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“Working some nerves out or a stressful day?” the bartender asks him.
“Both. Long day and scored a date with a chick I’ve been into for a couple years,” he responds, taking another gulp. “I don’t want to mess it up.”
She fills his glass again and eyes him. “Sip this and breathe. She said yes, and that’s a great first step.”
My fingers grip the glass bottle, and I can only think of smashing this across his cocky face. I need space. I finish my beer and head outside. I need some air since the restaurant is starting to suffocate me. Standing in the alley of the restaurant, a warm breeze meets my skin. The smell of rotting food pinches at my nostrils as I try to clear my head with the fact she shouldn’t come here, she shouldn’t be with him, he…
He is behind me…
I duck my head as a fist comes flying by the side of my face. He’s a loud fighter and makes a noise at every step. He hasn’t kept up with any training over the years. I quickly turn and face this heartless man.
“I knew I recognized you! Clever trying to be someone you’re not! Thought I killed you back in the desert!” he growls. “Adam.”
“You clearly suck at your job!”
“Job’s not complete until you’re dead, along with the rest of your men!” He jumps at me.
Greg is a scrappy fighter with a stance like a boxer. He swings at me, and I duck to the side. I grab his arm as he is slow to retract his punch and twist it under, causing it to face toward him. His other hand swings out and I grab it, pulling it over the top of his contorted arm. Yelping in pain, he throws his head into my face. I can feel blood coming from my nose, causing me to let go of his arms. My nose isn’t broken, but it’s bleeding, and my eyes water from the stinging sensation.
“You hit like a teenager on her period.” I laugh at him. Taunting this overgrown child.
“I trained with the best!” he defends himself.
“Didn’t know day care had its own fight club,” I say. I rip my button-down shirt off and wipe the blood from my face and toss it to the side.
“You fucker!” he comes at me again.
Challenged his manhood and now he’s pissed. You can see his mind is clouded. He’s standing tall, and I take advantage of his sloppy boxing fighting style. I duck and sweep his legs out from under him, causing him to fall back and smack his head on the concrete. I move my body over his and situate him in a hook by tightening my legs around his torso. I am a black belt at jujitsu, after all. Greg Johnson never stood a chance. He’s trying to turn his body and move his arm slightly, opening up his chest and inadvertently giving me an open opportunity to grab him. I pull him toward me and shift his arm up by his head. My arm wraps around the back of his neck. Tightening my grip, I compress his arm closer to his head, causing his shoulder to press into the artery in his neck. I can feel the veins in my arm and neck strain from the physical tension.
In this move, it’s a tap, snap, or nap. Tap out to show submission, snap the joint or break the bones. The last one is my favorite—the nap. Putting someone to sleep. In Greg Johnson’s case, a deep sleep so he won’t ever wake up.
He tries to fight it, but his pitiful struggles only make it worse. His body falls limp, even though he’s still trying to hang on. Finally, his body goes completely still. I hold for another minute, ensuring his end.
My body rolls off him, and I gulp in air, trying to catch my breath. Standing, I look down at the dead body at my feet as tension releases from my body. My head falls back and I notice a camera mounted close to the top of the roof. Well, fuck me. At least Greg Johnson will no longer be an issue. Reaching in my pocket, I pull out an airplane bottle of scotch and dump it in his mouth, watching the contents drip from the side. There is some blood on the concrete where he had hit the back of his head. I survey the alley and move a trash container to a better spot, making it look like Greg fell forward, hitting his forehead on the container and then falling back on the concrete. I wipe the airplane bottle down and place it in his hand, squeezing it around his palm so that the fingerprints show before letting go and watching it roll from his grasp.
Picking up my ripped and bloodied shirt, I wipe my face clean of any blood and sweat, then I wrap it up in a tight ball and place it in a plastic bag before shoving everything into a gym bag I had hidden in the alley earlier. Yanking my slacks off, I take out my gym shorts so I can change into my outfit. Throwing my bag over my shoulder, I take one last look at Greg Johnson, then casually exit the alleyway. This evening didn’t go as I had expected. I didn’t expect him to recognize me. I’ll need to contact my hacker and get him to cover my ass.
I stand at the intersection waiting for the crosswalk to change when my spare phone dings.
Sorry, Greg! I got held up at work. Need to reschedule. I’ll call you. The text from Reese shows.
I smirk. She gave him the “I’ll call you” message. A gentle letdown.
Just then, my first phone dings again.
It’s a selfie of Reese at her apartment, and she’s holding a bag of popcorn.
Movie time. Guess what I picked?
CHAPTER 4
GROUNDED SECRETS
Donald Young, The Hacker
I like to stalk the city streets anonymously, but I’m also a very nosy person. A walking contradiction, you could say. The people that pass by me spur my interest. Where are they going? What are they doing? Who are they seeing? What kind of life do they publicly portray? Sometimes, I will create a whole world in my mind based on what they say or do.
I make sure to change the settings for my air pods with the live listen on before leaving my apartment. Carefully place my phone on the side of my messenger bag so I will be able to pick up the sound all around me. Striding down the sidewalk of the city with the buildings towering over me, and my Air Pods picking up the city noise makes me feel settled in the midst of chaos. I never learned how to socialize properly with actual people face to face. And to be honest, I’m better at swinging a hammer or sitting in front of a computer with codes than a “Hey, how are you?” But why not play music instead, you ask? It’s so I can hear everything that people are saying and no one will confront or talk to me. It’s amazing to see how candid people are when they think no one is listening.
