AKA Jill - 3
Angela wandered around downtown, stopping every once in a while to admire the buildings. She loved the feeling she got when she looked up at them; part awe and part dizziness as she traced their shape up, up, up in to the sky. Rene had called her in for an afternoon meeting with the big wigs of her company, Blackbird Publishing, after raving to them about the chapter that Angela had sent her the night before, and she had some time to kill before their appointment. Rene had a pretty good eye for potential, and had tried to talk Angela into writing something else other than the last book that she pushed for. Unfortunately, everyone else, including Angela, could only see the potential in the money that they imagined making, and since she had already penned two bestsellers prior they thought that she could do no wrong. The reviews and performance had been a harsh shot of reality to Angela, although a necessary one to bring her head out of the clouds, but it gave Rene a chance to have her voice heard once again. Angela appreciated this about Rene; she was a voice of reason in her sometimes flawed thought process, and even though she didn't always adhere to Rene's suggestions and advice, Rene never gave up on her. She saw potential in Angela.
Angela was looking for potential, too, although not the same kind that Rene did. Scratch that. If Rene was a little faster and looser with things like "morals" and "laws" and such, maybe they would be looking for the same kind of potential. That potential being an unassuming, inconspicuous man that Angela, a.k.a. Jill, could help shuffle off this mortal coil a few years early. The new of her first foray into murder town hadn't broken yet so she felt comfortable in potentially - there it was again, that word - doubling her body count. Plus whatever it was that she awoke inside her was hungry for more. Her own internal, murderous infant, seated at the dinner table and ready to splatter blood and gore all over the dining room in its quest to satiate itself.
She came to an intersection and pressed the crosswalk button. A robotic male voice chimed, "WAIT" and a slow beeping began. While she waited, she looked around, noting the people in her immediate area. She glanced across the street at a young man on the opposite side. He was leaning casually against a building wall, wearing a sleeveless jersey and gym shorts. Even at this distance she could see the sweat collecting over the surface of his ebony skin. He looked down at the phone in his hand, running his thumb back and forth across the screen. To his left a woman exited the building and walked towards him. She snuck up and pinched his side, causing the guy to jump and almost drop his phone. She laughed and then thew her arms around him, planting a kiss on his lips.
I should probably call my mom sometime, Angela thought. Wait, is that what I should be thinking about right now, calling my mother? Is that inappropriate? Probably. I'll put it away for later.
"PLEASE WALK," the robotic voice said. Angela looked up and saw the familiar white flashing icon of a pedestrian crossing the street, then proceeded to do as instructed. She passed the guy and girl, who were now both looking at his phone and laughing with each other. A thought shot through her mind, a vision of her plunging a knife deep into the girl's back and wondering if it would be long enough to pierce the guy, as well. She shook her head and kept walking.
Maybe I should set some ground rules, try to keep myself in check. She continued walking down the block, passing shops selling various good and services. No kids, obviously. That's just plain evil. She passed a bakery, the smell of fresh-baked cookies and bread wafting out the open door.
Oh my god, that smells divine...No no, back on track. How about no women, either. Unless they really deserve it. Angela already thought there was too much woman-on-woman hostility in the world, she didn't really want to add to it, but she also wasn't above knocking someone down a peg or two when necessary, woman or not. She came to another intersection, this one already busy with people crossing back and forth. A musician played a soulful song on his guitar off to the side. She stopped to listen, noting the hat he'd placed out for anyone kind enough to toss him some money for his troubles.
She looked him over as she listened. His coat was a sad brownish color, and two sized too big. Underneath he wore a faded yellow t-shirt with small holes here and there. A logo of some sort emblazoned on the front, but had cracked and peeled away too much to make out. His pants had surprisingly trendy holes in them, and would probably sell for a couple hundred dollars in one of the downtown boutiques, if not caked in dirt and other things that Angela didn't want to think about. Mismatched shoes completed the homeless chic look. Despite all this, the guy played the guitar like a dream; each strum of the strings was like a lover's caress. Angela opened her purse, and when he was done dropped a bill into his hat. "Thank you, m'lady," he said, and tipped his head in thanks.
Definitely not killing that guy, either. No one's ever called me m'lady before. And that music he played!
Angela was looking for potential, too, although not the same kind that Rene did. Scratch that. If Rene was a little faster and looser with things like "morals" and "laws" and such, maybe they would be looking for the same kind of potential. That potential being an unassuming, inconspicuous man that Angela, a.k.a. Jill, could help shuffle off this mortal coil a few years early. The new of her first foray into murder town hadn't broken yet so she felt comfortable in potentially - there it was again, that word - doubling her body count. Plus whatever it was that she awoke inside her was hungry for more. Her own internal, murderous infant, seated at the dinner table and ready to splatter blood and gore all over the dining room in its quest to satiate itself.
She came to an intersection and pressed the crosswalk button. A robotic male voice chimed, "WAIT" and a slow beeping began. While she waited, she looked around, noting the people in her immediate area. She glanced across the street at a young man on the opposite side. He was leaning casually against a building wall, wearing a sleeveless jersey and gym shorts. Even at this distance she could see the sweat collecting over the surface of his ebony skin. He looked down at the phone in his hand, running his thumb back and forth across the screen. To his left a woman exited the building and walked towards him. She snuck up and pinched his side, causing the guy to jump and almost drop his phone. She laughed and then thew her arms around him, planting a kiss on his lips.
I should probably call my mom sometime, Angela thought. Wait, is that what I should be thinking about right now, calling my mother? Is that inappropriate? Probably. I'll put it away for later.
"PLEASE WALK," the robotic voice said. Angela looked up and saw the familiar white flashing icon of a pedestrian crossing the street, then proceeded to do as instructed. She passed the guy and girl, who were now both looking at his phone and laughing with each other. A thought shot through her mind, a vision of her plunging a knife deep into the girl's back and wondering if it would be long enough to pierce the guy, as well. She shook her head and kept walking.
Maybe I should set some ground rules, try to keep myself in check. She continued walking down the block, passing shops selling various good and services. No kids, obviously. That's just plain evil. She passed a bakery, the smell of fresh-baked cookies and bread wafting out the open door.
Oh my god, that smells divine...No no, back on track. How about no women, either. Unless they really deserve it. Angela already thought there was too much woman-on-woman hostility in the world, she didn't really want to add to it, but she also wasn't above knocking someone down a peg or two when necessary, woman or not. She came to another intersection, this one already busy with people crossing back and forth. A musician played a soulful song on his guitar off to the side. She stopped to listen, noting the hat he'd placed out for anyone kind enough to toss him some money for his troubles.
She looked him over as she listened. His coat was a sad brownish color, and two sized too big. Underneath he wore a faded yellow t-shirt with small holes here and there. A logo of some sort emblazoned on the front, but had cracked and peeled away too much to make out. His pants had surprisingly trendy holes in them, and would probably sell for a couple hundred dollars in one of the downtown boutiques, if not caked in dirt and other things that Angela didn't want to think about. Mismatched shoes completed the homeless chic look. Despite all this, the guy played the guitar like a dream; each strum of the strings was like a lover's caress. Angela opened her purse, and when he was done dropped a bill into his hat. "Thank you, m'lady," he said, and tipped his head in thanks.
Definitely not killing that guy, either. No one's ever called me m'lady before. And that music he played!
Comments
Post a Comment