Nicotine – Chapter 2

          After sending yet another mug of coffee to Cassie, Liz starts to work. She took Blake’s folder and looked at Blake’s picture. Then, clutching a copy of the target’s binder, she closed her eyes and concentrated, biting her lip. Slowly, a golden glow surrounded her being and formed a smoky shape above her head.

          The smoky shape, still glowing, floated off and disappeared through the ceiling. Having done that, Liz opened her eyes and went to the coffee machine and made a mug for herself. As she leaned against the counter, savoring her coffee, she wondered if her doppelganger at her campus is doing the assignment that’s due on Tuesday. 

          Meanwhile, the smoky shape has split into two upon exiting the building and streaked off into two different directions. One of them went straight towards a pub downtown, where Blake is now sitting, drinking with his best friend. It materialized into an exact copy of Liz right on the stool beside Blake.

          She blinked her eyes, trying to adjust to the dim light. Blake looked beside him and saw her, sitting there, clutching at a binder and trying to figure out where she is. Upon realizing she’s in a pub, a look of horror crossed her face. 

          “Oh, crap!” she cried out, making a few heads turn to look at her. She looked around and saw a few scary-looking men leering at her. She clutched the binder even tightly and struggled to remain calm. It’s not just the men in the pub that’s scaring her, too. She’s underage, and if she’s ever caught here, it’s not going to look good on her records. As she took a few deep breaths that stank of stale beer, she heard Blake’s voice next to her.

          “Hey, aren’t you…” he narrowed his eyes, trying to remember. “You’re that girl from the newsstand at the corner, right?”

          “Huh?” startled, she turned around and saw him. Immediately she breathed a sigh of relief as she recognized him. She handed him the binder. “No, I’m from the office just now. Although I do work at the newsstand on weekends,”

          “Oh, great,” he said as he received the binder. “Not even my first day and work already,”

          “Oh, and Cassie said to study that and meet her at her office at 10 tomorrow,”

          “Great. Thanks,” he replied, putting the binder of the counter and taking another gulp of his drink. “You’d better get out of here before security comes. The bartender’s gone for a while now,”

          “Um, okay,” she said, and faded into nothing, leaving behind an empty stool. Almost immediately a burly man walked in from the back door, looked around and walked back out. She’s just in time. 

          “Hey, who’s that?” the guy next to Blake asked him. He’s a tall, lanky man with messy brown hair falling all around his head, making his head look like a mop. His eyes are small and sharp, and his voice gives the impression of someone who’s always stoned. “That your new girl? A little too young, ain’t her? I’d watch out for Chris Hansen if I were you, buddy,”

          “Just shut up and finish your drink, Luke,” Blake growled, taking another gulp. 

          At that Luke burst into laughter and patted him on the back. “Hey, relax, dude. Jeez, you’ve been such a ray of sunshine lately,” and then he noticed the binder on the table. It was plain brown card, with CLASSIFIED stamped on the front cover. “Hey, what’s that?”

          “That, my friend,” Blake pulled the binder closer to him and placed his forearm on it. “Is what we’re celebrating right now,”

          “Work already?” his small eyes widened with surprise. “Whoa. They don’t waste any time, do they?”

          “Apparently not. Guess I’ll be going straight home after this,”

          “Aw, man!” Luke said, clearly not approving of the idea. “What about the chicas down at the club? I need a wingman, dude!”

          “Luke, I’m sure that the chicas will be all over your wingman if he decided to come,” he winked at Luke. “You’ll have a better chance with them if you go without me,”

          “Sheesh, whatever,” Luke rolled his eyes and finished his drink. He knew what he’s saying is true, anyway. So far, he’s not had much luck with women. The last time he had this bright idea for a double date with his best friend, he ended up going home alone. Both ladies went with Blake. He knew he should’ve resented him for that, but he’s his best friend for what seems forever.

          Besides, given his nature, he’d find the humor in that and laugh it off anyway. He stood up and picked up his keys from the bar counter. “You need a ride home?”

          “Nah, I’ll walk,” Blake said as he finished his drink and stood up, holding the binder at his side. “I need to stop somewhere on the way. Take care, buddy,”

          “Yeah, you too,” Luke said as he walked out. On the way he winked at a lady sitting alone at a table, smoking. The lady rolled her eyes and looked away. He shrugged and went out. Blake, on the other hand, took the back door and went into the back alley. It’s a shortcut to his apartment.

          He took a right turn and entered a lane bordered by shops. He walked along the lane until he came to a store with Abbey’s written on the front door and walked in.

          “Hey, Blake,” the old lady at the front counter said as he walked in. She lifted a large paper bag filled with items on to the counter. “Here’s your groceries. We ran out of cheese, though,”

          “Thanks, Abbey,” he said as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. “How are you doing?”

          “Oh, fine, as always,” she turned to reach for a fly swatter on the desk behind her. “Those knees of mine are giving me a hard time, as usual,”

          “Well, you shouldn’t be working too hard,” he said as he paid the bill. She rang it up in the cash register. 

          “Oh well, the bills need to be paid anyway. And don’t you go on giving me the Social Security speech. I won’t take it,” she said as she swatted a fly on the counter. After flicking it away with the end of the swatter, she turned and looked closely at him. “You, young man, on the other hand, should take better care of yourself. I hate to nag at you, but all that cigarettes?” she motioned to the paper bag. “You won’t go past fifty at this rate,”

          “Abbey,” he looked back at her. “Thanks for reminding me. You’re so like my mother,”

          “And you’re so like my son,” she looked at him seriously. “And that’s why I keep reminding you. Because I care,”

          “Well, I care about you too,” he said. “That’s why I keep telling you to just take the money and rest,”

          At that she threw up her hands and put them at her hips. They looked at each other and smiled, and there was an understanding between them. “Well, so long Abbey,” he said as he turned and walked out. She was looking for something beneath the counter, but she raised her hand in a wave without looking.

          He walked out into the street, and saw the stars overhead over the glare of the street lights. As he walked home, thoughts ran over his mind, random thoughts of everything and anything at all. He barely saw the people that passed him. His feet knew the way well, and without even thinking about it, he found himself standing in front of his apartment building. 

          He entered his empty apartment and turned on the lights. It was a large space, bought with the money from his first job. However, it always bothered him about how empty it was. Oh, it was well-furnished, with the best furniture money can buy, and since money was never a problem, there’s always something new every week.

          But however much he tried to crowd the space with furniture and gadgets, it still seemed empty to him, and he don’t know why. He placed the binder on the coffee table, and the groceries on the kitchen table, and walked into his bedroom. 

          “I need a shower,” he said to himself out loud. His voice echoed back at him. He shrugged and undressed and walked into the large bathroom. He stared at himself in the large mirror set on the wall. Now here’s a familiar face. “You need a shave,” he said with a smile, and his reflection mimicked him. He sighed and took his shower.

          After a long, warm shower, he went out in his towel and sat on the couch in front of the TV and switched it on. After flipping through a few channels, he settled on an infomercial. The product is yet another useless kitchen appliance, a sort of vegetable blender. He turned the volume up and laid back, feet on the table.

          That’s when he saw the binder. After a bit of reflection, he reached for it and flipped it open and read leisurely. It described a cemetery on the west side of this town. On the next page is attached an envelope with pictures in it. It was pictures of the graveyard. It’s not a particularly scary-looking graveyard, but almost serene-looking.

          One picture caught his attention. It was of a stone angel, standing tall over a grave. The writings on the base are faded, and the stone itself is green with mold. The rest of the pages are just accounts of strange occurrences that happened recently. Overturned earth, broken headstones, and stray bones. Maybe it’s a grave robber.

          He closed the binder and put it on the table. Then he stood up, went to the kitchen and put away his groceries. When he came to the cigarettes, he bit his lip. Maybe Abbey’s right after all. Oh well. He shrugged and lit one, and took a deep draw. He blew out a cloud, and put his hands together. 

          The smoke condensed into a statue of a little girl in full size. She had long hair, reaching to her elbows, and her eyes were empty, staring into space. He sighed and turned away and the statue turned back to smoke. He flipped on a switch, and an exhaust fan sucked up the smoke. He glanced over at a picture on the refrigerator door. It was a picture of him and the little girl, only he was a little thinner and less bulky. He finished the cigarette looking at the picture, and making stone rings from the smoke absentmindedly.

          “I’m going to bed now,” he said aloud. The infomercial answered him: “Thank you, and good night,”

          He turned off the TV, poured himself a glass of milk and went to bed. He stared at the ceiling for a long time before finally falling asleep.

Nicotine - Chapter 1

The woman peered at him through gold-rimmed glasses, reaching for a folder that he had placed on her desk. She leafed through the papers inside, then took off her glasses and looked at him again. He didn’t seem to mind at the very least. It was an interview, after all. And first impressions are important anyway.

          So he kept both feet planted on the floor, clasped his hands behind his back, and stood there, staring straight ahead. It has been a long day of failures coming in and going back out again, and she’s looking more than a little messed up. A lock of golden hair hung across her face, escaped from the tight bun she kept in place with hairpins at the back of her head. Rings are beginning to form under her otherwise bright eyes, and lines of strain crossed her forehead as she squinted down at the folder in her hands.

          The small room was dimly lit, with hints of lingering smoke making the room even gloomier. A plastic potted plant stood wearily in the corner, as if trying to wilt, but without success. His eyes stealthily scanned the room, noting details down, trying to figure out what kind of person his future employee will be. A half-filled ashtray rests slightly to the left of her desktop. A smoker. An empty coffee mug, with brown stains down the right side of the handle. A lefty. No wedding ring. Shirt sleeves rolled back.

          She, on the other hand, is totally absorbed in the contents of the folder, leafing through it rapidly, giving an occasional nod and a pleased hum. Finally, she carefully rearranged the sheets and placed it in front of her. Then, she lighted a cigarette, took a deep puff and leaned back in her office chair, crossing her legs as he looked at him again.

          He’s not the tallest man she’s ever saw, but he does seem to fill the small area with his presence. Broad shoulders, and a thick neck. He gave the impression of being sturdy. This man kept his dark hair short and trimmed, and his clean-shaven face bears the hint of a beard. His stance is good, and he kept his facial expressions under control.

“So,” she finally spoke. “Blake Freeman, right?”

          “Yes, ma’am,”

          “You have got an impressive resume, there. In fact,” she paused and took another puff. “So impressive that I’m beginning to wonder. Why on earth would you apply for a job like this?”

          “I have my own reasons, ma’am.”

          She sighed and flicked the ash from her cigarette into the ashtray. “I suppose you do. However,” she took another puff. “I noticed that there was no mention of your expertise in there. Oh sure, you specialize in eliminating targets and acquiring items, that I know, but how? You need to sell yourself more. This is an interview, you know,”

          Without speaking, Blake stepped forward and subtly took the half-smoked cigarette from her fingers. “If you please, ma’am,” he said when a look of annoyance crossed her face. She waved her hand in dismissal. Her face hinted interest, and a little awe at his daring. Stepping back, he took a deep draw from the cigarette and released a huge cloud of thick smoke. She raised an eyebrow. 

          “That’s not enough. A smokescreen? I’ve seen better,”

          “Oh, you haven’t seen better,” he replied as he assumed a stance, as if he’s holding a sword with both hands. To her amazement, the thick smoke swirled and condensed into a sword in his hands. The blade glinted in the dim light, and he twirled it a few times with one hand and stabbed the floor with it. Resting his weight on the sword, he said, nonchalantly, “And that’s how I got past airport security,”

           She was just staring, wide-eyed and wide-mouthed at him. Suddenly she leaned forward and flipped back to the first page of the folder. “Wait a second. It says here that you’re only 33. How on earth did you master that kind of skill?” she looked at him, waiting for an answer. 

          He shrugged, and returned the now stubby cigarette to her. “That’s for me to know,” he pulled the sword out of the concrete floor. It left a hole in the gray carpet. He ran his finger down the length of the blade, and the sword dematerialized back into smoke and disappeared into thin air. “And for you to find out,” He looked at her and gave her a mysterious smile.

          “Oh, well,” she sighed again. “Looks like you’ve got the job. I’m Hayley. Cassandra Hayley,” she held out her hand, and he took it. “Thanks, boss,” he said as he shook hands with her. “When can I start?”

          “Will tomorrow be okay?”

          “Tomorrow’s great. See you tomorrow,” he said as he turned and opened the door, letting fresh air waft in. There was a smile on his face as he walked out of the building and into the streets. Tomorrow, he will be one step closer towards his objective.

          After Blake left, Cassandra leaned back in her chair and unconsciously reached for her coffee mug. Upon realizing it was empty, she set it back and sighed. “Liz!” she screeched. Almost immediately the door opened and in walked a teenage girl, with the same hair and eyes as Cassandra. She was holding a binder in her hands, and her golden curls tumbled messily about her head.

          “Yes, Cassie?” she said, a little timidly. “Did I do something wrong?”

          “What? No, no, no, sweetie,” she said, panicking a little. “I just needed a refill on this coffee,” she held out her mug. 

          At that Liz smiled and took the mug. “Well, you don’t have to sound like you’re mad at me, Cassie. I’ll get whatever you want,” she chirped as she literally skipped out of the door, forgetting to close it behind her. Cassandra put her face in her palms as she rested her head on her desk. 

          Elizabeth was her little sister, and she’s agreed to give her a part-time job as her personal assistant to cover for her college expenses. She’s a little unstable at times, but she can be in a few places at once, which made her great at office work. Plus, she does make a great cup of coffee. 

          She straightened up again and noticed Blake’s folder on the table. She picked it up and placed it in her desk drawer, then leaned back in her chair again, hands clasped on her belly as she stared at the ceiling. Blake does seem to have a lot of secrets to him, but he seems nice enough. And he does have that aura of professionalism, and he doesn’t talk much. She likes that in a man. Maybe she won’t have to hold interviews again for a long time. She smiled at the thought.

          Liz came in with a steaming mug, still clutching a binder in her arms. She caught Cassie smiling to herself. She set down the mug on the desk and started to giggle. That startled Cassie. For some reason, she started to blush. Getting caught off guard like that, by her little sister… That’s not very good. 

          “What are you giggling at?” she scowled as she reached for the mug and took a cautious sip. Not too hot, but not cold either. Just warm enough to taste good. She sighed in satisfaction and lost her scowl.

          “Nothing. You’re smiling,” she said, starting to giggle again. “I haven’t seen you smile like that since Randy –”

          “Whoa. Stop talking,” she cut her short. ‘Randy’ was not the name she’d like to be reminded of. The unemployed boyfriend she put up with until he dumped her. “What’s that binder you’re carrying around, anyway?”

          “Oh, this?” Liz started, disoriented by the sudden change in topic. “Well, let’s see… Oh, it’s the next target. I kinda forgot to give this to you. Eh heh heh heh,”

          Cassie sighed and rubbed her temples. “You’ve been carrying this binder all over town, made coffee and answered phones but forgot all about it? I swear, if it wasn’t because you were my sister…”

          They looked at each other for a moment and smiled. Liz placed the binder on the table and stepped back and waited. Cassie flipped through the folder for a moment and mm-hmmed. 

          “Have this delivered to the man who I just hired and a copy to, um, the guy with the… the…” her brows creased in concentration, trying to recall either a name or a feature.

          “The what?”

          “You know, that guy… The one who can, uh, can make, um…”

          “Chester? The guy with the strange tattoo on his neck?”

          “Yeah! That’s the one!” she settled back and let out a long whoosh of air. She must be getting old and senile. “You know, Liz, keep this up and maybe I’ll let you take over my company,”

          “What? No way!” she stuck her chin out. Her face wore an almost horrified look. “I want to make a shelter for poor homeless kittens! I don’t want to run your company!”  

          “Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” Cassie rolled her eyes. “Anyway, send a copy to both of them and tell them both to meet me here at –” she glanced at the organizer on the wall. “– 10 in the morning tomorrow.”

          “Okay, Cassie. Anything else?”

          Cassie chugged down the remaining coffee and held out her mug. “Yeah. More coffee,”