KILLSHOT // [H.S]

002. CHEESE

002. CHEESE 

If Rory could only have one item on her list of things she would never allow herself to do, it would be fearing a man who was drunk off a power trip. Or anyone, for that matter. 

Anyone else would find him intimidating - maybe even scary. But not her. She found it humorous whenever she spotted one of his friends watching her. Cheese - the nickname she gave him while making dinner one night and realizing she didn't know his real name - would always park his car across the street from her apartment or her place of work. He probably thought he was clever; a true criminal hiding in plain sight at night, protected by his tinted windows.

Rory took a puff from her cigarette, leaning against the steel railing of her balcony. The car was parked across the street, just like always. Her mind wondered about what the point of all their stalking was - after all, they only followed her to two locations. Work and home. Did they not care about her trips to the grocery store? Inconsiderate criminals. They didn't even care to know that she was eating a well-balanced diet.

She knew they underestimated her. All men did. When they looked at her, all they saw was a pretty face. It didn't matter how many times she could outsmart them and prove that she was worth more than a trophy on someone else's arm. They would still look at her the same.

That didn't matter to Rory. Instead of viewing it as an obstacle, she viewed it as a strength. She didn't need to prove her worth to any man. Their ultimate stupidity allowed her to stay ten steps ahead.

Men were easy to fool. And men who thought they were the smartest in the room were always easier. And the dumbest. 

"Please tell me you're fucking coming out tonight," Benny whined. "Amber is driving me fucking insane. After this shift is done, I'll need a full bottle of vodka and, like, ten lines all to myself."

"Aw, poor boy," she cooed, "You know she's only going to get a hundred times worse when she finally fucks Johnny."

Johnny, the manager at Sal's and - of course - the owner's son was the walking definition of nepotism at its finest. He tried to sleep with every female he employed with the promise of a promotion. However, much to his disappointment, most girls were smart and turned him down, knowing they made far more money flirting with customers. Besides, there weren't enough showers in the world that would scrub off the feeling of his grimy hands on your body in exchange for a slightly higher wage and having to spend more time than necessary with him.

Rory could hear the flicker of his lighter from the other end of the call.

"You think she's gonna do it?"

"It's only a matter of time." She tapped the end of her smoke, letting the ash fall into the tray. "She's power hungry. I bet she orgasms to the thought of being in control over all our shifts. I can picture someone like her craving that feeling of control. Even if that's only at our shitty bar."

Benny let out an annoyed sigh. "I'm going to fucking quit."

"You say that every week."

"I know, I know," his voice was muffled by what she assumed was his cigarette between his lips. "Anyway, you'll come out and get fucked up with me after I'm done my shift, right?"

"Call me after and I'll see. I have something I need to do first," Rory said, eyeing the SUV.

After a quick goodbye, she hung up the phone and resumed her attention back on her target.

Poor Cheese. He had to be bored sitting in that car. His dedication to the horrible plan they were executing was at least - the slightest - admirable. Every single time she looked outside her apartment window or left the bar, his car was there. Watching. Waiting. But never making a move. How uneventful.