Pink Walls

Saffron [Part II]✓

“The fact that you call me Kay, doesn't make me your yes man.”

On the door to Ron's office, the words 'Welcome To Hell' had been carved out, the gaps that formed the choppy sentence filled in with what I knew was red paint.

I had been the only one around the day it happened. Headquarters had been infiltrated by a local gang over last year's holidays and they had drawn read and green graffiti everywhere.

When everyone came back to work the next week on New Years, only one person had been pleased.

Ron regularly redid the words just to humor those who thought that the Ciscos would lose control over the city when the Carmosinos started rolling up sleeves and baring fangs but I had witnessed enough blood being spilled on the red-tinged wood for me to know better than to touch it with my bare hands.

I flipped Frank's knife in my hand and used the hilt to knock. I hit the doorpost thrice, softly with a breath of pause between each knock; the door creaked and opened immediately.

A deep breath told me that it was occupied. Though Ron's office always smelt of saffron and cinnamon, the incense only burned so strongly when someone had a reason to go inside. Usually, on weekends, the scent was old and stale.

Ron was almost never in on Saturdays. So right now, I didn't know what to expect.

I stepped into the dimly lit room and shut the door with my heel but before I could say a word two hands circled around me from behind, one curling around my waist and the other wrapping loosely around my neck.

Instinctively, I flipped the knife the right way up. My left hand had a terrible backhand grip. That made it easy to get me disarmed.

While my mind worked overtime to find ways of escaping the hold, my gaze drifted to the hands themselves. From wrist to elbow, a dozen gold and silver bracelets ran up the dark skin of my attacker; all ten of their fingers were decorated with two inch stiletto nails varnished with a neon purple polish that glowed softly in the darkness of the room.

Those alone were familiar enough to calm me down. I closed my eyes and let my hand fall to my side. The last time I had seen Ron, the nails had been shorter and neon green.

"Boss," I greeted half-heartedly as the tip of one deadly finger pierced through my shirt and into my side. "You got me."

"Well, well," Ron's soft voice tickled my ear. It sounded equal parts dangerous and seductive, just how I remembered it. "Look who finally decided to turn up."

"You let your guard down today," the hands shoved me away and I spun on my heel to maintain balance. "You're late."

I opened my eyes again to see Ron leaning against the door, lips painted a crimson-red displaying a smug grin.

"Barely, Boss," I wanted to look down at my wrist but remembered in time that I didn't have a watch. Still, I knew that if I was late it was only by a few seconds. "I counted the time personally. I know how you feel about punctuality."

"Ah, Kay. No one is here other than you and me. No need to put on a show."

"I prefer drawing lines with my superiors. It keeps things professional."

"Well, I could have sliced a deadly line on your carotid some seconds ago as punishment for you being tardy but I didn't. That should tell you that professionally I don't just consider myself your superior."

"Saffron, I'm sorry for being late," I said to amend my previous greeting and she crossed the distance between us to press a chaste kiss on my lips.