Seven Days In Paradise

How To Kill Zoe Velasquez?

"How to kill Zoe Velasquez?" I sighed. My mind's already circumnavigated the globe seven times and discovered Antarctica.

I saw the world turning on my sheets.. I tore off my gaze from the ceiling and begged sleep to take me.

Next morning, I went to her flat to find some leads. I got none. I did however, discover the gorgeous woman doesn't have a clue how to keep a home. The place is an OCD patient's nightmare. I'm talking about dirty plates on the sink, maggoty garbage, hairballs clogging the tub drain and ahem... used undies on table... with the moldy bread! Yuck! My dreams are crushed into a million pieces and crushed again to a thousand more. What a big turn off!

On the bright side, at least I won't be attracted to my victim when I kill her. Making my job easier.

With a broken heart, I started to clean. I'm sorry, I can't help it. It's the kindest thing to do for my heroine before she dies. I mean, ex- crush. She's gross.

In a matter of minutes, Zoe's place was spotless. Somehow, the good deed eases the bickering guilt in my system. I was about to close the door when a firm hand gripped my shoulder.

"Thank you Lord! Housekeeping!" said the lady in pajamas. Her heavy lids hanging at half mast, giving her a sleepy, bored look and the rest of her fleshy face sags in the same general pattern. She was staring at me, as if memorizing my face.

My brows shoot up. I caught my tongue. Not certain if I would hide my face or run away. I didn't realize I was holding a mop until I tried to touch my sweaty forehead.

"Malinis na malinis na yan, Ma'am." I nodded, telling the truth.

"Sa susunod agahan niyo ha? Biyernes ako tumawag ngayon lang kayo dumating! Idamay mo na 'tong kabila. Ako na magsasabi kay Zoe."

What?! Did I hear it right? Zoe's place is...

Should I be happy the greasy pad that reeks of last week's garbage wasn't Miss Marvelous' after all? Heck, I used my bare hands on the slimy hairball! Disgusting!

"Ako na po bahala," I smiled politely.

My smile quickly turned into a smirk as soon as the lady went inside her now habitable abode.

Zoe's door wasn't locked. Who in their right mind would leave their house unprotected from the big bad world? (aside from the uncanny woman next door who didn't even bother to ask me for an ID)

The moment my feet stepped into the eccentric living space, I was no longer confused. The ornate ceilings were painted burgundy and navy and displayed cameo carvings. Ivory drapes framed the tall windows that overlooked the cityscape. I walked over to the couch and sat at its edge to marvel at the collection of guitars hanging on the wall. Somehow, the colors that I would have never thought to put together complimented each other.

Zoe certainly had a knack for style. The elegant living space smells of perfume. Everything in her place was beautiful, but my favorite part of the massive room was the area off to the side where two giant bean bag chairs rested in front of a built-in shelf that was crowded with the things I loved most, books.

My hand glided along the line of printed delight before me. I randomly picked one from the dusty shelf and began reading..

Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov.

"Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta."

"Damn Zoe, you read this stuff?" I blushed as my eyes devoured the wicked pages.

I found myself imagining her, reading the sexy piece of literature. I don't need a mirror to tell how flushed my cheeks are. My own shadow is giving me away. I hurriedly closed the book before it starts a flame.