ROMANCE KILLER Ch: 1
Chapter One: Business
Rating: R-13+
CHAPTER ONE: BUSINESS
On a high-rise rooftop, a person in a black baseball cap and a long-sleeved jacket is at the edge. They are in a well-obstructed position. They chose this spot and rooftop because it is difficult to see them from afar.
The figure is holding a powerful sniper rifle looking through a scope. They are in a seated position with their ankles crossed. Their elbows are positioned on their knees.
"People have a negative view of assassins. They picture them as ruthless mercenaries who will kill anyone for coin. I can’t argue with this point. However, most of the people who facilitate our services are usually asking us to kill people who are not the best representatives of humankind. Don’t believe me, ask yourself how many senators, heads of state, or executives are killed by snipers, or in questionable circumstances. It doesn’t happen much.
We kill criminals, people you don’t care about. They are the outsiders, the bad guys to your suburban comfortable society. I’ve been hired to kill mob bosses, cartel leaders, employed by families for revenge against pedophiles, and women to kill their rapists. Some might think we deserve medals, but I prefer zeros in my bank accounts."
Through the scope of their weapon, they see a large boardroom table with men of irreparable guise sitting at it. At the head of the table is an obese older man in a white suit sitting down. The other men show him respect. Some don’t seem to be happy to do so or be there.
"Speaking of… the fat slob has finally arrived. This target is one of the most disgusting individuals I’ve ever seen at the end of a scope. His appearance isn’t that appealing either."
Through the scope of their weapon, they pan over, seeing a young thin man seated at the table.
"And there is the client. Criminals hire us when they want to keep things quiet. I don’t usually use the sniper rifle for that reason. It’s a tactic of last resort. When I can’t get close to my target. I think it’s beneath me. It’s a sign of failure but the client doesn’t care as long as it can’t be traced back to him. And snipers can always be blamed on the American Special Forces, Intelligence agencies, or something in the same vane."
Through the scope of their weapon, they pan back on the obese man. The target is aimed at the head between the temple and the ear. The obese man is shot. He falls over. The men jump up from the table. They look out the windows searching for where the shot came from. They scream and yell they have spotted someone or at least know what roof the shot has come from.
They disassemble the rifle. They take the parts placing them in a knapsack. Then throw it into a ventilation system, closing it. They head to the stairwell roof access.
"In my profession, there aren’t many women. In fact, no one ever suspects women. This is why female serial killers can kill far more than men. No one ever knows they are doing the killings. Psychologists will tell you it’s because women kill with a purpose while men will kill for ego or sexual release, mostly sex."
They walk down a few flights of stairs. Then they walk into a hallway.
"I’ve never killed for my pleasure. That’s what makes me more dangerous. Those who kill for pleasure… plan less… react more."
They go into a janitor’s closet. They take off their cap. This lets her long hair fall. She begins to change from her all-black clothes. She pulls out a duffle bag hidden behind some boxes. She takes out new clothes from the bag. She changes from her black nondescript clothing to more luxurious chic garments. She walks out making her way to the elevator.
"Because they never suspect women, I give them what they want. A young man wearing all black, very menacing. They may watch too many films. I don’t know but it works."
The elevator opens to the lobby. Men in black suits are covering the hall. She walks out of the elevator in a white suit, a black shirt underneath, a skirt, and heels. It's expensive high-fashion clothing. One of the men passes her.
"They never suspect the woman."
She smiles. She walks outside the hotel.
"Can I get you a cab, miss," asks the Doorman?
"Thank you," answers R.K.
The doorman walks to the curb hailing a cab. A cab comes up quickly. She hands him a tip and then gets into the vehicle. The doorman looks at the amount smiling wide.
Inside, R.K. sits in the back of the cab, triumphant.
"I love my job," continues R.K.
In an expensive high-rise apartment living room, R.K. is relaxing in a robe lying on the couch, looking at the newspaper while drinking a latte.
"I do love my work, but it is a field with much competition; many will take a reduction in pay, which hurts prospects. People willing to pay for shabby work don't appreciate talent. And with the economy the way it is most criminals settle disputes in-house. They rather make it bloody, and messy to send a message. In times like these they want the kills to be tied to them."
She places the paper down. She picks up a scheduling book.
"It appears I will have to rely on the second career path for a while."
She thumbs through the pages of the book. She sits up realizing.
"I have no clients. I guess this means I have to venture out and collect some. I can’t lie around here forever living off old jobs… well, I can, but it would get boring eventually."
She gets up dropping her robe to get dressed.
R.K. enters a club walking through a crowd of people. The bar is noisy and loud.
"This isn’t me. I don’t go to places of this sort for my recreational needs. I prefer black-tie events. Of course, usually when I’m at those, I’m working. But these places are far better for getting a quick job."
She walks up to the bar taking a seat. She sits next to an older gentleman in a tan suit. He has his top buttons undone a little sloppy in appearance. She raises her hand to order a drink from the bartender. When the bartender sees her he smiles.
"What can I get you," asks the bartender?
"A Long Island ice tea," says R.K.
"You got it," he replies.
He quickly moves to make her drink.
"That’s not the hip drink of the moment. You’re a little behind," says Salus.
"Yes well, it’s what I like. If they make it right. Of course, no one ever does," says R.K.
"Go to a hundred bars, get a hundred different drinks," says Salus.
"If anyone would know, it would be you, Salus," says R.K.
"Hey, ouch that hurts. It’s what I like about drinking. How can you go to so many bars and drink the same things people ask? They don’t get it’s never the same, that’s what makes it fun," says Salus.
She smiles. He laughs out loud.
"Give me a hug," continues Salus.
She goes to hug him.
"It’s been too long. Where have you been," asks Salus?
"Work," says R.K.
She looks over her shoulder. She sees four women sitting at a table one of them seems intoxicated and a little distraught.
"Work? What kind of work," asks Salus?
She looks at him sternly with a look that says don’t ask me because you know.
"I see, so you're here to find some other work," asks Salus?
"It’s a slow period," says R.K.
"All around," replies Salus.
The bartender places down her drink. He smiles. He is attracted to her.
"Thank you," says R.K.
The bartender waits.
"It’s good," says R.K.
With a large smile, the bartender nods and winks at her. He goes down to the other end of the bar to serve more customers.
"How is it really," says Salus.
"Scale of one to ten… I’ll give it a five," says R.K.
Salus laughs again and then takes more of his drink, it’s harder liquor. One of the women from the table walks up to them. She is in her late twenties and dressed in professional clothing. She stands next to R.K. attempting to get the bartender's attention, but not successfully. R.K. looks at her sternly. It makes the woman feel nervous.
"You need drinks," says R.K.
"Um, yeah," says Commie.
R.K. waves over the bartender that made her drink. When the bartender comes over she points at Commie. The bartender takes her order. R.K. turns back to Salus.
Then, a man to Commie’s left turns around when she bumps him, attempting to move away from R.K. R.K. looks away but keeps her attention on Commie. The guy turns, smiling at Commie, looking her up and down. The look on her face says she is uninterested in him but he doesn’t seem to notice this.
"Hi, sexy. How would you like to take a ride with me, in my Bentley, back to my place," asks an intoxicated guy at the bar.
"She’s not interested," answers R.K for Commie.
He looks at R.K. with anger.
"Who asked you," asks a guy at the bar?
"Look at her body language. She is completely unattracted to you," says R.K.
"Whatever. Must be lesbians," says a guy at the bar.
He turns away with a look of annoyance.
"Thank you," says Commie quietly.
R.K. nods to her then turns back to Salus.
"That was easy," says Salus.
"This may be a big one but nothing certain yet," replies R.K.
"Uh huh," says Salus not believing her.
Salus consumes more of his liquor. Commie gets her drinks. She walks away taking them back to the table. R.K. continues to take notice of them. At the table, Commie distributes the drinks to her friends, all but a crying woman in her late twenties. She has had too much to drink.
"Where is my drink," asks Ranee slurring?
"You’ve had enough," says Tiffany.
Ranee tries to grab Tiffany’s drink. Tiffany is in her late twenties. She is professionally dressed with shoulder-length hair. She pushes the intoxicated woman's hand away.
"I thought we came here so I can forget my troubles and have some fun," says Ranee slurring her words.
"I think you’ve had enough fun for the night. You’ve already drank most of our drinks and your own. After this round, I think we should end the night ladies," says Karina.
"I think we should too," says Commie.
"Noooo! I want… I want to dance some more," says Ranee.
Tiffany laughs.
"You can barely stand. I’m not carrying you on the dance floor. Just so you can throw up on my Hermes shoes," says Tiffany.
"I won't throw up," says Ranee.
"That is what all drunks say before they give you their tossed surprise. Uh uh, I had to wait months for these things, I’m not throwing them away tonight," says Tiffany.
Some guys walk past the table.
"Hi sexy," says Ranee.
The guys laugh and wave to her but keep walking.
"For goodness sake, Ranee, show some class," says Karina.
"I need to find a new sexy guy after being with Steve, that asshole," says Ranee.
"That asshole," says Tiffany in solidarity.
"Don’t call him an asshole. He loved me more than any other guy ever has," says Ranee.
"That guy only knows how to love his muscles," says Commie.
"I know, that asshole," says Ranee.
Tiffany shakes her head.
"Forget about him. He was a loser anyways," says Tiffany.
Karina looks at Tiffany sternly.
"Don’t give me that look. He is," says Tiffany.
"Unlike the winners, you have been known to associate with," says Karina.
"Hey, I keep a group of men on a short leash. You have to make them think they will get the goods and they give you everything, like these shoes. What did she get out of that relationship," asks Tiffany?
"I don’t know," cries out Ranee!
Tiffany shakes her head again. Karina tries to console her with one hand as she drinks with the other.
R.K. walks up to the table. She stands in confident stature looking them over. They look at her confused.
"Can we help you," asks Tiffany?
R.K. pulls out her cards. She places down four, for each woman. Karina takes one card and reads it out loud.
"ROMANCE KILLER, relationship manager. A relationship coach? Is this serious," asks Karina?
"Cheesy, I know, but how else does one advertise such a business," says R.K.
"Yeah, I don’t need a relationship coach," says Tiffany.
"Yeah, I don’t need a relat..ti..on… thingie," says Ranee.
"What makes you think we need this? How do you know we aren’t in happy successful relationships," asks Commie?
R.K. looks at Ranee.
"Ok but that doesn’t mean she needs a coach," says Commie.
"Yeah, he’s just an asshole," says Ranee.
"When someone is happy one can read it on them. They may have a rough period or a bad day, but if life is good, you can see it on their face in their body language. I don’t see happiness in any of you," says R.K.
"Well, I’m in a happy relationship. So your radar is off," says Commie
"Are you," asks R.K.?
Commie is surprised by the confrontational question. She finds herself unable to answer.
"I’m fine, thank you very much," says Tiffany.
"Yes, I’m certain you all are. I’ll be hearing from you soon," says R.K.
"No you won’t," blurts Tiffany.
"Yeah, you won’t," says Ranee slurring.
R.K. walks away. She goes back to the bar where Salus has saved her seat.
"That was strange. Was she a dominatrix? Do you think that is their way of hitting on people," asks Tiffany?
They leave the cards. Karina places the one she picked up back on the table.
"I don’t feel too good," says Ranee.
"And those are the keywords that will end the night. Time to go," says Karina.
Commie gets up. As she does she discreetly picks up the card R.K. left her. The others don’t see, they are focused on Ranee. Karina helps Ranee to stand. Ranee fights her. She falls back against the table. Her hand lands on one of the cards R.K. left. As she composes herself Karina grabs and places a card into her purse. As soon as Ranee stands, she fights harder, only to fall.
Tiffany shakes her head in disapproval. As Tiffany bends over to grab her with the help of Commie and Karina she grabs the remaining cards. Commie and Karina walk towards the exit with Ranee. Tiffany stands, looking at the two cards, then quickly puts them away. She hurries to catch up.