“Danielle, well, this is a surprise,” she said with a warm smile, “Come in, come in.”
She guided me inside the apartment and into her living room to show me a seat on her couch, a tan, yellowish one that sat near a matching recliner. There were various atrocious knickknacks around the apartment too. She had an old box television from the 80’s and a collection of classic magazine covers framed on her wall.
“I like your place,” I said.
“Why, thank you. I like it myself.”
I sat back a bit and a furry creature pounced up onto the couch to greet me. This must be her Miles. He was white and gray with black stripes in the gray areas of his fur coat. He strolled up to and began sniffing me.
“Hey, buddy,” I said, and ran my hand over his coat. He immediately began walking away from me and sat on the other side of the couch with his back to me, “Okay. . .”
“Miles is not the most affectionate pet,” she said with a laugh, “Although, at times, he can be.”
“I see. Well, I just wanted to stop in and say hi and thank you for the cookies. They were so good.”
“You’re very welcome. I’m glad you enjoyed them. I had made so many, I couldn’t possibly eat them all myself,” she said, as she put her hand on her stomach.
“Yeah, I know what you’re saying. Too much of a good thing. Hey, I was wondering if you could help me out with something,” I said, sniffling slightly.
“Oh my, are you coming down with a cold?” she inquired.
“No, no, probably just allergies. I think I might be allergic to cats,” I said, playing off my drug-induced congestion.
“Oh, of course, my apologies.”
“It’s fine. I don’t mind.”
“Tell me, what did you need help with.”
“Well, I was trying to read one of my friend’s old journals, but um I have a major headache and I can’t quite make out the words. They’re a little water damaged, but I was wondering if maybe you could try to help me make them out?”
“Sure, I can do that,” Joanne said, nodding her head, “Let me just figure out where I put my glasses.”
She disappeared into the kitchen, then reemerged wearing her glasses. She came over and sat down next to me. I opened the journal and turned to the page I was reading before. She took the journal in her hands and put it on her lap. As I looked at the words, they became illegible once more.
“Oh dear, this is quite damaged,” said Joanne.
“Can you make out any of it?” I asked.
“Yes, yes. There is some I can read. Here it says: ‘She looks at me like I am her world, though I am undeserving. I know I am toxic to her, but what I would not give to be a better person. I want to be the person she thinks I am. She tells me she can see the good in me that I cannot see in myself. Someday I will find that missing thing and tell her everything she means to me. Until that day, I must keep my distance, though I know it hurts her. Kissing her was the best feeling in the world, a feeling that will live with me forever. I crossed the line though, something I said I would not do.’”
“Did they write anything else?”
“There’s nothing more that I can read. Danielle, are you sure this isn’t your journal?”
“Maybe. . .”I responded.
“Well, why didn’t you say so? Do you think because I’m old I have a problem with homosexuals?”
“No,” I said with a laugh, “No, ma’am, not at all. I guess I was just embarrassed,” I said.
“Well, no need to be. Who was this girl you were writing about?”
“I have no idea. I wish I knew, but what were we talking about again?” I asked, becoming confused.
“The girl, the one you were writing about,” Joanne said.
“Writing what?”
“In your journal. . . “ Joanne prodded. I cast a look of confusion, and then asked myself why I was at Joanne’s apartment in the first place. I sniffed as snot attempted to escape my nose.
“You must be coming down with something, Danielle. Maybe you should get some rest.”
“Yeah, good idea,” I said, shaking my head, “Well, thank you for having me over.”
“Of course, any time,” Joanne said.
I headed for the door to leave.
“Wait, Danielle, don’t forget your journal,” she said, handing it to me as I opened the door.
“My journal? How did you get this?” I asked.
“You just brought it over here and asked me to read it to you,” Joanne replied, slightly embarrassed.
“I’m sorry. You’re right, I must be getting sick. My brain feels really foggy,” I said, taking the journal from her. I knew there was something I was missing and the culprit of conflict definitely wasn’t Joanne. I said my goodbye and headed back to my apartment.
The following day I awoke exceptionally late. It was almost noon, and I needed to be planning out my day, my strategy, and technique for the night. I didn’t want the job to go even a smidge off plan. I knew if Franklin was going to allow me to take some time off, everything had to be perfect. Jeff Hooker was expected to receive the item at 7:45pm that evening in a local bar, where he would order one drink- a Manhattan- then wait seventeen minutes before exiting the establishment. After which he would go straight home. At that time, I would ensure that he had no other occupants inside of his house and proceed to acquire the jump drive.
I contemplated my approach to Franklin’s requirement of excessive violence without the extremity of death. I looked in the fridge and saw my gun. I could take it as a precaution but it would likely prove unhelpful, or more likely, put me in more
