Chapter Six - So You Think You Can Be a Hitman?
“Whoever said to keep your friends close and your enemies closer was a dumbass. That’s bullshit. Don’t get too chummy with either, just stay on good terms with both and you’ll do just fine.”
- Jon Mason
I’d rather keep closer to friends, though. Friends I can trust not to stalk me and frame me.
But then again, the few friends I have are all a little odd. Okay, fine, a lot, but they’re nice…. Most of the time.
Okay that’s depressing, I’ll stop thinking about that now….
“And… there!” Peyton huffed in a thick, but well practiced accent as she put the finishing touches to her disguise with some makeup. She winked at herself in the mirror, smacking her lips as she capped her lipstick. “Disguise complete,” she patted her hair in place and checked her wig was on right.
I didn’t mean to, but I stared. What had happened to Pay-Me-Up-Peyton? Had she finally become a girl?
“What?” she said, probably seeing me stare at her in the mirror. “Never seen a girl put makeup on before?” she waved me off, rolling her eyes (blue again, thanks to some colored contact lenses). “Stupid men, always staring!”
“No…. I just can’t get over how little you look like Peyton,” I said. “The old Peyton was… short, and… how do I put this?” I opened and closed my hands in the air, searching for a word that wasn’t offensive.
“They’re called heels,” Peyton’s knee snapped out to kick me in the shin with her platform shoes. I jumped and grabbed my shin. That fucking hurt. “And you’ve gotten wimpy, Kola.”
“And you’ve finally filled in,” I said, unsure whether it was my choice of words, my tone, or the hand motions I was making that enraged her. Probably a combination of the three, and I was lucky she didn’t jump me and begin beating the crap out of me. I knew from experience that she could really pack a punch.
“And you’re still an asshole,” Peyton spoke each word with upmost care, as if she were trying to put every ounce of her anger she could muster in each one.
“I may be an asshole, but I’m not wimpy,” I said, straightening my plain black tie. Simplicity goes miles. “It’s called changing one’s ways, but you’d know nothing about changing for the people you care for-- That is if there is anyone else but yourself.”
She cringed, and I instantly felt bad because--
Lumina
“I knew Lumina better than you did, so shut up!” Peyton said, turning away from me.
I sighed. It had been a while since I had thought of her--Lumina--the first and only woman I had ever loved in that sense. It had been even longer since I’d heard her name.
“It’s your fault for bringing me, the asshole, here,” I said. “If you don’t want me here I can always go.”
“No, you’re staying,” Peyton shot me a glare over her shoulder. “C’mere,” she muttered, turning around and taking me by the tie. She gave it a little tug, straightened it and nibbled on her lower lip, looking me up and down.
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Crybaby Boy
Mystery / ThrillerI believe in coincideces, but not in mass. Once coincidence, yes. Two, that's already a sure sign of bad things to come, and I'd know that bad things don't come in threes. They come by the bucket, by the truckload. I guess today is just another o...
