On The Scale Of

Chapter 3

"What for?"

"It's for our newest client."

"No, I mean our fridge is stocked."

"Danny-"

I cut her off by offering my open hand to her. "Fine. Give me the list."

"Aren't you even a bit excited? He hasn't gone home since Christmas," she mused.

"Oh yeah," I mumbled, unintentionally letting my tone drip with my renown sarcasm. "I'm so excited."

Catherine let out a cry of relief as she found her car keys. "Ri, please be accommodating. He's still your brother." She shot me a knowing look. "I'll send you the list later. Here, take the car. "

She handed me the money and her car keys before she and Nat left the house. The latter lingered a bit, and stuck her tongue out at me. I got back at her with a makeshift gun using my fingers. I point at her and Bang! Her eyes widened dramatically and she ran away, screaming, "Mooooooooom!"

Hours Later...

Lunch time came around just as I was finished cleaning and organizing stuff inside the house. Yeah, it helps me clear my mind. Pretty neat quirk, huh? Honestly, I was getting a teeny tiny bit worried at how much Nat knows. Why am I so damn awful at keeping secrets? It's only a matter of time before God forbid, some desperate detective goes as far as to believe her. Yes, I'm well aware that the police are noticing my presence. And no, I don't want to get caught just because my kid sister couldn't keep her big mouth shut.

I fluffed the pillows on the couch the third time today and found Nat's action figure stuck deep between the couch cushions. Others find dolls from their sisters. I find action figures. Really edgy action figures, too. I pulled out a badass looking Batman figure. Is this a collector's edition? It's got a lot of details. Hmph. Daniel bought this for her, didn't he?

Batman, huh? If only I was half as cool as him maybe I'd...

"Ya know, someone's eventually gonna believe me."

She's right. No matter how careful I could be, I'm bound to be caught. I have to try harder. I haven't thought much about it; if I get caught, what would happen? I mean, naturally, I'd go to prison. But what about Girlie? What would happen to the deal?

My new work phone vibrated in my pocket, breaking my reverie. Speak of the devil.

I clicked answer, and waited for her to speak first.

"Hey, Pup."

"What is it?" I spoke in one breath. Damn, I could never overcome this useless nervousness whenever she's on the other line.

"New assignment."

"So soon?"

There was silence. Panic rose in my throat. Ugh, I'm not about to vomit, am I?

"You're right, Pup. I guess I should do this myself. Been a while," she said in a dismissive tone. She does not sound her usual cheeriness at all.

I was about to apologize, but then decided against it. I'm not supposed to get new assignments immediately the next day.

"Well, ciao. Until next time."

The line went dead and I let lose the breath I wasn't aware of holding. I glanced out the window as a car whizzes pass our street. I moved to close the floral curtains, and leaned against the wallpapered wall beside the window. I feel trapped. Is there really no way out of this?

An Hour Later...

It was a crisp and windy afternoon. I was at the mall parking lot, hauling bags of groceries to the car Catherine lent me. It was a bit difficult to do so because of my thick sweater. But I'll be damned if I go wandering around this shit town without wearing one.

"Cherry-pie!"

Oh hell no.

I recognized the nasally voice right away. I shut the trunk with a sigh. I don't have much of a choice so I turned around and there sprinting towards me was Tom Wellington; a skinny human stuck in the confusing bridge between man and boy, has a few loose screws and a set of teeth similar to that of a chipmunk's. I used to work at his dad's bakery back in highschool. He and I didn't click very well. And by that, I meant he keeps on hitting on me even when I expressed zero interest in even breathing the air that hung around him. Unfortunately for me, he doesn't know that.

A big stupid grin formed on his big stupid mouth. "What're ya up to these days?"

"Killing people," I answered truthfully. I don't even have enough respect for him to lie.

He started to snort in a really obnoxious way. He slapped his thighs mid laughter as my irritation grew rapidly. "Ha! Always a dry sense of humor you have, Cherry-pie."

My jaw snapped. "Don't call me that."

He leaned his lanky, leather jacket clad body on the hood of my car and sent me a wink. "Ya busy tonight? Me and the boys are plannin' go to a party down at George's house."

"I don't know any George."

"Neither do I, but does it matter? It's free booze."

It leaves me flabbergasted; the fact that I'd managed to dye my hair, changed my style, laid low, and even cut all ties and contacts-all that, and still I fail to disappear from this maggot's radar.

I mustered my best 'don't fuck with me' look and kicked his bony hip off the surface of my car. I entered the vehicle and started the engine. "Do me a favor and never talk to me again, why don't you."

"Aw come on, Cherry-pie. You never go out!" he cried.

The fool yelped when I forcefully revved up the engine. He jumped to the side for the good of his life. Smart move. I swiveled the vehicle outside the parking lot and drove my way to the house, bordering over the speed limit.