Seeking a new identity
How's work going?" asked Amanda as she poured the tea and sat me down, pouring me the outrageous amount of cookies she had piled on a plate. The buttery, crumbly cookie melted in my mouth. Damn, she made great cookies.
"It's the same old same old. Nothing ever changes." Amanda didn't know what I did for a living, she thought I worked in some mundane office. Would she let me into her house and give me cookies if she knew I made my living tracking, maiming and often killing people? Probably not.
"What about your co-workers - no weddings or babies to fill an old lady's heart with joy?" She loved hearing about life. Other than going to the local store for food, she spent most of her time secluded within the four walls of her home. I couldn't imagine my life reduced to seeing no one, with television as my only companion.
"Actually, there was a commitment."
"Oh, how nice!" Amanda seemed delighted, and I didn't have the heart to tell her that the bride was terrified of her future husband, and rightly so.
"Do you think it's necessary to be in love to have a good marriage?" Political and economic marriages were nothing new. Maybe Amelia could find some happiness with William . Somehow.
"You need love to have a happy marriage. Life limps along, whether you're happy or sad, but love makes everything better. It fills in all the cracks that will swallow you up if you're miserable."
I poured myself another golden square of delight as I pondered his words. The dark cracks in Amelia's marriage would be great chasms that would swallow the soul. An ache came over me as I thought of her with William , at home, surrounded by fear instead of happiness. During the years I had been involved with her brothers, I had watched her from afar. Small, curvaceous and with a twinkle in her eye that flared every time she got an idea in her head. A spoiled mob princess, no doubt. I had often dreamed of holding her hand when her mouth was going, imagined her looking down at me from her knees, imagined her....
I cleared my throat. Sitting in Amanda's kitchen was not the place for such ideas. Amelia had always been far, far above me. She wasn't the kind of woman who would dream of being with someone like me. No, she chose men of her social standing, the wealthy, the undamaged children of even wealthier men and women. The others had never known struggle, had never felt the hunger or despair of being unwanted. Or, if they were unwanted, they had money to drown their sorrows in champagne while sunbathing on some beach. A million miles away from my life.
Amanda filled me in on everything that was going on in her soap operas while I sipped my tea, my head full of images of Amelia's pale face, her eyes red-rimmed and downcast. A far cry from her usual vivacity. It was not my place to get involved. It was never my place.
An hour later, after fixing the lights and a few other things at Amanda's house, I entered my house. The door closed with a click as I leaned against it.
Another night alone.
I wasn't ready to face the cold bed that awaited me. With a sigh, I grabbed my gym bag. Exhaustion used to make sleep swallow me faster.
AMELIA
Mery kept within sight of my father's men, making sure they stayed close to the clothing store where they thought the two of us were. After quickly changing my clothes and putting on a blonde wig over my dark hair, I walked out of the store and past them with my stomach in my mouth.
I needed it to work.
My nerves only calmed as I made my way down the streets, slipping into the alley, where Emes Falú was operating, a few minutes later. The stench of urine hit my nose as I made my way down the alley, carefully avoiding trash, cigarette butts and God knew what else. My knuckles burned as I pounded hard on the door, feeling like I didn't belong anywhere.
After a few moments, the door swung wide open and a bearded, scruffy face appeared.
"Well, well. If it isn't Amelia Kensington . I thought you would no longer need my services. Old enough not to have to sneak into bars with a fake ID."
"May I come in?" not that I really wanted to. If his house was anything like the alley.
He raised an eyebrow skeptically as he looked me up and down, wig already tucked in his bag as soon as I got out of the minions' sight. I guess so.
The door opened and I took one last look at the bustling street at the back of the alley. I had gone my whole life without finding myself in a dangerous situation, and there was always someone nearby, armed and ready to leap to my defense at my father's command. I twisted my fingers in my collar as I walked through the door, hoping it wasn't a scoundrel. My mother's wedding ring slipped around the chain as I fingered it, and my eyes widened as I looked at Emes Falú's house . It contrasted with the urine-soaked alley outside. Cold blue lights emanated behind the many screens he had along the back wall, which he would switch to a screen saver at the touch of a keyboard, hiding whatever nefarious thing he was working on.
I licked my lips as my mouth took on a Sahara-like level of water, observing the neat office with the dark leather couches along one side. It even had a water cooler.
"You look like you expect to walk into a crack den," said Emes , his eyes crinkling in amusement.
" I don't sell fake IDs anymore."
"I'm sorry," I said, cheeks flushed. It's just that I never...