Sugar & Salt ✩ Michael Jackson

Five: Hotshot Almost Makes Me Die

So, Hotshot left me for dead.

Alright, slight exaggeration. Let me just explain to you what exactly Agent Curly Head got my ass into. So, I'll leave right off after Whatever-His-Real-Name-Is yanked me out of the way in time before three silver bullets impaled the white dry wall I was in front of. My eyes looked at him incredulously, disregarding the smart remark that flew straight out of his tinted dainty lips.

"What in the bloody hell was that?!" I exclaimed, shocked beyond comprehension.

"Now that that's over, we need to go. Now." He replied, taking ahold of my hand and leading me down the hall. In my Mary Janes, I rushingly clicked and clacked against the lamented tiles until he made a right at the end and led us outside the breezy twilight.

"Will you stop?! These heels aren't for running!" I said, halting and ripping my hand from his. "Tell me what in the hell is going on here."

He deeply signed and turned around. "Aliana, what did I just say?"

"Some story time bullshit."

He narrowed his eyes. "Do you think I'd lay out an entire false story for you just for kicks? Especially in a serious situation? What do you want me to say? "I'm a murderer and I want you to come help me smuggle drugs into New Mexico."

"Well, it would make more sense than this."

He scoffed. "Well, sorry to burst your bubble, Sunshine, but that's not the case. Trust me or not, you need to come with me if you plan on waking up the next day. I have no intention of hurting you and I would think by now, you would see that."

"You blew up my job and made me lose hours! That is hurting me! Do you think Mary Janes are cheap nowadays?!"

"For God's sake, I paid for the hours you missed times by four!" He exclaimed in frustration. "Aliana, I am trying to save your life for the one hundredth time, which you've yet to thank me for."

"Thank you?! Thank you for what?! For stalking me, ruining the diner twice, stabbing customers, and giving me emotional damages?! God, you don't get it, do you? Every time you show, you bring along hell and its friends! You want to save my life? Then do what you do best and disappear, except for good. Get the hell out of my life and don't come back."

"So, I'll take that as a "Thank you, Michael, for your couragous effort to save me time and time again with your incredible high skill that I have yet to fully appreciate." He said, sourly. "Is there anything else you'd like to say to insult my career or would you like to actually not get a bullet pierce through your skin and follow me?"

My mouth snapped shut, instant guilt filling inside of me. For once, Hotshot's demeanor wasn't his usual flirtatious happy-go-lucky. Mister Tall, Dark, and Handsome-that would never pass a chance to be affectionate and cheeky-was gone in this moment, replaced with a rather serious and irritated man. Even when he was in pain, he'd find the energy to maintain such a striking personality of those sorts, but not this time. What was the sudden change? Was his mind too busy to exert the characteristics that created the man he was, or did I hit a nerve with my lashing words?

"Suit yourself, then." He scoffed, walking off.

He walked down the long narrow pathway, not giving a single glance back. Before I could grasp what was happening, his silhouette made a turn and disappeared into the shadows. My face fell. What had just happened? Did he really do what I asked of him; leave? No, that didn't fit his agenda. But that's what he did. And for some reason, I felt incredibly unsafe compared to when he was by my side.

Wind blew through the dark alley, my hair flowing through the hair and apron beginning to sway. Without him here, it was quiet. Very quiet, in fact. I didn't know what it was that made me feel like I was in danger, but I couldn't shake the feeling. I eyed the way he headed, waiting for him to come back. He was going to come back, right? He wouldn't have leave me here. Would he?

There was a strong grip wrapped around my neck, knocking the literal breath from me. I heavily gasped, my lungs feeling as if they shriveled intensely. My notepad fell out of my apron as I was dragged backwards, a body being pressed against my back. Anxiety rose from my stomach to every inch of my body, making me shrill. My Mary Janes scrapped against the ground just before I started kicking in protest and tried to remove their hands. The pressure intensified, making it hard to retaliate or scream once more.

But suddenly, their hold loosened from my neck and their body was now gone. I placed my hand where I was choked, trying to breathe again, whipping my body around to see what caused them to stop. There laid an unfamilar suited man on the ground, wheezing desperately for oxygen just as I was, and Hotshot walking towards me with a smile on his face.

"You didn't think I'd actually leave you, did you, Sugar?" He slyly smiled. "Let's get out of here."