Guns, Roses & Everything in Between

CHAPTER FIVE

"You are too much of a smart mouth for your own good. Your behavior's the kind that would get you or someone involved killed someday." He whirled around, not really responding to my biting remark.

"You are free to leave." With that, he leaned against a wall, sighing.

Even though he clearly gave me a chance to run or reject his request, my feet were stubborn, content on staying put. I have no idea what spell he has over me (it probably must've been his eyes, I bet) but I wanted to help him.

Even though he was a stranger.

And probably was surrounded with danger everywhere he went.

But still.

I went inside and made sure not to leave my things in one of the restroom's dirty spots, propping up my bag on one knee, while I had no problem with putting the suitcase on top of the tiny sink.

It laid open, the contents exposed for me to examine.

I saw a white skirt and top, a pink studded belt, a cardigan and white sandals enclosed in tight plastic, a blonde pixie-cut wig that looked real, pink gloves, and a device.

Pink. Really?

Honey, I'm not Ashley Tisdale. I'd look like some cheap version of a blonde, pink-obsessed rich girl. I wanted to shout at him.

I hoped this wouldn't take long, my classes...urgh.

As I wrestled the clothes on, my eyes flitted towards the device. What was that for...?

I laced up my sandals and belt, straightening my outfit out. At last, I pulled on the pair of gloves.

Not too bad, not too bad, I mused.

Maybe pink could be my color after all.

Coming out with the device, the backpack and the suitcase in tow, I spotted the guy waiting outside.

Going near him, I tossed both bags to him. He caught them, not even looking surprised. He didn't comment on my decision to stay.

It's as if nothing happened.

"You don't have to put up an act this time." This time?

"I need you to go to a phone booth over the next street, next to a bank. Call this number," he handed me a slip of paper with numbers displayed in clear print.

"And that device," he motioned to the little block clenched in my grip. "You turn that on. It's a communication device for mute people."

"But bro, I'm not mute."

"Clearly," he rolled his eyes, expression almost pained. I could almost hear the silent 'duh'.

"That's to conceal your voice. We wouldn't want anyone recognizing you. You are to deliver a message to the person who picks up. Use this to type," he gestured to the keyboard. "exactly what I tell you to type. Are we clear?"

"Yessir." He gave me another piece of paper, this time with the message.

"Knock yourself out. Oh, and don't forget to conceal the device and papers you're holding with this tiny little bag I got for you."

He tossed a little white purse at me, barely looking back to see if I caught it, disappearing off to a curb.

I walked over to the telephone booth, and closed it shut. I examined the phone number, and I discovered that it was Korean.