I know coming here is a stupid idea. I know nothing good will come out of tonight, but I also know myself enough to know, I can't just walk away.
It'll eat at me.
It will fester.
It will cause problems in my daily routine, and that's what pisses me off.
It pisses me off that she has the ability to affect me in any type of way, and I hate that about myself.
I hate that she has the ability to get under my skin.
I hate that I'm in a tuxedo, in a stuffy ass room, despite the front wall being open to the beach.
I’m not exactly a bad guy.
Well, that’s not true. I’m not a good guy, but for the last several months, I’ve been saving people… for a price, of course.
Then again, I will also kill someone for a price.
Killing for a price was the old game. I've changed tactics, and it's not really because of morals.
I've discovered that people pay more for someone they love. People pay a higher price for a rescue than they’re willing to pay for revenge against someone who wronged them.
Maybe I'm a piece of shit for switching from assassin to rescuer, but I'm still able to get blood on my hands either way, so I consider it a win-win situation.
I continue to watch her, wondering what she's going to do next, when she smiles and speaks to the woman she's been standing near for the last couple of minutes before walking away.
She’s the star of the party, although I have no illusions that this event is for her specifically. It seems like everybody wants a piece of her time.
Are they chipping away at her? Are they taking tiny bits and pieces that will eventually leave her with nothing? You can’t tell it by looking at her. Each fake smile is just as vibrant as the next one she gives, even after being stopped five times on her way across the room.
She walks up to a man that looks familiar to me, but I can't place him, and that annoys me as well.
I'm usually really good about knowing where people are from, about knowing who they are, what kind of danger they pose to me or if they're even a threat at all. This man is throwing up a flag, but I just can’t pull his information up.
I once again blame her for having me so distracted.
There's a younger guy there, and I watch frozen in place across the room as he lifts her hand to his mouth and presses his lips there. It shouldn't annoy me. I’ve seen several men press their lips to her skin, and it didn’t cause such a visceral reaction as this last one does.
Is he the type of man she wants—a stuffy asshole in a tuxedo with an over-bleached smile?
I can guess he's a politician, but if we weren't in a classy hotel with red, white, and blue decorations everywhere, I could also easily assume he's a car salesman or an insurance salesman and be just as right as guessing that he's a political candidate.
It doesn't take long for the older couple that initially greeted her to walk away to talk to others.
And it takes even less time for him to escort her out of the room.
This just won't do.
My anger starts to simmer below the surface.
I got nothing from her at the store earlier today other than a slap to the face by her ignoring me, and this man gets to guide her outside into darkness? This man is worthy of a conversation and a slow walk on the beach?
Inside, a sinister chuckle fills my head.
She may be smiling now.
She may be carrying on polite conversation with this man.