What would I do?... I always thought of retirement as me laying in a coffin or at the bottom of the ocean with a head shot wound, not sitting in a diner with the princess of Chicago and apparently Mexico, with an army in my ass and another one due to come. I guess the situation would end with me shot to death and falling to the pit of an ocean, I just don't know when.
The seats of the small isolated restaurant was twice as comfortable than the car, which was going to explode in due time from the long travel. It was nearly empty, not including that one lonely waitress and the cook, an old truck driver sat at the other in of the diner and nurtured a cup of coffee. There was no sign of Blondie's father nor uncle, just lonesome and that hint of worry.
"They'll be here," Poor naive girl, she still had her high sense of hope. "For the meantime, eat." She pushed the full tray of hot fries my way, none of us could eat or even keep anything down; we were exposed, near the opened road with desert all around- no where to hide nor escape.
I managed to eat one, my stomach churned from the sudden need of nutrition that I haven't received in the past twenty-four has its or so. Being on the road most of the time didn't give us time to sit down for a good meal, even if it were greasy. "We're exposed. Even though we got rid of the one possible thing he can track us with, there's still other ways to find us. One of them being through your uncle, not saying he'll say anything- but your father may or may not know he can't cross Michigan lines."
"My father fears my mother side of the family more than he fears his actual enemy, he won't cross my uncle." The fact didn't exactly kick me back on the ledge, but it let me eat a few more fries to settle my stomach. Blondie sighed heavily, she reached out to place the tip of her fingers against mine. I flinched from the touch, removing my vulnerable hand from the table and gave her a questionable look. "Sorry," She burst out. "I was trying to give support to make you relax. That's what my mother did to me every time I was pulling my hair out before a performance."
Being that she went over the line of my personal space by trying to hold my hand (even though I held hers, but that was regarding life or death), I forget it all to dig deeper into the princess mind. It was odd, the things she told me about her family had made me want to know more about her. It was basically reading the back of the book, then the inside tab, along with the first line to see if it was worth the read; I was starting to think it was worth it. "Performance?"
"Ballet. I took classes ever since high school, mother thought it build character for me.... thought I'll make a career out of it. You know parents dreams for their children, always so high and so grand. Did you ever take ballet?"
I shook my head no, the tip of my fingers fiddled with the warm fry before popping it in my mouth. "I wasn't that type of girl."
Blondie smiles as well, her pink lips stretched to show her pearly whites, cheeks flushed as they form deep pot holes, and she did her nervous tick by tugging a strain of her hair back. I've missed that tick, it immediately reminded me of that scared human being in the cafe, wanting to take revenge for her brother's death, and having the balls to walk through the lion's den with no plan or regret. "What type of girl?"
"I wasn't in to ballet, or anything pink, nor dolls- they creep me out."
"Dolls creep you out?"
"Yeah," I chuckled, it was a joyful laugh that I haven't heard in a very, very long time. "Their fake eyes follow you everywhere, then it's the fact that they actually look strangely real, and they remind me of dirty children who would slobber all over them. If I ever get near to one, I'll freak out."
Blondie laughed as well, it was soft, her hazel eyes twinkled in happiness, and she rested her chin on her hand to come closer; cheeks still flushed, smile wider, and dimples even deeper. "I love dolls." Her pinky finger gently glides against her lower lip, I felt her eyes examining deep into my soul. What is she looking for?... "What type of girl were you, then?"
YOU ARE READING
Honey Trap
Action"Count backwards from ten." The words escaped my mouth, echoing off the walls until they hit the old man's ears. He flinched, I could smell the sweat pouring out his pores, along with the shit he just dumped in his slacks. "Ten," He finally spoke o...
