The Hitwoman Gets Lucky (Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman)

by Lynn, JB

  “What if you suffocate?” I asked, hating the way my resolve was crumbling.

  “Without youuuuuuuuuu.”

  “If I get into trouble, I’ll bite you,” God pledged solemnly.

  I gnawed on my bottom lip, agonizing over the decision.

  “Hurry,” he begged. “Make up your mind before she comes out again.”

  Shaking my head, knowing I was nuts for doing so, I moved toward his case. “Remember, this was your idea.”

  I stuck my room key in one cup of my bra, twenty bucks in the other cup, and extended my hand to the lizard. “Be careful in there.”

  Chapter Seven

  We never got dinner.

  Armani, who’d apparently done quite well against the slot machines wanted to play a few games of roulette first.

  As far as I could tell, she had no rhyme or reason to her method of betting, just yelling out “red” or “black” as the mood hit her. Then again, it is a game of chance.

  Standing there, watching the roulette wheel spin round and round, I didn’t bet a dollar, despite the urging of the crowd around the table. I fought the urge to fidget as I pretended to be interested in Armani’s gambling. It felt as though a million pairs of eyes were giving me the once over as I stood there in the zebra-print dress that was even shorter than the black dress Patrick liked so much. I desperately wanted to tug down the hem, but there was nowhere for it to go.

  “You’re stifling me,” God complained on a whisper.

  I ignored him

  “You’re crushing me,” he insisted, more loudly.

  Armani, in the midst of scooping her winnings toward her, gave me a strange look. “Are your boobs squeaking?”

  “What?” My face grew hot as everyone in earshot focused on my chest.

  “Are your boobs squeaking?” Her voice carried far enough that people at other tables started staring at me.

  I thought my face might spontaneously combust.

  “I’m going to the ladies’ room,” I told her, tottering away on my high heels.

  “Don’t you dare slouch,” God berated me. “Every time you do, my air supply is cut off.”

  Face burning, breasts chirping, balance teetering, I retreated to the relative calm and quiet of a restroom. Locking myself into a stall, I reached in and pulled the lizard out of his hiding place.

  “Easy! Easy!” he cried. “I have delicate skin.” He balanced on my palm, giving me the evil eye, which wasn’t the slightest bit intimidating considering he’s only inches long.

  I was tempted to drop him in the toilet and let it flush him into the Atlantic, reasoning that my life would be a whole lot easier, not to mention quieter.

  “Either I leave you in the room, or you shut the hell up,” I whispered. “You can’t have it both ways.”

  “I’m bored.”

  “Yeah? Well I’m bored, my feet hurt, and I feel like a t-bone hanging in front of a dog pound.”

  “So let’s go back to the room,” he suggested. “I’ll even let you choose what to watch on television.”

  “I dunno…” His suggestion was tempting.

  “You know she’s going to stay at the that table until her money runs out. Is that really how you want to spend the night?”

  I sighed. “No.”

  “Good, so it’s settled.” He clambered back up my arm, across my collarbone and climbed down to the valley between my breasts.

  It tickled.

  “Don’t slouch,” he reminded me.

  I paused when I stepped out of the ladies’ room to let my eyes adjust to the flashing lights and my ears to adapt to the non-stop din.

  “It looks good on you, Mags.”

  I turned to find Patrick lounging against the wall, blatantly admiring my legs. As his gaze travelled slowly upward, a warm flush spread inside me.

  “Not loving the make-up though,” he murmured, taking a step closer to focus on my face. Leaning closer, he tenderly brushed a tendril of hair from my cheek.

  Anticipating his kiss, I let my eyes flutter closed.

  “I need you to get lucky,” he whispered.

  Liquid heat coursed through my veins. That was how I wanted to spend my night.

  “Get him out on the boardwalk,” Patrick continued, throwing ice water on my overactive imagination. “But leave Armani at the table.”

  I opened my eyes and realized he wasn’t staring down at me with heavy-lidded desire. His gaze was fixed on a spot across the room. I followed it and saw Lucky O’Hara standing a few feet from Armani, watching her antics with fascination.

  “How am I supposed to do that?” I asked.

  “You’re a resourceful woman in a killer dress,” Patrick said with a smile. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” He spun on his heel and marched away, leaving me to ponder this newest problem.

  “Any suggestions?” I said aloud, even though no one stood around me.

  “You’re on your own with this one,” God said from my bosom. “I can’t fathom a woman’s wiles. Whatever you do, don’t slouch.”

  I made my way, shoulders back, chest lifted, across the casino floor and retook my spot behind Armani. Busy batting her eyelashes at the guy on her right, she didn’t notice my return. I stood there for a few minutes watching her gamble and flirt, while keeping an eye on Lucky.

  He made no move to place a wager, probably because he was too young. Like me, he just stood there, watching. I tried to come up with a reason to talk to him, but couldn’t. I was tired and all I wanted to really do was take a nap. I wasn’t cut out for thievery.

  I yawned, closing my eyes as I did. When I reopened them, he was gone. Panicked, I spun around, searching for him. Unaccustomed to wearing high heels, I swayed unsteadily, but someone grabbed my elbow, preventing me from ending up on the floor in an undignified sprawl.

  I turned to thank my rescuer. “Thank—”

  “You okay?” Lucky O’Hara asked me, releasing my arm.

  I nodded dumbly. Close up, he looked closer to twenty than twelve, with a slightly bemused smile and intelligent eyes.

  “You look bored,” he said.

  “I am.” I admitted.

  “Want to get out of here?” he asked.

  I nodded. Normally if I guy I’d just met asked me to leave with him, I’d tell him to take a hike, but this worked into Patrick’s plan, or lack of a plan, perfectly. “I’d love to take a walk on the boardwalk.”

  Lucky smiled. “Sounds like an excellent plan. I’m Lucky.” He extended his hand. “What’s your name?”

  I shook his hand. It was a little limp. “Is Lucky really your name?” I asked, trying to come up with an alias. If I was going to steal from the guy, it probably wasn’t a good idea to give him my real name.

  “It really is,” he promised.

  “I’m Pearl,” I said. It wasn’t a total lie. My mom had told me many times that Margaret means “pearl.”

  “Nice to meet you, Pearl. Shall we?” He offered me his arm.

  I crooked mine through it and off we went. As we crossed the casino floor, he asked, “You don’t seem to be a gambler, so what brought you to Atlantic City, business?”

  “Barry Manilow.”

  He chuckled. “Really?”

  “Really. My aunt gave me tickets. What about you? Why are you here?”

  I hoped that his answer might give me an inkling of why Patrick was so desperate to get hold of his flash drive.

  “Business,” he said simply.

  Since I knew his business was robbery, I didn’t push the issue.

  Escaping the noise of the casino, we stepped out onto the Boardwalk. The sun was setting over the Atlantic Ocean. If I’d been standing arm-in-arm with another man, I might have found it romantic.

  “Where to?” he asked.

  Thinking fast I said, “Would you think I was silly if I said I like to play games of chance?” I figured they’d be a good distraction if Patrick was planning on picking Lucky’s pocket.

  He smiled.
“Me too.”

  We moved toward the bright lights of the Steel Pier where the lights from the Ferris wheel lit up the sky and the screams from The Rocket punctuated the night.

  “There used to be a lot more games. Now it’s all shopping,” I complained. “My family spent a summer down here when I was a kid and my dad worked them. All the hucksters had to shout over one another to hawk their games.”

  “Did you have fun?”

  I smiled at the memory. “I ate a lifetime’s worth of saltwater taffy and cotton candy. When I think about it now, I suspect my sisters and I spent eight weeks on a sugar high.”

  “Do you have a large family?”

  The happy memory faded, replaced by current regrets. “It used to be bigger.” I shook my head, knowing it wasn’t the time to engage in melancholy reflection. “What about you? Do you have a big family?”

  “Irish Catholics are by definition big families,” he said with an easy chuckle. “I was lucky to be raised by such a large, loving brood.”

  “Hence your name?” I asked.

  He laughed, “Believe it or not, my birth parents named me that.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. I don’t remember them, but my adoptive parents, Bob and Joann O’Hara, said they were real characters. The Chens and the O’Hara’s had been friends since the 1860’s when both families helped to build the railroad.”

  “So you weren’t adopted from China?’

  “Naah. My American roots go back further than a lot of the people I meet. The O’Hara’s adopted me after my parents were killed in a car accident.” Reaching the games of chance, he suggested, “Why don’t I try to win you a prize?” He pointed to a basketball shooting game.

  “Sounds good.” While he lined up for his shots, I looked around for Patrick. I couldn’t see him anywhere. I glanced at the chain dangling from Lucky’s pocket, wondering if there was a way for me to snag it.

  He sank all five of his shots.

  “You’ve done this before,” I accused on a laugh.

  “I got pushed around a lot on the basketball court growing up,” he explained. “So I perfected my foul shot.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” the guy running the game groused. “Pick a prize from the top row and move on.”

  I considered the collection of stuffed animals and chose a stuffed purple dog thinking Doomsday might like it.

  “Your turn,” Lucky said. “Which would you like to play?”

  I surveyed my choices. “That one.”

  We crossed the aisle so that I could pick up a big, black water gun. I may be an inept hitwoman, but I’m actually a good shot. A really good shot.

  Lucky cheered me on as I efficiently mowed down my targets.

  “Remind me not to mess with you,” he laughed. “You’re one dangerous lady.”

  If he only knew.

  Having added a pink dinosaur to my collection of prizes, we moved on.

  “Care to take a ride on the tilt-a-whirl?”

  I shook my head. “Not me. I get too dizzy.”

  He looked disappointed so I suggested, “You go on. I’ll wait.”

  “You’re sure?” he asked with childlike hopefulness.

  “Positive.”

  I watched as he bought his ticket, a boyish grin lighting his expression. I realized I liked Lucky O’Hara. I felt guilty for wanting, no needing, to steal from him.

  “Want me to hold anything for you?” I asked as he prepared to board the ride, hoping I could get him to hand over the flash drive.

  “Nope. I’m good.” With a jaunty wave, he climbed on and buckled his seatbelt.

  As soon as the ride began to spin, I heard my name called. “Maggie!”

  I turned and saw Patrick lurking in the shadows. At least I thought it was Patrick. He was wearing an oversized camouflage coat and a hat with earmuffs.

  I walked over to him, carrying my dog and dinosaur. “Are you cold?”

  “It’s a disguise,” he said.

  “Oh. It’s not a good look for you.”

  “Gee thanks. I need you to get O’Hara away from the crowds.”

  I eyed the hitman suspiciously. “Why?”

  “So I can steal the flash drive.”

  “But you’re not going to hurt him, right? Because he seems like a nice guy.”

  Patrick narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Are you falling for the mark?”

  “I’m not falling for him.” I stamped my foot for emphasis. “I just don’t want to see him hurt.”

  “I’m not going to hurt him.”

  “Promise?”

  He nodded.

  “What’s on the flash drive?”

  Patrick glanced over me at the spinning ride. “It’s safer for you not to know.”

  His answer rubbed me the wrong way. “So it’s okay to expose me to the danger of interacting with him while you hide in the shadows, but you don’t trust me enough to tell me why?”

  Patrick’s mouth flattened into a hard line. “Just get him alone.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  He frowned. “If you don’t, he might get hurt.” Spinning on his heel, he stalked away.

  Chapter Eight

  Lucky might have been the one to get off the dizzying ride, but I was the one who felt like she was on unsure footing.

  Patrick’s threat had shaken me. I mean I’ve always known he kills people for money, but I’d never sensed that veiled violence in him before. Whatever was on Lucky’s drive was bringing out the worst in him.

  “Thanks!” Lucky bounded up to me, grinning from ear-to-ear.

  “Want to go again?” I hoped he would so that I’d have a little time to think.

  “Once was enough. Got it out of my system. What would you like to do now?”

  “Let’s go for a walk.” I told myself I was doing it in order to protect him.

  As we walked he told me about how his O’Hara brothers were real daredevils.

  I laughed in all the right places of the story as I led him farther and farther away from the crowds and deeper and deeper into the shadows. The sky was overcast and the moonlight illuminated our path sporadically.

  We left the boardwalk, crossed the beach, and strolled along the water’s edge, not an easy feat as my heels sank into the sand. The surf slammed against the shore, which I’m sure was the only thing that prevented him from hearing the pounding of my heart. I couldn’t see Patrick, but I knew he was out there. Watching.

  “I think my parents had some sort of layaway plan with the Emergency Room doctors,” Lucky joked.

  “But they’re all still safe and sound?” I thought of my two dead sisters.

  “Yeah. Still getting into trouble. In fact—”

  “Give me your wallets,” a deep, menacing voice boomed from the darkness.

  Even thought I’d been expecting it, I flinched and stumbled, teetering precariously on my high heels.

  Patrick emerged from the shadows, the hat covering the upper half of his face. I bit back a chuckle when I realized he’d slapped on a black handlebar moustache, which gave him a decidedly cartoonish appearance.

  “Give me everything,” Patrick demanded again, flicking open a switchblade for emphasis.

  Lucky and I kept backing away, closer to the water’s edge.

  Patrick stared at me, silently signaling I should set an example for my companion.

  I held out the dog and dinosaur to him. “Here,” I said breathlessly, getting into my role. “Take them.”

  Knocking them out of my grasp he growled, “Give me your valuables.”

  That’s when Lucky O’Hara, the mark, the guy this whole thing was staged for, decided to play hero.

  “Get away from her!” He bravely jumped in between us.

  “Don’t!” I said, pulling Lucky backward. I really didn’t want him to get hurt. “Just give him what he wants. I read that in a magazine article once. You’re always supposed to give a mugger what they want. Don’t fight back. Unless they’re going to drag
you into a car… then you should fight like a banshee.”

  I felt Lucky’s hesitation.

  “Do what the lady says, pal,” Patrick ordered.

  “No,” Lucky said, holding his ground.

  I barely suppressed a groan. This was going down as the worst stick-up in history.

  “Listen, punk.” Patrick took a menacing step toward us.

  I wasn’t sure he remembered his promise to me to not hurt O’Hara. I jumped between them.

  “It’s just stuff,” I told Lucky. “Stuff trumps safety.” To prove my point I reached into my bra to yank out my cash.

  My plan was to thrust the money at the would-be mugger, but instead I sent God hurtling through the air.

  “Aaaaaaaaaaaaah!” the lizard shrieked.

  Instinctively, Patrick tried to catch him.

  He missed.

  God bounced off the sound with a pained, “Ooomph!”

  With Patrick distracted by my flying pet, Lucky made his move, throwing his body at the mugger. Off balance from trying to catch Godzilla, Patrick toppled to the ground with Lucky on top of him.

  “Help! Help!” God cried as the two men rolled toward him, locked in battle.

  “Stop it! Stop it!” I yelled, skirting unsteadily around them, trying to reach the lizard in time to keep him from being crushed.

  The sand, plus the shoes, proved too much to me. I crashed to my knees.

  “I’m going to die!” God wailed pitifully.

  Kicking off my shoes, I crawled toward him.

  Meanwhile, the two men grappled for position, rolling into the surf.

  “Nobody gets hurt!” I shouted, both as a reminder to Patrick and a promise to God.

  “You tried to kill me!” God shrieked his indignation while Patrick and Lucky rolled around on the ground grunting.

  The moonlight glinted off a piece of metal in the sand. Realizing that it was Lucky’s chain, I snatched it up. I fumbled to one end and found his pocket watch. A quick glance at the two men revealed neither was paying the slightest bit of attention to me. Hands trembling, I found the flash drive. Pulling off the memory stick, I shoved it in my bra and threw the rest of it into the ocean before turning my attention back to the wrestlers beside me.