“I can tag along, Franklin —”
“No, Caro, every job you touch goes haywire. I cannot afford any mistakes,” Franklin said, “Besides you know I already have a job for you tomorrow.”
“Right,” Caro said, glaring down at Franklin. I was becoming uncomfortable with the hostility between them.
“All righty, so what exactly am I doing?” I asked.
“There’s a man. His name is Jeff Hooker —”
“Ha ha, funny name,” I said, giggling. Franklin waited for my amusement to subside, “Sorry, continue.”
“Anyway, Jeff Hooker is the District Attorney,” he began, as I tried to stifle my laugh.
“Dani, seriously?” Caro asked.
“What? I’m sorry,” I said, quelling my laugh once more.
“Tomorrow night he will be receiving something that I need. A jump drive with information on it. I want you to make sure he receives it, then, once he returns to his house, alone, I want you to get it from him, and please be sure to use excessive force. You know your trigger word. Use that if you need, just make sure it is as violent as humanly possible, but don’t kill him.”
“So, beat him senseless and take the jump drive from him.”
“Yes, exactly.”
“Okay. What is a jump drive?” I asked. Franklin squinted his eyes at me.
“It’s a computer storage. . .” he began, then pulled a small rectangle from his desk drawer, “This, it looks like this.”
“Got it,” I replied, “Anything else?”
“Dani, just be sure to use extreme precaution. This job needs to go off without a hitch. Get the drive, and let us know as soon as you have it. Do not go home until we have obtained the drive from you.”
“All right. I can do that. What’s the payout?”
“Fifty grand,” Franklin replied with a smirk.
“Holy shit. Well, all right then. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
Caro dropped me off at my apartment after our meeting, and then quickly left. I had forgotten to ask what kind of job Caro was doing tomorrow. I crept up the stairs to my apartment. When I arrived to my door, there was a small wooden stool with a plastic wrapped plate and a note on it. The plate contained a dozen chocolate chip cookies. The note read: Hope you are having a good week -Joanne
A warm feeling rose in me that made me skip a breath. What an unusual emotional response, I thought to myself. I smiled, unlocked my door, and went inside.
As I treated myself to the cookies for dinner, I rummaged through my apartment, preparing for tomorrow. I laid out my black pants, gray shirt, and black hooded jacket. I found some gloves and put them out as well. I sat on the side of the bed and glanced at the clothes. I felt a bit of hesitation pulse through me. I imagined an alternate life, one that didn’t involve hurting people, where I had a real job, like selling houses or insurance. How boring, yet, in a way, tempting. I searched my apartment for some left over coke to ease my anxious mind. I found a couple of small, half-filled baggies in the kitchen.
I sat on my bed with one of my great-grandmother’s journals and poured the powder on top of it. I made little rows and snorted them one by one, then pulled another journal from the box and looked at it. The handwriting was different and a lot of the words were illegible from some sort of water damage.
I flipped the pages in it and noticed there were some pages in the middle that I was just barely able to read. It said something about a girl but didn’t mention her name, something about wanting to be better for her, about being toxic to her and everyone. Something about how this girl gave hope for a better life. I became frustrated by its bleeding words and tossed the journal to the side. When I did, I looked at it more closely. The familiarity came rushing back. This wasn’t my great-grandmother’s journal at all, it was mine. I grabbed the journal again and quickly and tried to find my place from before. I thought I found the page I had been on and stared at the words. The letters of the words were impossible to read and moved along the page lines as if they did not want to be read. I blinked my eyes multiple times and shook my head. I glanced over at the journal with the final remnants of drugs on it.
“Oh yeah,” I said out loud, realizing I must be tweaking.
My curiosity still piqued, I glanced over at my clock. It was half past eight. I contemplated an idea in my mind momentarily, and then grabbed my shoes and the journal. I creeped out of my apartment and headed down the hallway. Just as I was about to pass the stairs, the door to my right opened.
“Hey, Dani! How’s it going?” came Jonathan’s voice. I cringed at the sight of him. He had clearly been roughed up by someone. His eye blackened, lip busted, and several scrapes on his face.
“Damn, what happened to you?” I asked.
“Oh, nothing I can’t handle,” he said with confidence, yet hidden nervousness.
“You sure? Is someone giving you a hard time?”
“Nah, nah. Nothing like that. There’s just greedy people all around. You know?”
“Yeah,” I said, thinking of my own greed.
“Anyway, you need anything?” he asked, hopefully.
“No, I’m good for today.”
“All right. . . All right. Well, just let me know when you do. I’m always here,” he said, nodding his head and pointing to his apartment.
“Yeah, for sure. Maybe tomorrow,” I replied.
“Cool, cool. Well, have a good night. Stay safe,” he said, and retreated to his apartment.
“Yeah, you too.”
How unusual, I thought. Jonathan was perhaps slightly less annoying after an ass kicking. I almost pitied him. I continued down the hall where I reached a doormat that said ‘Home Sweet Home’. I figured this must be the place. I knocked quietly, in case it was already too late. Moments later,
