Killer || m.g.c

0.9

Bonnie Jackson.

We were outside a house. Well, not a house as in a home, but a house bought to be used for business. It's bricks were a dull grey and the roof a weird pinky red colour. A sign stuck to the window at the front, the only one at the front of the house, said massages with a price I couldn't quite see in the dark.

Michael walked ahead of me, hands in his pockets, which I've noticed is something he does a lot when he's upset. Not that he has a right to be.

It's his fault that all of this is happening. Yeah, he's helping me keep away from the bad guys, but he's the one who introduced me to them. Introduced probably wasn't the right word, it wasn't exactly an introduction. Never the less, he's the reason they're after me.

I hastily followed him inside, realising I'd zoned out and was trailing quite a far ways behind him. By the time he walked up the brick path way and steps and knocked on the door, I was beside him.

A man answered the door. He wore some dirty white singlet and blue pyjama parts, his hair oily, black and slicked back. He had stubble too and I assumed he was in his late forties.

"Yes?" He greeted, very unamused by Michael and I being there. I noticed he had a slight accent, but I couldn't pick it.

"I'm here for Johnny."

"Johnny ain't here." The man said, slightly puffing out his chest as if to intimidate.

"Don't shit me, mate. Called twenty minutes ago, he knows I'm coming." Michael said roughly. The man glanced at him from head to two, giving a slight nod and letting him in. I followed behind solemnly, trying to avoid the man's stalking gaze.

Walking in to the first room surprised me. Almost twenty men sat around, only one or two without a drink of some sort in their hands. Some had cigarettes, too, but the strong aroma told me it was not tobacco.

I frowned as I continued behind Michael like a lost puppy. Men winked and looked at me as if I were a piece of meat, some even pinching my ass as they walked past, chuckling to their mates after doing so. I hated it. It smelt of cigarettes, beer and broken dreams.

I was taken to a back room by Michael and sat beside him at a desk. The door was closed by someone I didn't notice was there. Michael avoided my nervous glances.

A few minutes passed before a man walked in, dressed quite smart compared to the animals outside.

"Ah! Mikey, my main man. What can I do for you this fine evening?" He said, shaking Michael's hand. Then his eyes turned to me. "And who is this beautiful red head you've given me the pleasure of meeting?" He said, taking my hand and holding eye contact as he kissed my hand. Michael shuffled in his chair uneasily.

"We've got a problem. Travis' caught on, threaten me and my girl here." He said, jutting his thumb out towards me. The man, who I assumed was Johnny, listened as Michael spoke but kept his eyes on me. I couldn't help but blush at his intense glare. I made eye contact and he smiled, leaning back as he turned to Michael.

"I told you I stopped putting up with Travis' bull a while ago. Dumped his sorry ass, definitely not regretting it. Heard from a couple friends that he was a snitch." Johnny said cooly, pulling a cigarette carton from his pocket. He opened it and offered one to Michael - who declined - then to me. I shook my head and he smirked.

"C'mon princess, certainly you've got bigger things on your mind than worrying about a lil' old cancer stick." I bit my lip, staring at the box he offered. Smoking helps people with stress, and I'm definitely stressed. What's the worst it could do? I nodded slowly and Johnny smiled. I went to take one but he pulled it away, closing it then offering it again. "Take the carton, I got plenty more." I took it a mumbled a small 'thank you'. I smirked when I saw Michael rolling his eyes.