How To Hide A Body

Namast'ay With Me

Namo Buddha

Nepal

23 / 8 / 2013

aka: a few years ago

The Buddhist monks rocked back and forth in the cafeteria at the monastery in Nepal to a series of prayers and she ate her salty and small portion of bean soup, immersed in the scene occurring in front of her. Instead of peeling her eyes away from the yellow and maroon robed figures before her, she attempted to place her bowl back on the table, accidentally thrusting it into the side of the table, making the bowl tip forward and spill out all its contents onto her green elephant pants. Her metal bowl clattered to the marble floor, not interrupting the flow of prayers but scoring a couple of questionable looks from the older monks and raised eyebrows from the younger ones. Flustered, she bent down, picking up the bowl and attempting to scrape up the beans off of her sock without causing an even greater scene than she already had.

As she tried to wipe the stain from the white marble floor with the only napkin she had received, a hand with a second napkin came to her aid. Startled, she looked up and locked eyes with the man next to her.

"Namasté," he smiled.

"Namasté," she bowed her head, also smiling.

"You got a little something," he gestured all over her and laughed.

'No need to remind me," she rolled her eyes and continued to clean. He bent down and helped, chuckling. A woman in a blue scarf wrapped over her shoulders, with prayer beads decorating her neck like pearls, turned and shushed them. Once she had resumed to her meditative state, the man helping her clean up flipped the scarved woman off, which caused her to erupt into another fit of giggles, which did receive a couple of judgemental glances from the other guests and some monks, too. They both quickly swallowed their laughter.

Deciding that they should both leave before they caused even more havoc, they quickly dumped their utensils in the washbowl and scurried out of the eating hall. Once they were at the foot of the steps, they burst out laughing, falling over as they tried to put their shoes back on while balancing on one foot.

"I'm Magnus, by the way," he introduced himself only when they had stopped laughing.

"Rachel," she said, holding out her hand. He shook it.

***

Their first kiss occurred under a canopy of prayer flags on the tip of the mountain, with a beautiful view of the monastery. They sat together, eating some Tibetan momos they had stuffed and hidden in their bags from breakfast that last night. They ran to catch the sunrise before the rest of the world awoke. This is where he asked the question, which would change her life forever. 

"So, what do you do?" he asked her, as they sat hand in hand. 

"I am the housekeeper/chef/secretary of a private criminal." she chuckled as she said it, listening to how absurd it was, "I know it sounds ridiculous-" 

"What's a Private Criminal?" he asked, taking another bite of the bread. 

"Well, she helps criminals commit crimes without being caught," she explained. 

"Can you get me her contact details?" he asked. She burst out laughing. 

When he didn't laugh, she asked, "Why? What do you do?" she asked, still giggling. 

"Well, you're not going to believe this-" 

Rachel scoffed, "Don't tell me you run an international drug ring," her hand reached towards her bag, ready to leave, "Because I am fed up with criminals. She pisses me off like no one knows nor understands. She is the most selfish, self-absorbed person in the whole universe. So, do not tell me you are a criminal. I hate criminals." 

"In that case, I own a bakery," he said, smiling. She examined his face for even a wrinkle out of place, making sure he was telling the truth. 

"You're not lying to me, right?" 

"I would never. I legitimately own a bakery." he paused, taking a breath, "Only, this bakery works as a cover-up for the black market." She shook her head, getting up to leave him and book flight tickets home. "Rach, please!" he grabbed her hand, "you could be the co-owner. The co-owner of the black market! You could finally kill your boss and no one would hold you accountable!" He laughed.

She paused. Flashes of Solange throwing fits, throwing objects, throwing insults, faking her death, threating to poison, threatening to assassinate, it was too much. And now, with Magnus, and end was in sight. She sat back down, and asked, "So like, the black market?"

"Yep. It's difficult to explain, but the Hoffburgs invented it. It has been running for centuries now. Through both world wars-" 

"So, the black market is where I could technically get anything from? So, like, hire someone to kill my boss for me?" she laughed, paused and said, deadpan, "I'm not joking." 

"Actually, I do need an assassin... I've got myself into some legal trouble. Would you mind just slipping it into conversation with your boss?" He winked.

"Why not get someone off the black market to do it?" she asked, resting her head on his shoulder. He smelt of green tea. "I'm sure you have, like, KGB agents who would jump at the opportunity." 

"I need a professional. Rach, you don't understand the amount of shit-" 

"This is a holy place!" Rachel shushed him. 

He chuckled and lowered his voice as he continued, "I have bitten off too much that I can chew. Even my reincarnations would have to spend life in jail." He cupped her face in his hands, and looked her in the eyes, "I cannot go to jail. I have way too much life to live to spend the rest of it enduring a perilous routine of suffering. I can never go to jail. I need your boss." 

Rachel brushed a chocolate curl behind his hair and kissed him softly, "As long as I can kill the bitch-" 

He put his finger over her lips, "This is a holy place!" She smiled, glowing in the early morning light of dawn, the light reflecting off her crimson hair. 

"I'm in, as long as I can use your black market thing to end her life." 

Magnus chuckled and bit his lip, "For you, Rach, anything." 

TO BE CORRECTED