Hit List

Part 2

Sighing in defeat, I sat back on my haunches, my resolve draining from my body. Dropping my elbow to my knee, I pointed the knife at the floor, resting my chin on the back of my hand. Who was I kidding? I couldn't do this. Trying to excuse my cowardice, I chalked it up to the nerves of being found in such a compromising position. I closed my eyes, but opened them again a second later upon hearing a low thump. I saw the girl, slumped forward, her head resting on the concrete just an inch forward of her puddle of vomit. She'd knocked herself out. I dropped the knife and leaned forward, grabbed the hair at the back of her head, and dragged her back up into a sitting position. Her legs were splayed out sideways. Without thinking, I re-positioned my foot, placing it in her vomit.

My foot slipped out from beneath me and my body pitched forward, my face coming to rest in the crook of her neck, slamming us both backwards into the wall. My hair dipped into the toilet bowl, and I jerked my head back, spraying myself in the face with dirty water. I instinctively took a deep breath and gagged. The sickening smell of alcohol, day-old deodorant, sweat, pee, and throw-up engulfed me. Swallowing my disgust, I placed both of my hands on the wall behind the girl, pushing myself up and off her. She moaned and twisted her face away from me. Her lips twitched for a few seconds, and a croaking noise escaped from her. Of her own accord, she sat back against the bathroom wall, shaking her head.

"Where - where am I?" she asked.

Her voice was much lower than I would've thought. I wrinkled my nose at the smell of her breath. Subconsciously she placed the palm of one hand over her mouth.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

"The Underground's public bathroom," I said in response to her question.

Her eyes wandered from the toilet beside her, to the ceiling above her, to my face in front of her. She tilted her head to the side, keeping eye-contact with me.

"I remember you," she mused quietly. My breath hitched. Squinting her eyes, she seemed to lose her train of thought, resorting to inspecting the room again. She hiccuped. "Why exac-actly are you in here with me?"

"I had to use the restroom. You'd left the door unlocked and when I opened it, I found you here on the floor," I lied.

She bit her lip, pointing with one hand at the knife on the floor between us. Letting her hand drop, she dipped it in the pool of vomit, but she was too preoccupied to notice.

"What's that for?"

"It- it well, it's for - I mean, I carry it around with me everywhere." I stuttered, looking away from her eyes.

"I don't believe you," she said shortly.

"I didn't know what to expect when I saw you passed out in here." I said quickly, words spewing out of my mouth before I had time to think them through. "I didn't know if anyone had followed you in here and was planning on hurting you. I was trying to protect both you and myself"

She nodded, her eyes cautious. "Okay," she said decidedly. After a moment, she glanced down at her vomit-covered hand, making a face. "This is disgusting."

I stood up, grabbed the knife and jammed the blade into its place, sliding it into my back pocket. The girl lifted her clean hand to me and I took it, hauling her up.

"We'll just leave this here for the janitors to clean," I said, turning to open the door. She pulled away from me, turning on the faucet of the bathroom sink to wash her dirty hand. Remembering my bout with the toilet, I joined her, washing out my hair and using the wetness from my hands to wipe my face. Shaking the water off, she lead me out into the bathroom hallway. I couldn't keep my mind off the real reason I'd stalked her into the restroom. To distract myself, I read graffiti as I passed it. As we advanced further, the pounding sounds and flashing lights of the main room started to slowly melt back into my conscious. I needed to distance myself from her immediately. It would hopefully lessen the chance that she found my motive.

We came to the end of the hallway and stopped, watching the dancers for a minute. The girl grabbed my hand, swinging me around to face her. "Hey, my name's Tan, by the way." She had to shout to be heard over the music.

"That's a pretty name," I answered. I tried to ignore her, twisting around as I searched the room, this time with a different target in mind. When I didn't spot him, I sighed and turned my attention back to Tan.

"Aren't you going to tell me yours?" she pleaded, her eyes playful.

"I've never really been big on opening up to strangers so no, I don't think so," I shouted. I watched as her face fell and almost, almost, regretted it. She quickly recovered, bouncing around on the spot.

"Will you at least dance with me?" she dragged me a couple yards out onto the dance floor. "My friends are just on the other side of the room!"

"Actually, I-um have to meet up with my friend." I dug my feet in, forcing her to stop. "He's kind of my ride home."

"Oh, okay."

"Well, it was nice to meet you, mystery stranger from the Underground bathroom who carries a concealed weapon and doesn't like opening up to strangers," she said. She smiled at me, genuine emotion shining through.

"Same here," I said. I didn't return her smile. I slipped my hand from hers, pushing into the throngs of people crowding around us. I didn't look back, either.

Outside of the club, I stood just outside the ring of light spilling from the front entrance. My back rested against the wall and my eyes followed the cars up and down the road. A nondescript black vehicle pulled up to the curb and the passenger's side window rolled down, a cloud of smoke billowing out. A hand draped across the car's door, a cigarette clutched between two fingers, chipped red fingernail polish and a cheap crystal ring cluing me in. This was a new girl, I thought. There was little light showing me the other occupants of the car so I stepped forward to get a closer look. Across the girls lap was a masculine hand. Attached to it was a very handsome man. My boss.

"Beau?" I asked feigning confidence.

He hummed deeply in response. He lifted his face and some light from the open club door caught his face. He was watching me.

"We need to talk," I said.

Immediately I noticed a change in his demeanor. The hand gripping the girls thigh tightened and she flinched in pain.

"Get in the car," he said, his voice lower than usual. He leaned over the girls lap, opening the door from the inside. He nudged her leg, whispering to her in a low voice before kissing her on the neck, below her ear. She side-stepped me as she stepped up onto the sidewalk, giving me a condescending look before striding off in the direction of the Underground's waiting entrance. As if I needed a reminder that she was better than me. My breathing snagged in my throat and I bent one arm against the car, leaning forward on it to calm myself down. Her pretty face would haunt my dreams.

I slid down into the seat. Barely a second after I had buckled my seat belt, Beau pulled the car away from the side of the road, rejoining the ongoing traffic. I sat in silence, breathing in the smoke saturated air. He refused to look at me, keeping his eyes on the road, his hands on the wheel.

Beau Kingston was pissed.