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She kept laughing and that made my smile grow even bigger. Finally, she cleared her throat and glanced playfully back at me.
“He’s not there anymore. Last time I saw him, he was living in some massive mansion upstate with more servants than you could count. He flew me there at one point blindfolded just to remind me of what was at stake if I didn’t listen.”
“Fucking bastard. Was your daughter there too?”
“It had been so long since he allowed me to see her that she hardly recognized me,” she replied sadly, and my heart broke for her.
“I’m sure you’ve thought about it. How would you do it?” I smirked.
She hesitated, looking down at the table. With trepidation, she opened and closed her mouth.
“You won’t say anything to anyone?” she asked.
“Who would I tell? The Father? Hell, I’m his fucking ward and he doesn’t even have the decency to tell me he moved,” I spat.
“Good point,” she chuckled.
“Plus, he sent you to deal with me. He doesn’t care if I live or die and if I told him that I wanted him dead, what do you think he would do to me?”
She didn’t need to say it. We both knew. She took a deep breath. It was her jumping into the deep end now.
“I’d call him. I’d let him know I was coming for him just minutes before I arrived. I’d find a vantage point somewhere that covered all the ways out and when he tried to run, I’d pull the trigger myself,” she whispered.
“Why call him first?” I asked.
“Because I’d want him to know it was me,” she answered.
I sat back and took a healthy sip of champagne.
“What about you? Would you want him to know it was you?” she asked. Her eyes were soft. There were no ulterior motives behind them. It was just the two of us sitting together commiserating about our terrible boss over some cocktails.
“Just between us girls?” I replied. I allowed my voice to shake a bit with insecurity in an effort to make her believe that I was risking just as much as she was by confessing such a terrible thing.
“Of course,” she answered.
“I’ve never killed before,” I ventured, chewing my lip as I thought it over.
“Ignore that part. The first time is the hardest, but after that it gets easier.”
“Yeah. I’d want him to know. One hundred percent. I’d send a note along with his coffee, or maybe even a bouquet of flowers, but I’d make sure he’d know it was me too.” I sighed.
“That’s a nice touch,” she replied.
“It seems so easy,” I mused.
“It does when it’s just the two of us. There are so many more complications, like the number of security guards surrounding the compound or the number of armed servants he has at his beck and call. He has so many resources and people at his disposal that it makes any of our fantasy assassinations virtually impossible,” she added.
“A girl can dream though,” I answered wistfully. “We may not be able to kill him, but at least we can make sure he pays rather dearly for our services.” I raised my glass and took a long swig.
I winked and she chuckled softly.
“If only he would just make it easy with something like a peanut allergy. I’d send him a gift basket with an extra special treat,” Janet continued, and I laughed wholeheartedly. I didn’t stop until my stomach was sore.
“What about shellfish?” I giggled.
“Not that I know of,” she exclaimed giddily. She downed her glass and looked lazily to the bedroom before she yawned. “I think I might call it a night.”
“Already? But we’ve only had one glass of champagne.”
