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,”