part0013

After our heart-to-heart earlier, Ruby suggested we celebrate our newfound working arrangement by going out tonight. I thought she meant for drinks, but it turns out there’s a street racing meet somewhere—which is a cultural phenomenon consisting of fast, over-priced, tricked-out cars, young people, and loud music. It’s not exactly legal, but it’s well-organized. A haven for Yakuza activity too.

Sounds like my idea of hell, if I’m honest. But it’s very much Ruby’s scene, and she’s excited, so I figure it won’t kill me to step outside my comfort zone. Consequently, she’s spent the last hour and a half in the bathroom, preparing for tonight. I’m standing in my room, staring at my closet, wondering what to wear.

I spend way too much time with her.

It’s not as if I’ll be out of place. I’m hardly a stranger to any aspect of the criminal underworld. But I don’t want to draw too much attention to myself. It’s risky for me going to any gathering involving people and business of a questionable nature because I’m inviting the world to see me, remember me, and ultimately link me to something that might happen later. I need to blend in.

Unfortunately, I’m not a twenty-something street racer with a sense of fashion. I’m a forty-seven-year-old semi-retired hitman, and unsurprisingly, I dress as such. I may as well show up ringing a bell and wearing an A-board that says, “I’m going to kill you!”

I let out a deep, weary breath.

“Got nothing that matches your new shoes and make-up?”

I roll my eyes and glance over my shoulder. Ruby’s leaning against my doorframe, apparently fresh out of the shower. She has a towel wrapped around her, and she’s dripping on the carpet. There’s a wry smile etched on her face.

I look back at my closet. “I just want to do this right. Get the right look, y’know? I don’t want to show you up or anything.”

I hear her padding toward me. A moment later, she’s by my side. “You’re cute, do you know that?”

I shrug. “Yeah…”

“Asshole,” she says, laughing. “Go casual. Jeans. T-shirt. Sneakers. You’ll be fine.”

“What makes you so sure? Go to a lot of street racing gatherings, do you?”

She shrugs. “I’ve been to more than you. Trust me.”

“Uh-huh. And what are you wearing tonight?”

She turns to me. Grins. Pinches my cheek with a damp hand. “Something that’s gonna stop traffic.”

“Well, given where we're going, that sounds very counter-productive, if you ask me.”

She pinches my cheek like an auntie embarrassing her favorite nephew before leaving my room smiling.

I continue staring at my less-than-diverse collection of clothing and sigh.

It’s going to be a long night.

I took Ruby’s advice. Plain black T-shirt, dark blue jeans, and white sneakers. My brown leather jacket is unfastened, although I suspect it’ll be freezing when we step outside, so that might change. It’s looking a little worse for wear nowadays. But then, aren’t we all? I love this jacket. I’ve had it a long time, and it’s seen a lot of shit. Can’t bring myself to replace it.

Beneath it is a shoulder holster, strapped tightly to the left side of my torso, just below my armpit. Cradled inside it is my gun—a custom Smith and Wesson SW1911. The barrel and frame are stainless steel. The grip has a laminated wooden finish, engraved with a yin-yang symbol. I thought that was more prudent than a devil, now that I have opposing voices of reason.

I’ve added a two-inch extension to the barrel, making it seven inches in total. It adds a couple of grams to the overall weight, but the resulting boost in accuracy is off the charts. Plus, it looks all kinds of badass.

As much as I loved my twin Berettas, I found the combined weight of them in the holster at my lower back was taking its toll. I’m trying to stay healthy, and wearing something that was damaging my long-term mobility wasn’t a smart choice. The shoulder holster works very well, and having a single gun makes moving around much easier. The only downside is that I moved from having two nineteen-round guns to having one nine-round gun. That’s a serious drop in ammo capacity. Luckily, I don’t use it that often anymore, and not having to carry two weapons around with me means I have room to carry a couple of spare magazines and a suppressor, so it’s not all bad, I guess.

I’m standing by the elevator, waiting for Ruby. Pacing back and forth in front of the doors. I’m a naturally restless and impatient person. I hate waiting around for anything. If there’s somewhere I need to go, or something I need to do, I’d rather just do it.

I turn as I hear the clacking of Ruby’s heels on the stairs. I see her shoes first as she descends slowly. Then her legs. Then—

She’s standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking at me. She’s wearing a dress. It’s black, with a white stripe running up each side. It has a strap over one shoulder, and it’s clinging to every inch of her body in just the right way to show off her impressive figure. It’s long enough that it covers her underwear, although if I were her, I’d be careful bending down for anything. It has a high enough neckline that it doesn’t show any cleavage, but I’m guessing she’s wearing one of those bras underneath that pushes everything together, because the twins look a lot bigger than they did an hour ago. Her legs look deceptively long, probably because of the black heels she’s wearing. The whole outfit makes her look as tall as I am, even though she’s about five inches shorter. To finish the look off, she has a small black bag with a long gold chain resting over the shoulder that’s not covered by the dress.

She glances at the floor. Shimmies her dress down a little, for all the good it does. She brushes her hair behind her ear and looks back at me patiently. Perhaps expectantly, like she’s waiting for me to say something. But, honestly, I don’t have any words for how amazing she looks. In fact, I’ve just realized… I’m not even breathing!

I gasp in a quick breath and shake my head, cursing myself for staring.

She looks… incredible . Never mind stopping traffic—she’ll stop hearts walking down the street looking like that! And I stand by what I said before. Ruby and I… it’s purely platonic. Mostly. I’m not saying I don’t look at her and see the appeal, but I don’t have any feelings toward her beyond friendship.

At least, I’m pretty sure I don’t.

The life we have, co-habiting together, suits us both just fine. Sure, she flirts a little. Okay, a lot . And by flirting, I mean she often wanders around naked just for the sheer amusement she gets from making me feel uncomfortable. But that’s just her. That’s how she’s always been, and honestly, I barely notice it anymore. I’m—

Screw you. Josh, back me up here, man.

I hear his hearty, British chuckle echoing through my mind. It brings a brief smile to my face.

Great. I have two voices in my head, and if that wasn’t enough to make me sound crazy, I’m being bullied by the pair of them!

I’ve been standing here a while. So has Ruby.

Yeah… I should say something.

I run a hand over my head. “You, ah… you’re gonna freeze going out in that, y’know?”

I swear I just heard the slap of both my inner voices face-palming themselves.

She smiles and walks over to me. The sound of her heels on the floor resonates around the apartment. She stops beside me and kisses my cheek. “The whole time when you weren’t talking was a much bigger compliment, but I appreciate the effort.”

She moves past me and hits the call button for the elevator. I close my eyes briefly and smile to myself before joining her.

I glance sideways. “Seriously, Ruby, you’re going to freeze out there without a jacket or something.”

She shrugs. “Surely, you would offer me yours if I got too cold?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Would you want it?”

She looks me up and down before pinching the material of the sleeve and rubbing her thumb over it. After a moment, she shakes her head. “I’d rather have hypothermia.”

The doors slide open and we both step inside. She hits the button for the first floor, and the doors glide gently together again.

She looks at me. “Tomorrow, we’re going shopping. You need a better wardrobe.”

I roll my eyes but say nothing. We both smile as a relaxed silence descends.

I turn to her. “There’s no way you’ve fit your gun in that purse…”

She shakes her head. “No, I haven’t.”

“And there’s no way you’re not packing…”

She nods. “Correct.”

I look her up and down. Scratch the back of my head. “Uh…”

She throws her head back and laughs. “Assuming there’s no drama tonight, you’ll never find out where I’m carrying it.” She shrugs. “Then again, if you’re lucky… maybe I’ll show you anyway.”