Lucy walked into the bar and sat down at the counter. She nodded to the bartender who then walked over to her. “Hey Lucy,” he greeted. “Your usual?” Lucky grined.
“You know me so well.”
“Only ‘cause you’re here every day. Don’t you have a job?”
“Of course, how else do you think I pay for these drinks?” The bartender slid a glass of scotch, neat, over to the light brown skinned woman and she thanked him, and took a shot. She licked her lips.
“Oh yeah, this came for you.” the bartender handed her a manila folder labeled “CONFIDENTIAL.” She smiled and opened it up, pulling out profiles and pictures. Glanced at the big red letters and decided that was none of his business and went to go serve another customer. She looked at the profile of a man with a small picture of him stapled to the paper. He was rugged looking, big brown beard, but had short hair. His eyes were sad, almost dead. His skin was one shade away from being light brown and he wore a black t-shirt. His name was Raymundo Cárdenas and he was Lucy’s new target.
He worked at a factory down in Brooklyn making airplane parts. His wife was deceased and he had no kids. Not that him having a wife or kids would stop her from killing him. She looked at the last piece of paper; a note from her employer.
‘This man is not who he says he is. –C.Z.
Lucy put the paper down, thinking. She needed a way to get close to him. She snapped her fingers and threw a fifty dollar bill on the counter, then collected her papers and left the bar.
***
Lucy walked down the dirty streets of Brooklyn. The ground was lined with cigarette butts and empty nickel bags. The street was riddled with potholes and garbage. It smelled putrid as well what with the hot sun beating down on the garbage. Lucy almost felt bad for the people. Almost.
After stalking the man for about a week, she knew how he got home and all the alleyways in between. She waited by one of them until she saw Raymundo turn the corner. She dashed into the alley way. Standing there were three women all smoking cigarettes. Lucy smiled as they looked over at her. “Afternoon ladies,” Lucy said. Before they could respond, she punched one of them in the face. This resulted in them beating her to the ground. They kicked her in the stomach and in the head, though it was somewhat difficult because she curled up into a ball. This was absolutely humiliating to her. If this wasn’t part of her plan, she would’ve beat these girls to a bloody pulp. After a minute or two, Lucy began to wonder where Raymundo was.
Thankfully, he walked by and stopped when he heard Lucy cry out. “Hey!” he shouted and the women looked up and ran away, leaving a bloody, battered, and beaten Lucy on the ground. And it was a disgusting ground.
Raymundo ran over to her as she tried to get up, blood pouring from her nose. She spit up some blood as well, staining the ground red. He knelt down next to her and helped her up. “Are you alright?” he asked, a light Spanish accent in his voice.
“Yeah, I’m-I’m good.”
He pulled out a rag from his pocket and handed it to her. “For your nose.” Lucy nodded and put the rag to her nose. After this assignment was over, she was going to find those girls and individually kick each one of their asses.
“Okay, not good.” Lucy said, trying to limit her words as she realized it hurt when she breathed. She probably had a broken rib or two. “Help.”
“Of course, I’ll take you back to my place.”
“Hospital?”
“Too expensive. I’m sorry, but I’m already in too much debt. But don’t worry, I can take care of you.”
“Where to?”
“Just around the corner.” And so Raymundo helped Lucy into his home and carefully laid her down on the couch. “I’ll be right back.”
Lucy looked around and took in the room. The furniture was dingy and old, the TV was big and boxy, probably from the early 2000’s, and the carpet was beige and dirty, just like the walls. She could clearly see the kitchen, since the house wasn’t that big. There was a sink, a small round wooden table and chairs, and a rusty propane stove and mini fridge from the 70’s. She watched as Raymundo pulled bandages and sewing equipment out of a first-aid box. Stitches? She thought, then felt her forehead. She looked at her fingers and saw blood. Ah, stitches.
Raymundo came back into the living room with the supplies, and whiskey. “Oo, is that for me?” Lucy asked, referring to the alcohol.
Raymundo chuckled. “You could say that.” He brushed back her dark brown braids from her face and poured a little bit of whiskey on the wound. Lucy winced.
“Shit!” she cried through gritted teeth.
“Sorry.” He dabbed the wound and then threaded the needle. He handed her the bottle of whiskey and she took a big swig of it. He sewed up her wound and then bandaged her chest tightly so her bones wouldn’t move. He grabbed some ice for her nose, which thankfully was not broken. Once he was finished, Raymundo packed up his things.
“Thanks,” Lucy said, and she meant it. Too bad she was going to have to kill him, he seemed like such a nice guy.
“De nada.”
“So, where’d you learn to be a doctor?” Raymundo chuckled.
“Back when I was a kid, I got into a lot of fights and mi abuela had to fix me up. When she died, I learned to do it myself. Why’d those girls beat you up?”
“Not sure, I tried to walk past them, but they got mad and beat me up.” It pained Lucy more than the broken ribs to say that she got beat up. She never gets beat up. She’s the beater not the beat-ee. But she loved money more than her pride, so, she said it.
“Those putas are no good. You must be new around here. I’m Raymundo Cárdenas.”
“Lucy Alburn.”
“Well, Lucy, do you have a place to stay? I know it may not be much, but its home.” Lucy’s eyes widened in awe. This man was poor, had never met her in his life, she could be a killer for all he knew, (she was, but that was beside the point) and he was going to let her stay in his home? She was going to kill this man, and he had no idea. She felt bad. But hey, a job was a job.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to stay.” That way, when I my ribs heal, I can put a bullet in your forehead.
And so, Lucy stayed. Raymundo took care of her every day when he got home from work. About a week went by and suddenly, he started asking questions.
“So,” he said at dinner one night, which consisted of him eating by the couch while Lucy took small bites. “Where are you from?” Lucy stayed quiet and Raymundo scoffed. “Come on, you been living in mi casa for a week now. I should know a little bit about my guest.”
“Trust me, you don’t wanna know.”
“Of course I do. We’re amigos now.”
“Why do you do that?” Raymundo frowned.
“Do what?”
“Say easy English words in Spanish?”
Raymundo shrugged. “Habit I guess.”
The two were quiet, eating their food, the only sound the scraping of forks on the plates. She looked at him, thinking about killing him with the fork. She could stab him in the neck, but she was at a weird angle. She’d have to roll on her side, and well, that just wasn’t happening. She sighed internally, since it would’ve hurt too much to actually do it. She continued to take small bites of her food.
“You never answered my question.”
“What? Oh right. I'm from Manhattan.”
“And what the hell are you doing in Brooklyn?”
“Well, I’m only 20, so I just moved out. And I have no money, so, here I am.” Technically, that wasn’t a lie. When she was 18, she moved out of her parents’ house to become a mercenary. She had nothing going for her, she had no talents, no skills, and her parents were never home, and when they were they practically ignored her. So she became a mercenary. It was a bit extreme, but it didn’t matter to Lucy. It was probably the only thing she was good at.
“Ah, I see. Well, I left here to travel for about ten years, and then I came back, since I had no money, and now I work at a factory making airplane parts. It’s a simple life, but it’s mine.” Lucy nodded. Raymundo didn’t leave until Lucy was done with her food. He took her plate and went to the kitchen. He started watching the dishes while whistling. She stared at the back of his head. If he hadn’t taken her knife, she could’ve thrown it at his neck. She began to wonder what her employer’s memo meant; “That man is not who he says he is.” Who else could he be?
Over the next few weeks, Lucy got better and soon was able to walk again. Finally, she was healed enough to kill her target. Although, she had grown fond of Raymundo. He was kind and caring, and not to bad looking either. It was the night before the attempt that almost made her change her mind.
“Hey Lucy,” said Raymundo. He was leaning in the doorway of his bedroom door frame. They had switched sleeping arrangements once Lucy was able to walk down the short hallway. Raymundo insisted that she sleep in his bed while he slept on the couch.
“Yeah?” she replied. She was lying on his bed just staring at the ceiling. She looked over at Raymundo.
“I was wondering, since it’s not dark yet, if you wanted to go for a walk.”
“Yeah, sure, the ceiling isn’t that interesting anyways.” Lucy got off the bed and put on her boots. She followed Raymundo into the streets and they walked side by side. It was the beginning of fall, so it was still pretty warm out. The few trees that were there were starting to turn various shades of red, gold, and red-orange. The sun was just about to set, casting its light on the city below, giving it an orange glow. The pair walked in silence, not really needing to speak.
“Thank you for letting me stay at your place,” Lucy said, saying her good-byes before she killed him tomorrow.
“It’s no hay problema. I know what it’s like to start over.”
“Really?”
“Si. I had to move from Manhatten to Brooklyn after my dad started drinking. He started drinking and beating me when mi abuela died when I was sixteen. Two years I put up with his bullshit. Once I was 18, I moved out and got a job at the factory making airplane parts.”
“How old are you now?”
“27.”
“Wow, so you’ve been working at the same job for ten years? I could never do that. I always jumped from job to job.”
“Well, there was a short period before I started working at the factory where I did some…independent work.”
“I see.” And so his secrets come out. “What kind of independent work?”
“Oh you know, a job here a job there.” Lucy knew she wasn’t going to get anything out of him, so she decided to drop it.
They were quiet again, just lazily walking around the block. Raymundo glanced down at Lucy’s hand and then looked forwards. But his hand cautiously touched hers, as if asking permission. She took his hand in hers, and the two looked at each other and smiled. Did Lucy really have to kill him? She didn’t want to, but the money was too good. So yeah, she did. She couldn’t let her feelings get in the way of her job.
***
It was time. While he was making breakfast, Lucy was up in the room, grabbing her knife from underneath her pillow. She held it backhand in front of her as she slowly and quietly crept down the carpeted hallway. She made it to the kitchen without being detected. She came up behind him, and just as she was about to slit his throat, he turned around, pointing Winchester a pistol at her forehead.
“Buenos dias, puta.”
“That’s not a very nice word, asshole.”
“Well it’s not nice to try and murder someone after you held hands the day before.”
“How did you see me? No one sees me.”
“I saw your reflection in the pot.”
“Clever.”
“I’m going to be nice since I like you, and give you the opportunity to leave my house and never come back.”
“Sorry, I can’t do that.” She smacked his gun hand away and twisted it behind his back. He cried out in pain, but then elbowed her in the stomach. She recoiled backwards, letting out an audible “Oof!” He went to shoot her in the head, but she grabbed a skillet and deflected the bullet. Using the skillet as weapon, she came at Raymundo and the duo duked it out in the kitchen, Lucy using her knife and house hold objects as weapons.
Eventually, he grabbed hold of her and shoved her into the living room, giving him enough distance to shoot her. Instead, he ran up to her and pushed her down on the couch, kissing her hard. Lucy didn’t resist. Instead, she kissed him back, wrapping her arms around him.
They broke apart, breathing hard. “You still gonna kill me?”
“Not if you tell me where the fuck you learned to fight.”
“During my “independent work” I was a mercenary. I used to work for the man who sent you to kill me.”
“Oh. Okay.” There was a moment of silence. “So you gonna kiss me or what?”