Killers have feelings 2

The "tall man"

     Today, there is someone new who wants to talk to me. Not just the vult-- I mean, not just the reporters.

I'm a little unsure, though I don't think I have much of a choice in the matter. After dad turned the sprinklers on outside, all of the pests with their papers decided to leave. Despite the fact that I think all their notes on me must now be ruined - and they will likely be after me much harder now - I have to admit..the looks on their faces..were priceless. 

     About an hour or two past the time when our first unwanted visitors left our lawn, mom called me downstairs to meet the people who had come to our door next. There were three of them. By the time I got downstairs, mom had let them inside and had them sit down on one of the couches in our living room. That would be why I am now sitting across from three people I have never seen before, skeptical beyond all belief; and maybe also... slightly attracted to the two younger ones who keep looking over at me.

The tallest one is sitting in the middle. His face is hidden from view, and he has yet to say a word since I came in the room. I can't help the feeling I get that something isn't right here..though maybe that's just me.

     "We have heard of your little..media problem." The boy on the left starts, after clearing his throat. "It has come to our attention that you may be in need of our services.. if you are interested. Our boss here can give them something else to focus on, to help keep you out of the spotlight. If you want." He finishes, seeming to be watching me to see what my reaction will be. His "boss" leans down, and I assume tells him something, because next he adds "Provided you don't ask us any questions. It's better that you don't know how we operate." Don't know how they operate....Who has my mother let into our house..? The Mob?

As I think it over, I find myself staring at my lap. Mom is looking at me, waiting as well. I almost get the feeling again..that I don't exactly have a choice in whether or not these strangers stay in our home.

     A slow exhale escapes my lips, as I finally look up again. The one question I do have, is one I hope they will answer. Otherwise, I'm going to think of them as "Thing One" and "Thing Two." Or "Tweedle-Dee" and "Tweedle-Dum." Depending on if they are as stupid as I feel like I am for agreeing to this. But really, what other choice do I have? Somehow, I feel like I'm letting a new kind of danger into my home by going along with this charade.

Before I say anything, I fidget for awhile, mulling it over in my mind. When I finally speak, I do my best to look them both dead in the eyes.

"What do I call you?"