part0015

I’m leaning against the doorway of my bedroom, wearing jogging pants and sipping coffee, staring at Mia as she lies peacefully in my bed. The sheets are covering most of her body. She’s on her side, with an arm tucked beneath a pillow. Her chest is rising and falling slowly.

I didn’t sleep with her. It just wasn’t the right thing to do. Both voices in my head shouted at me a lot last night, but this was one of those rare times where I didn’t listen to either one of them.

We had a few drinks at the race meet, stayed for the first race, and then left. I offered to walk her home. She suggested coming back here for another drink. We did. After the drink, she kissed me. I kissed her back. Couldn’t help it, really. But I stopped before it went any further. Aside from her being more than half my age, it just didn’t feel right. I told her she was welcome to stay the night and that I’d take the sofa. She understood. She was pretty great about it, actually. I thought she might be offended or something, but she was fine.

I spent most of the night sat wide awake, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with me. I imagine most guys in my position would have simply enjoyed the company of an attractive young lady. Ruby said I should. The internal sounding board that has guided me through so much of my life agreed. Yet, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

And it wasn’t until three o’clock this morning that I realized why.

I’m not weighing myself down with guilt about my wife and daughter. Not anymore. I avenged their memories and laid them to rest. I love them, and I always will, but I’ve finally moved on with my life, as they would undoubtedly want me to do.

But there’s no getting away from the fact that if my daughter was still alive… if my baby girl was still here… sweet Maria would be twenty years old right now. Those paternal instincts never leave you, even if your child does, for one reason or another. It’s not Mia’s age in relation to mine that’s the problem. It’s the fact she’s the same age as my daughter would’ve been. I can’t do it. I just can’t.

I leave her sleeping and head back downstairs to get dressed. I throw on my clothes from last night and sit down heavily on the sofa, staring at the floor for a few minutes. Then at the ceiling. I let out an impatient, restless sigh and move over to the window. It’s not dark, but the dull, early morning haze hasn’t shifted yet. The sun isn’t high enough to illuminate the gray clouds from behind.

I look down at the sprawling mass of humanity below me until my eyes glaze over. Minutes pass by like seconds until my gaze re-focuses. My mind engages, zeroing in on a subconscious thought deemed important enough to distract me with.

Ruby didn’t come home last night. She texted me a little after midnight to say her main course had won his race, and they were heading to a club to celebrate. She ended the message by telling me not to worry or wait up.

Maybe she’s right. Maybe everyone’s right. Maybe it’s time I stop being so reluctant to enjoy the spoils of my ill-gotten gains, embrace the fact I’m in my twilight years as an assassin, and start living a little.

Yeah… maybe take a trip somewhere. Japan’s a big place—plenty to see outside of Tokyo. Maybe Ruby will want to come with me?

“It’s an amazing view.”

Mia’s voice startles me. I look around to see her standing at the bottom of the stairs, smiling. She’s wearing one of my shirts, which drowns her. Her toned, olive legs are crossed right over left. While she isn’t as tall as Ruby, she’s not short—maybe five-four or five-five. Her hair looks straight and neat. It’s possible she tidied it up before coming downstairs. I don’t know.

She pads barefoot toward me, stopping at my side and looking out of the window.

“You sleep okay?” I ask her.

She nods. “Yeah, thanks. Your bed is so comfortable! And your apartment is amazing. The rent must be crazy for a place like this.”

I shrug. “I wouldn’t know… I bought it outright.”

I shrug again. “Yeah. It’s no big deal. I do all right for myself. Coffee?”

Her eyes are wide. Her lips curl into a disbelieving half-smile. “That’d be great, thanks.”

I walk over to the kitchenette and grab a mug from the cupboard. As I move to close it, my hand starts to twitch. I feel the pinch inside and stare at my appendage as I slowly lose control of it.

I open the drawer beside me. Take out the painkillers and pop three tablets out of the small, foil-backed sheet. I shove them quickly into my mouth, swallowing them dry. I grimace as one sticks momentarily in my throat, but I force it down. I lower my arm to my side, slowly flexing my hand, willing it to stay still. It’s uncomfortable without causing much pain, but once the spasms subside, it aches for hours.

It frustrates me more than anything, and I do what I can to subdue my unjustified anger as I continue making Mia’s coffee. I put my right hand in the pocket of my jogging pants and pick up her mug with my much steadier left. I turn to walk over to her, but she’s already at the counter, sitting on one of the stools, leaning forward slightly on crossed arms.

“You okay?” she asks.

Seeing her there made me forget myself for a brief moment. I must’ve been so distracted while taking my meds, I didn’t hear her walking over.

I smile and gently slide the hot coffee toward her. “Yeah, I’m good. You want sugar or cream?”

She shakes her head. “As it comes is fine, thank you.”

“You drink coffee as it should be drunk… I like that.”

She laughs. “Typical guy.” She picks up the mug in both hands. Blows gently and takes a sip. “So, what’s with the pain meds? Everything okay?”

I glance at my right hand, despite trying not to. “It’s… ah… it’s an old injury. Still gives me a little grief from time to time. Nothing to worry about.”

She takes another sip of her drink. “So, tell me. Where did you live before moving to Tokyo?”

I move around the counter and take a seat beside her. “I moved around a lot with work. I was lucky enough to see a lot of the world.”

“Was? You’re a little young to be retired, aren’t you?”

She smiles and nudges my arm playfully with hers.

I shrug, fighting the rush of color in my cheeks. “I worked as a consultant. The money was great, but after 4/17, my… my industry changed. As did most things, I guess. I had enough put away that I didn’t need to worry about things for a while, so I took the opportunity to move away, enjoy being in one place for a change.”

The official line. The practiced lie. Effortless and believable.

I return her gesture of a playful nudge, arm to arm. “What about you? What brings you this far east?”

She goes to speak but stops herself, opting for a sip of coffee instead.

“I’m studying while I’m travelling. Killing two birds with one stone while I’m young enough to get away with it.”

“Nice. What are you studying?”

She looks at me. “Psychology and journalism. I’ve always wanted to know why people do the things they do, y’know? And I figure the world should know about what really goes on around here. Especially nowadays.”

I nod. “I can appreciate that. Lot of people doing a lot of weird shit. And even more people wanting to read about it. You come to Japan on your own?”

“Yeah. I knew a couple of people over here, but I don’t see them much.”

“What about your family? Must be hard being away from them?”

She shrugs. “I don’t have much, to be honest. I never knew my dad, and my mom passed away a few years ago.”

“Shit… I’m sorry to hear that.”

She shrugs again. “Thanks. She left me some money that I couldn’t access ’til I was eighteen. I used it to come over here.”

“Well, you sound like you’re doing okay. Takes confidence to live your own life. Good for you.”

She grins at me but says nothing.

“Listen, Mia… about last night…”

She puts her hand up. “You don’t have to say anything, let alone apologize. It was fine last night, and it’s still fine this morning, I promise. It’s, ah… it’s the age thing, isn’t it?”

I smile an apology. “Kinda, yeah.”

“Well, look… for what it’s worth…” She spins in her seat to face me, then stands and leans in close. Her lips brush my ear. “It’s not a problem for me. Y’know, if you ever change your mind.”

She sits back down, still facing me. Her foot rests against my leg.

What the hell is going on?

I must be insane. Mia’s gorgeous, and I don’t get the impression she’s looking for a future husband or anything. I have my reservations and reasons, but maybe I’m thinking too much about it. I mean, let’s be honest. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve shot myself in the foot by overthinking, would it?

I keep telling myself I’ve turned over a new leaf. That I’m different now. That I’ve learned from my past. I knew Josh better than he knew himself, and he would’ve said the same about me. That’s why I’m able to visualize him as part of my conscience. Deep down, I’m honest enough with myself that I know exactly what he would say to me in any given situation. Yes, his moral compass was sometimes as questionable as mine can be, but he’d slap me senseless if I could have this debate with him right now.

He would question if I was just using the fact my daughter would’ve been the same age as an excuse. A way of sabotaging a chance for myself to be happy because of some misplaced sense of guilt, or a feeling that I don’t want to be happy because, based on past experiences, when I am, things usually go wrong soon afterward.

I reach out and take hold of her hand. Look into her hazel eyes. They’re bright, full of life.

I take a breath, steel myself. “Mia, I hope you don’t think I’m being an asshole about… whatever this is?”

She smiles. “I don’t.”

“And I definitely didn’t intervene the other night for any reason other than it was the right thing to do.”

“Oh, God… of course. I know you didn’t, and I’m eternally grateful.”

“I can’t deny you’re attractive…”

Her cheeks fill with color.

“…and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to… y’know… spend time with you.”

She gets to her feet again. Moves in close again. Moves her hand so her fingers are interlaced with mine. “Then what are you waiting for, Adrian?”

I shake my head slowly. “Y’know what? Absolutely nothing.”

I move my head toward her. I hear her hold her breath. She closes her eyes, tilts her head. I move to—

My ringtone blasts out in the silence, jolting me from the moment.

We look at each other and smile. We shake our heads playfully, and she sits back down.

I get to my feet. “Sonofabitch. Sorry, I should get that.”

She picks up her mug and smiles. “It’s okay.”

I look around the room, trying to find the damn thing.

It’s on the arm of the sofa.

I stride over for it, but it stops ringing the moment I pick it up. I look at the screen. Missed call from Ruby.

I’d best call her back. Make sure she’s okay.

I unlock the screen, but as I do, I hear the elevator hum and rattle into life. I look over. The display above the doors is counting up.

Looks as if Ruby was just letting me know she was back. Knowing her, she probably wants a hand with her bags… some emergency shopping on the way home.

I turn to Mia, who’s spun around to face me, mug in hand. “That was Ruby. I’m guessing she’s on her way up now.”

Mia smiles again. Shrugs. She looks cute.

“No problem. Raincheck, yeah?”

I nod. “Yeah, definitely.”

My phone beeps. I frown. Look at the screen.

A message from Ruby?

I unlock the phone and open it up.

I stare at the screen, stunned to silence.

The message simply reads: 911.

My mind explodes, creating a mushroom cloud of questions and hypotheticals inside my head. I take a deep breath. The first step in a process engrained in my subconscious—a result of over two decades of training and experience. Like editing an audio file on a computer, I’m tuning out the background noise. Silencing the unnecessary words.

It takes me all of two seconds to filter out the panic and focus on what I know, and what I need to know.

I know Ruby’s in trouble. My spider sense is going haywire. See, 911 is our agreed code for get your ass over here, I’m in deep shit . It’s easy to type in a hurry and is about as unambiguous as you can get in a text message. It isn’t used lightly, which means she needs me. Right now.

There are, however, a couple of issues. First…

I look over at Mia. Her expression has changed. She’s frowning. Confused. Concerned. She can tell something’s not right. But she doesn’t know me. Not really. She doesn’t know who I am or what I’ve done, and I would very much like to keep it that way.