Evelyn

Chapter 30 - "Happy Women's History Month, Asshole."

Chapter Song: Epiphany by Taylor Swift

                                            Evelyn
"You've gotta be shitting me."

At this point, I'm not even surprised Derek's here. I run a hand over my face and sigh, utterly exasperated. I looked at Derek with the most unbothered look I could muster. It is four forty five in the morning and my will to live is steadily declining.

"It's way too early for this shit," I sighed. "Can't you try and kill us at a more reasonable hour?"

"Take about three steps away from each other," Derek said, disregarding my blatancy.

"Derek," Michael began cautiously, putting his hands up in a display of self defense. "You need to let us go. Evelyn has work soon and people will be suspicious if she's not there."

"Actually, she doesn't. Look at the calendar," Derek's waved at it with his gun. (Again, way too early for this.) "There's nothing written for today."

He's right, there is nothing written for today because my new philosophy is 'calendars are for people who's lives are put together.' Seeing as I'm always one change in tone away from a breakdown, I'd say I don't fit in with calendar people.

Wait. This could work.

As previously stated, I believe that I could be a world-renowned super spy. A sizable part of superspy activities entails lying and acting. Although I didn't take theater in high school and I've never had any formal acting experience, I would like to believe that my performance of the fake arguments I made up in the shower constitutes enough experience.

"It was worth a try," I told Michael with a small smile. God I hope he catches onto what I'm thinking. "I took the day off because I needed a break from annoying customers. You remember me telling you about Ms. Nakaya, right?

If we played our cards right, we would be able to stall Derek long enough for Detective Nakaya to see I'm not at work, speed over to my apartment, and aren't Derek before he kills us.

That shouldn't be too hard.

I hoped to see a change in his expression, but there was nothing. If he understood what I meant, then he didn't show it. As much as I hate to say it, maybe him not catching on is a good thing; it makes his desperation seem more genuine. I hate that, though. I don't want him to be scared. I want him to know that it'll be okay.

I also want me to know that it'll be okay too.

I tend to overthink and my thoughts flow in circles, but I would like to thank whatever higher power gave me this idea and hope for the coherency to execute my plan.

Communication skills are pretty much a requirement in customer service, which means I should be able to talk my way through this ordeal. Although I love Michael to death, he's maybe possibly sometimes not the best at talking to people. Usually he looks at people with the same facial expression as when one flipped someone off in a fit of road rage. Just like how he's looking at Derek now which definitely isn't helping. If we don't want to die, maybe he should try being more friendly.

"Listen, Derek," I started. "Just tell me now, are you going to kill us?"

"Probably."

Michael tensed.

"Well isn't that wonderful. Tell me though, what's your getaway plan? If you kill us then the cops will know you did it, so how are you getting out of this? Why do you hate Michael so much? And why try and pin the drugs on me?"

Derek narrowed his eyes, "why would I tell you that?"

"You're killing us regardless of whether you tell me or not. Just humor me, one last good story before I go."