Holiday is no ordinary house wife she is much more than just a mother she holds a dark secret. She has kept this secret from her perfect life now that she was blind -sided by a person she loved Holiday secret has to come to the light. What Holiday soon finds out is that she holds a special gift that will help in protecting the family she grew to love.
MEET THE LION
I am on the road, listening to some new songs by one of my favorite bands. I will be in Detroit shortly. I need to be there before my assignment arrives. I do not know who he is or what he’s done, but whatever it is, his time is limited. I am on my way to end him, anyone he is with, and all who can see. I have no emotions when it comes to killing innocents. It’s my job. I do not know him and really couldn’t care less about whose life is about to end, but I do need a break. I have been working for six months straight, so when this job is done I need a vacation from killing for at least six months. I am going to be as gentle with Ava as possible. She is not going to be happy, but who cares? I will just tell her that I need to do some weddings to keep face before people start to wonder where I’m getting money from. The bottom line is I need a break. Joe and Evey need me more and I cannot focus on both efficiently. I need to gather my thoughts for about six months, and then I will be ready for more missions. I see the sign: Entering Wayne County.
I get off on the exit that I was told and as I get close I pass the place to do a quick head count. Umm… it’s a diner—I thought it would have been something different. Oh well. It looks like there are about ten or twelve people including the waitress, and there must be a cook and probably a bus boy. Ok Holiday, this will be easy. I know from the packet under my seat that my target’s name is Peter Smith, which is not his real name I am sure. He is from Nigeria and usually has four men with him: his driver, two bodyguards, and his assistant.
Peter Smith is a man who loves attractive women and believes in getting everything he desires. I guess I’m the attractive woman. Ava really needs to stop sending me on these types of missions. I am merely an average Jewish woman. I have long brown hair with a slight natural curl, clear porcelain skin, and deep hazel-grey eyes. Nothing to get worked up over. I will say that my gaze will draw not only men, but also women into my web, and they will become putty in my hands. Like I said, all of my sisters have better bodies than me, but I can make anyone putty in my hands once I make eye contact. Although my husband begs to differ—he thinks I have a gorgeous body.
I find a space to park two blocks away. I grab my bag and walk at a fast pace, but not too fast. I do not need too much attention, though I am eager to get this over with and get back home. When I get closer to my destination, I go around back through the alley and look around to make sure no one is looking. I place a small amount of C-4 on the brick building. It forms perfectly to the door handle as it should—I don’t want to blow up more than I have to. I grab my bag, which looks like a designer bag on the outside, but within, this bag contains my weapons of choice. I walk in the diner and take a seat near the door, where it gives me a view of everyone. The waitress comes over—she looks like she is in her early thirties. She is an attractive African-American woman. As she hands me a menu, I notice she is wearing a wedding ring. I must not take notice of these things, for her time is up. No attachments. That is one of the rules. There are many I have already broken (two that were really bad, and I’m not trying for three).
“May I take your order? The special today is the cook’s Spanish omelet.” Her voice is gentle and sounds like she is not working here by choice. I am not hungry, but must pretend.
“Yes, can I have a bowl of fruit and a cup of hot tea with cream and sugar?”
“Is that all ma’am? Sure you don’t want anything else?” she asks.
You’ve got to be kidding me. I place my order. Do not ask me if I’m sure—don’t I look sure? It really bugs me when people ask stupid questions. I notice that my vision gets a little blurry for a moment as my temper rises. I better get to the eye doctor: this makes twice today that my sight has wavered. What’s up? Anyways, I will remain a lady and keep my thoughts to myself.
“No thank you, that will be it,” I reply. She need not ask another question, for my patience is short. I really need a break to gain some control. Even my vision is tired.
“I will be right back with your tea, ma'am,” she answers politely.
This lady... do I look like a ma'am? I am only twenty-four. She is older than me. Whatever. Its’ 8:45 now, and in thirty minutes I will be on my way home…hopefully. There is always risk when on a mission; though we are taught to always think we will come out alive. I sit there and think of how I was to play this out. I always have many plans when I have a mission. I have to be discreet enough that I am not noticed when I leave. I am going to leave through the back and will set the bomb off then. It’s amazing how fast I can run in high-heels.
The waitress brings me my fruit and tea; I say thank you without looking up. I pull a book out and pretend to read. She tries to strike up a conversation with me by asking me what I’m reading. Being that this is a mission, I am not in the mood for social convo. Niceness will not happen at this moment, so I rudely tell her I would like to be left alone. I hear her kind of gasp, but I am thick-skinned right now. She is nothing to me: not even human, just something that can be thrown away. This is another rule: when you have to include innocent people in your mission, make sure you treat them like trash, something that you can throw away. They are nothing: something you have no use for, like spoiled milk.
I look out the window and two black SUVs pull up. Peter Smith will be in the second SUV. They all get out. Will I be so lucky that they all come in?! Please all come in, please all come in. I really know I’m going to hell now. I’m almost praying they all come in so I can do my job. If they all come in, my work for this assignment will be much easier.
Another rule is to always have a number of plans at all times: things could change. What kind of person thinks like this? I do. I really want them all to come in so I can kill them all in one place, rather than working harder than I have to. I know that most people do not think like this, yet it is how I was trained. If you get lucky and get everyone in one room, you are good to go. My foot is tapping lightly as I wait to see the decision. Oh Yeessss! They are all coming in. Should I let them eat their last meal or just start killing? No. I need them to be comfortable, so I will wait until coats come off and food is at the table. They will be relaxed, with their guards down—then I will strike. They sit two tables from me. Peter faces me and the others’ backs are to me. This is perfect. I sip my tea, thinking I will be home soon, until I hear a voice trying to get my attention.
“Excuse me, pretty lady,” a man says in a foreign accent.
I know he is not trying to strike up a convo—so stupid and lame. I guess he has no clue who he is talking to…a wild animal. How funny.
“Are you talking to me?” I ask. I pretend to be surprised.
“You are the pretty lady, I see. Would you like to join me for breakfast? I love to eat with pretty ladies.” He speaks softly and gently, yet with superiority, like it is a prize to come sit with him.
I was always told to not bring lions to the table or someone will get eaten. I am a lion.
“I’m sorry, but I like to eat alone.” I look him dead in his eyes and I know he is captivated…I have him now. He has fallen in my web. I chuckle to myself.
He looks at me and says, “Oh please don’t reject a desperate man. I just want to get to know you, for I have never seen such beauty and class.” He is smiling so hard, while all I can think about is how I am about to end his life and everyone there. My thoughts are so crazy. I have to do this soon because he is boring me and I am ready to get home to be with my family.
I need to block the back door so no one escapes. I guess I will use more explosives. If someone tries to run out the back, they are in for a big surprise. I also decide to lock the door with a special device I call “Holiday’s Special”. It is simply a chip that when placed in an area gives me control to lock or unlock anything that will help the mission. We as Ghosts need to be able to control the environment. I agree to sit with Peter and he seems pleased, but I ask for a minute to use the ladies’ room. The eyes on my body as I walk away are not satisfying, but only make a rush come over me—I need to end this quickly. Luckily, the bathroom is right by the kitchen. I am about five feet from the back door. I move quickly, put everything in place on the back door, and walk into the bathroom.
Once I am inside I gather my thoughts, take a deep breath, and pull my special 9mm with bullets that explode inside the person—no breathing once you have been shot with one of these bullets. I also screw on my silencer—I need to be quiet until I am out of the diner. I walk out of the bathroom and my expression has changed to cold and focused. The Holiday of no mercy takes over.
I walk out and everything is slow, but I know this is my thoughts, not what is actually happening. Peter is surprised, but before he could think, I killed his men.
“Please, what do you want? You don’t have to do this—I am really rich! Please don’t—I have children!” Peter begs. It is too late. I hear screams of people yelling and trying to go to the front door, but I am a predator. They are not leaving; everyone is prey.
“I want nothing but to see you are dead.” My eyes squint as I smile.
I shoot him dead in the eye, only because his staring is irritating. I watch as the people run to the back, only to find the door locked. I call for them all, but no response. I promise I am not going to hurt them, but of course this is a lie—I just need them up front.
“Please everyone, come back to your tables.” I speak with authority. They come in. They all look scared and confused. I hope they kissed their loved ones goodbye today.
“Look, everything will be fine as long as you do exactly as I say. When I walk out the door, someone come and lock it and no one leaves until I am out of sight.” I am short and fierce.
I need them to pretend to still be eating and conversing. They all agree. I look at no one as I walk out. They do as instructed. I cross the street and see them trying to use cell phones and the diner phone. Before, I also put a device on the building that ensured no calls could be made or received. I walk across the street and see everyone looking at me. A rush of power always comes over me during a mission and this day is no different. I stop and smile, pull out my lipstick, and turn to walk away. As I turn the lipstick to place on my lips, the building explodes. It is my signature. I feel nothing for them. I forget about them instantly. Another rule: once you have completed a mission, forget.
I am in my car and on the road so fast, driving back home to my rich suburban neighborhood. I think all the way home of how one day I am going to stop because of Evey and Joe, but mostly for Evey—she is of my blood and I want her to be normal. My problem is (or so I have been told) that you are a Ghost for life. I never chose to be a Ghost, but what am I going to say? “Though I never can be trusted because you trained me to kill, being a Ghost is not my retirement plan. Can I get out?” It sounds ridiculous in my head, so I can only imagine what Ava or the others would think. Who am I kidding? This is my life and I am good at being a Ghost! I am so confused. Oh well. I put on some music and concentrate on my evening with my wonderful husband and my beautiful daughter. The lion within me is silent…for now.