Picture Perfect

Preview: 'Touch of Danger'

~Remi~

"Who's the mark?"

"You're gonna trip about this one, or maybe not? You don't look like the type to follow pro sports."

"I'm not. But who cares? You pay me enough and I'd kill the fucking Pope."

"It's Garrison Reese. My boy Trav says he's holding something over the wife's head that puts his livelihood, and many lives including his own, in jeopardy. You know what to do."

"Give me my bands and we're square. John can't know about this, it's off radar. Understood?"

"Come on now. You know I know better than that."

"Just making sure. Run me my money, I'll you when it's done." I hang up and finish filing my nails to paint them.

I wait by the car of the dark-haired man who has the saddest eyes I've ever seen. He frowns up his face at the sight of me.

"Who are you and why are you waiting by my car?"

"You always leave school this late Dr. Tavern? What kind of extracurriculars do you sponsor?"

"You must have me mistaken if you think you're going to rob me for even one red cent." He speaks in the most threatening tone he can manage.

"Ohhh." I wear an expression that signifies I may be impressed by his chutzpah. "He's feisty." I snicker.

"I'm calling the police."

"Well you can do that. But then you'll have to tell them that you just molested your 16 year old student for what? The 3rd time this week? At least that's what I've witnessed. Your wife knows you're having an affair on her, but do you think she knows with who?" I ask him disgusted by his entire being.

It's people like him who take, and take, and take. And then promise you a sliver of something, just to take again. And then they'll destroy you until you're left with nothing but a shell that barely functions.

"What do you want?" His eyes widen and his stance softens so much, that if the wind were to move just 10 more miles per hour, it would blow him over.

"I need you to deliver a farewell card for me, and then you're going to blow your own brains out and help make this world a better place." I tell him with no remorse.

And that's just it. This is what I do, it's who I am. A cold blooded killer by day, and a teenage girl waiting for some sort of fairytale happening to come upon my loveless life in a coffee shop, at night. Well, not all nights. It depends on the assignment.

"Remi darling. You're up sweets... I can bring it to you, or you can come get it? I don't want you to threaten me for treating you like the queen I think you are." The barista, that I swear is trying to weasel her way into some sort of friendship with me, speaks.

I get up to grab my Spiced White Mocha and Chocolate Brownie, leaving my laptop to rest in my brief absence.

"I'm not a queen I promise you. But thank you as always." I offer a warm smile.

I can tell she's lonely, much like me, a transient in this falsely promising city that hides its misery behind a posh aesthetic. Welcome to San Fran-Fucking-Cisco. A place where the most broken of people will offer you a smile, and maybe their instagram handle.

You know, just so you can like whatever trendy food-joint-visit-selfie they find the need to post every other day.

All I can offer at this moment, is the smile. I make my way back to the huge table I always find pleasure in occupying, to find a tall young man waiting across from where I sat.