Double Crossed

Two

Deep within a dark, legally condemned warehouse, shouts and the smell of beer could be detected. The walls pulsed with the deep throb of bass-filled music.

"Come on, Karla, celebrate with us! It was a job well done."

Karla jerked her arm away from her drunk co-worker. "Shoo! No, I don't want to celebrate."

Blake, her co-worker, cocked his head to the side. "What'd you say?"

"I DON'T WANT TO CELEBRATE!" Karla shouted to be heard over the music. Fortunately, it worked. For everyone.

The music stopped, and all heads turned to stare at her. One face stuck out the most--that of Marcus Gray, her boss.

He slowly staggered towards her. "Tell me, Karla," he said, his voice low and menacing. "Why would you not want to rejoice with us? Is something bothering you?"

He stuck his face up near hers, scrutinizing her eyes for answers.

Karla backed away slowly. She couldn't let the man know. He could never find out.

"The job...is not yet complete," She stated regally, composing herself. "Step one is, yes, but a lot can go wrong between step one and step success."

Gray's face inched closer, eyes narrowing, breath stinking of alcohol.

Karla held her breath. What would he see? Would he detect her fear, her lies?

After what seemed like an eternity, Gray pulled back in satisfaction. "She's right. But step one was a very important one, so I say that it's success deserves a party!"

Within seconds the music was back on, the drinks were being passed out, and the men were passing out.

Noticing everyone's distracted state, Karla slipped outside. She walked around the corner of the building and sat on a bale of hay.

Tears welled up in her eyes before sliding down her face. She'd kept the act up since the time at the park, but she could only hold a straight face for so long before...before this.

"What am I doing?" She moaned into her hands. "I can't go through with this; I can't do this to Arthur. But what else can I do?"

Her sobs grew deeper and more painful with every second. She had to either risk the lives of her siblings, or give up the man she loves. How could one make such a decision?

Moments passed. Who knows, maybe they were hours. Karla's tears, always silent, finally slowed down. She laid back on the hay, weary.

Her gaze was drawn to the stars, barely visible through the ever-thickening watery haze below them.

"What do I do?" She whispered, hoarse from her silent sobs. "If there's anyone up there, anyone listening, please help me."

Karla had never felt so torn, so uncertain, so alone.

As she watched the sky, a small hole broke through the clouds. One star, brighter than the rest, peered down at her. It seemed to wink at her.

Somehow, watching it twinkle and shine brought comfort to Karla.

As her mind cleared, an idea rolled in to push out the fog.

She had it.

Yes, yes! She had it! The perfect way to keep things rolling smoothly on both ends. Now if only she had a strong enough signal...

*~*~*

Arthur sat on his makeshift bed. He'd been sitting there for a few hours already, just replaying their meeting, seeing her face.

"She sure has matured a lot," he mused. Everything about her looked so different, yet just the same.

He was in this state of enraptured reflection when his phone rang for the second time since he'd gotten it.

"Ben, say nothing, just listen."

Arthur was bewildered. It sounded like Karla, but--oh! Ben was the name of his character in the first play he and Karla performed in together. Whatever reason she was calling for, it must've been important.

"Ben, something's come up. I need you to meet me somewhere with memories. You know the place. I can't say over the phone; it's too dangerous. Just meet me. Please."

The line went silent.

Arthur beamed. Karla was always one to liven things up, make things more dramatic. She made every little meeting feel like a secret agent handoff. It was hard to do things beyond speak in code, but it was adventurous.

A place with memories...Ben...

A lightbulb went off. The theatre. The very place Laureen met Ben. The place Arthur first asked Karla out. Memories.

Arthur grinned.

"Oh yeah," he peered at an imaginary camera, "it's all coming together."