Chapter 4 Memories

I let my mind drift away to the day all this started while we were driving to the shooting range. It was a very fresh memory in my mind. One that I loved pondering on.

***

My father watches me like a hawk from the sidelines and even though he is barely visible through the shadows, I can tell the man is there. The way the room just feels a few degrees colder and the burning of his eyes to the back of my head is a dead giveaway. He is there, he is waiting for me to mess up like I always do so that he can clean it up. The irony of it is I know I won't mess up. This time is not like all the other times. Things have changed. I have changed. I have trained more and my target hits are more accurate than even. I can decipher things from a mile away and I am also dealing with an amateur. I know that because I have checked his work and in all honesty this dude needs to go back to training again. In our world, there is no room for error and absolutely no room to come and try learning especially if you do not have someone to cover up your tracks like I do. My father and I disagree on everything including the job but I know one thing. No matter how much of a mess I make, he will always clean it up. The hot glare on my back reminds me I have a job to do and I move forward.

My long red dress seems to make quite an impression in the all black, masquerade party. I am a girl who loves making statement, and also one who isn't all so girly. The heeled slippers are starting to feel a tad bit too uncomfortable and the dress feels a bit itchy around my stomach area. I however smile the discomfort away, throwing my long hair over my back and walking towards him. The hall is filled with various scents but the most distinct one, that I can almost taste on my mouth is the alcohol. Had I not been in business long enough, I would mistake this for a high school party for pretty obvious reasons. One the music is as shitty as it comes and the people are all so drunk, evidently too drunk to tell where the washrooms are. I scrunch my nose and walk a little too fast as I pass the man who is peeing against the wall thinking it the urinal. Funny as it is, I don't stop around to laugh. My time is almost up.

His red tie on his all black outfit stands out like a rose in the thorns. The aura around him is as dark as the one around my father, but it doesn't scare me. Growing up around it has made me immune to it. I walk towards him practicing and swaying my hips a little bit better to make sure that he sees me and he does. The research was right, women are his thing and evidently he will bite whatever there is for him as long as it is a woman. I sit next to him on the bar and ask for a glass of whiskey. He looks at me and by the way his eyes scrutinize me I am certain that he is checking me out and appreciating it. I for one hope it will be worth it because I cannot dare wear a dress and thong again for the rest of my life. It is really uncomfortable that I am starting to wonder why women like torturing themselves. My drink comes and I take a sip, appreciating the warmth that quickly radiates through my body.

"Never seen a girl smile while taking such a manly drink," He comments and I know it is directed to me. I was waiting for this moment and it is now here. Of course he knows what whiskey tastes like and he knows the burning that it goes down the throat with since he is also nursing his own in his arms but I pretend not to notice it at first. It is all a game and the person who plays it the best is the one who will end up winning. I take another sip and swallow with a smile before turning to his direction. The mask may have many people fooled but not me. I feel like I can already even tell the desires of his heart just by looking into his eyes. It is especially disgusting with how he licks his lips all while looking at mine. Aside from knowing the evils that he has done, the man is overall good looking. The nice stubble on his chin and well-built physics are one of the many attractive things about him, as well as his deep voice. I clear my voice before responding to him, wanting to make sure I sound as girly as possible.

"Then you have never seen a girl who has just had a taste of Irish whiskey. This shit is good." I convey back. I give him the most beautiful smile that I can ever give to anyone hoping it don't crack or reveal who I am. The good thing about living in the shadows is that most times people will just not recognize you, especially if you are the hidden gem for a whole community somewhere. I can now feel a second pair of eyes except those of my dad and I can immediately recognize who. He is the only person whose gaze brings me comfort and not pressure. I try my best not to turn in his direction and smile at him. I can't jeopardize this chance that I have now. Ignoring the eyes, I stretch forth my hand to the man, offering him a greeting that he responds to all while introducing himself. It takes everything in me to make sure that I wait until he pulls his hand away first. I am repulsed by him but basing on how many of the women in the room are still gawking at him, I know he is not so bad. Business is business though.

"My friends call me Shel," I introduce making sure not to give out the name that is widely known and feared. I do not wish to compromise the whole affair. He takes my hand to his lips and kisses gently on my fingers. His lips are soft and warm against my skin and for a moment I am tempted to think that maybe I am doing the wrong thing. I thwart the thought as fast as it comes remembering that in this world, I do not make the rules, neither do I get to judge whether something is deserved or not. My work is to do as I am told up until the day I will be the one giving orders. I know it will happen soon. From the way my father's health had been deteriorating it might be any moment between now and the future. Until then, this gently but dark aura-d man, is destined for something different. I smile at him and wait till he lets go of my hand. I know what is about to befall him and I try so hard but I cannot master even a small hint of remorse for him.

He lets go of my hand and we keep drinking, our conversation getting drowned into the loud music and the disorder going on around me. This is not the kind of environment I like and father knows it but he has continuously decided to mistreat me by making sure that I will sit through that torture. I can feel the anxiety rising and the restlessness is almost starting to show. From the very depths of my soul I can feel the formication spreading and somehow I do not know what to do. My hands get clammy but I hide it by bringing my drink to my mouth and downing all of it. It doesn't drown it down. It feels harsher and wilder. I get up and excuse myself barely making it to the front door when I met with my father's amused eyes. He is happy now that his point has been proven. It is very much almost crossing the line of impossibility that I can work in such an environment without breaking down. I almost give him the middle finger but I realize I run the risk of being called crazy because no one can really see him.

I heave in appreciation as the fresh air from the outside hits my lungs. I feel like I can breathe for the first time but it not long before the pollution around the city mixes up with what I was appreciating as fresh air do I realize why I carry the damned pills with me whenever I go. I catch myself while almost doing a pat down of my outfit when I realize they are in my pulse. I almost cuss the damned gods of femininity for introducing dresses that don't have the same advantages as pant suits. I get the small pill bottle and rashly pop it open bringing one of the white pills to my mouth and swallowing it dry. At the same moment the alcohol actually decides it is the best moment for it to hit my blood system and I feel slightly tipsy. I almost have to remind myself to take deep breaths in order to go back to normal but it is not working, at least not until a hand comes to my back and a soft voice breaks through the barricade of weirdness do I try.