory. So any facts I learn stay locked in my brain.”
“That’s interesting to know.” She thought about that as she looked at the menu. She was not smart. She barely made it through high school. It didn’t bother her, because she knew her limitations. She knew that working for the Secretary would be the best money she would ever make in her life. And she assumed that after she trained her replacement she would go back to college. But she didn’t know what she wanted to do.
The waitress brought their drinks, and she watched as he studied the menu. He seemed to be engrossed. And then he turned to her thoughtfully and stated, “I have to be home by 6 because I’m an usher at church tonight.”
An unexpected warmth spread from her heart across her chest, then she felt the blood pool on her cheeks. “You go to church on Wednesday evening?” She didn’t even know people did that.
“Wednesday, Sunday, and sometimes Saturday,” he informed her.
“That’s very sweet,” she said as she pulled her phone out of her pocket to check the time. She was reminded of the weariness she felt in California. She wondered what this sweet, handsome, church going man would think of her if he found out she was a killer.
“Wednesday I work until noon, then I go to class from 12:30 to 3. And then I go to church at 6. But we took a test and had an early day. That’s why I was at home this afternoon.” And then his attention returned to the menu. “I’m a vegetarian,” he said as he studied the options. Florian noticed the waitress approaching their table with her notepad.
“I think we’re still deciding,” Florian said. He stared at the vegetarian section. “But would you bring us some potato skins? Without bacon bits?” The waitress wrote on her pad and nodded. Her date smiled at her sensitivity.
“You know, we haven’t even been introduced. I’m…” And the word stopped on her tongue as he gazed up at her with those innocent deer eyes. She did not want to lie to him. She wanted to be something more than her job. She wanted to be herself. She chuckled, embarrassed, and shook her head. “I’m Florian.”
“That is the most beautiful name I’ve ever heard.” His voice was calming, soothing. “I’m Jordan Stewart.”
“That’s a nice name as well.” She hated to admit she was pulled in by his eyes. They were the color of warm coffee with cream and held a sweetness she’d never seen in anyone else.