 
Dedication:

Complications

Miscommunications

Tourettes

## When Ryan met Sara

Copyright 2019 Matthew Carroll

Smashwords Edition

This is a work of fiction, the product of the author's imagination used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. The use and mention of actual events and places are for dramatic purpose, caricature, parody, and pastiche and do not represent the actual places or events or companies associated with them.

...enjoy the story!

~***~

Chapters:

Helen

The Ambassador

The Date

Ryan

Sunday

The Mystery Woman

Denouement

**Helen**

Funeral bells toll as Helen walks out of an English medieval church wearing a white wool dress clutching three lilies in one hand and a rolled up letter in the other. Behind her a procession carries the body of her lover in a rustic wooden box.

She clutches the letter remembering its contents.

"My dearest Helen, not a moment passes without me thinking of you. Our last moments spent still etched in my mind."

Helen remembers the last time she was in Hildebrand's embrace, her hand caress his naked chest.

"It is all that keeps me from succumbing to the horrors I have witnessed."

She imagines the horror of the battlefield, her lover in combat.

Hildebrand on horseback defends against several foot soldiers. His horse is killed and shield is broken. Still, he furiously fends them off with his sword.

The procession lay the casket in a fresh dug grave.

"I long for the days when we can be together again, my love."

Helen throws the lilies on the casket, weeping.

A knock at Helen's hotel door.

"Hoosekeeping, The maid said pushing her cleaning cart through the doorway.

Helen quirked her head up scowling at her through her sleep mask.

The maid took the message and backed out of the room.

"You Americans have such a fanciful way of looking at history." Emily, a reserved middle aged Welsh woman with chubby cheeks and graying hair teased in her northern accent. "I doubt he knew how to read let alone write a letter."

"You don't fantasize about what it must've been like back then?" Helen, a pale toned American with shoulder length brunette hair, deep brown eyes, and fair Greek traits asked.

Both of them sat in the reception office of the Canterbury woman's support center.

"It's hard when the fantasy is blocking your way into work every morning."

"It was such a weird dream. I wonder what it meant." Helen swatted her dark brown hair out of her face and turned around to work on her computer.

"It meant you need to find a man."

"Oh, Emily," Helen said browsing her social media.

A thin drug addicted blonde woman walked up to the help desk.

Emily wheeled her chair over, "May I help you?"

"I was told to come here if I needed help," the woman said. Her hair pulled back in a ratty bun except for a lock covering a black eye.

Helen recognized the woman's Balkan accent.

She sat still and shifted her eyes in that direction.

"What do you need, love?" Emily asked.

Helen brought up her dating profile and scrolled through her inbox.

She clicked a message titled: For Helen. Inside, a long letter with pictures of a dark ripped man posing shirtless in various nature settings.

"I need to be admitted into a shelter," The woman said.

"One moment, just let me get some forms together."

Helen gracefully placed her hand on Emily's shoulder, "It's okay I can take this one."

"It's alright, I got it."

"You have a new message," Helen hinted.

Emily paused.

"Oh, very well," She grumbled. "This is Helen she can help you," She told the young woman as she wheeled her way toward Helen's computer.

"Rayna, are you a citizen?" Helen asked holding open the interview suite door for her.

"Are you a citizen?" Rayna taunted as she entered, quickly apologizing. "E.U. citizen."

They both sat across from one another at a small round table.

Helen set a clipboard with several forms attached in front of Rayna. "Let's see what we can do for you." She left her hand on the clipboard, took a deep breath, smiled, and gave a kind stare until she made Rayna uncomfortable. "Did your husband do that?"

The woman looked down ashamed.

"We can talk to the police," Helen encouraged her.

"No. No police."

Helen lightly tapped the clipboard and pulled her hand away. "This is for the home office. See if we can get you admittance today."

Rayna looked over the forms and started filling them out.

"What's his name?" Helen asked.

"Jordy."

"You don't have to be afraid of him."

"I am not afraid of him."

"Where do you live? Do you have everything you need?"

"I have everything I need."

"Are you sure? You don't have any keepsakes or sensitive things at home you'd like?"

Helen placed her hand on Rayna's arm stopping her from writing.

"When he finds out you're here he is going to think you talked. I can go with you and we can get your things and you can tell him I'm a friend you're staying with. That way you'll be safe."

Rayna shook her head, smiled and shivered with relief.

They pulled up in front of Jordy's row house.

"You can do this," Helen said getting out of the car. "Remember what I said. If anything goes wrong I have spray." Helen fiddled in her purse with both hands.

"He won't do anything. You're here," Rayna said unlocking the front door.

Jordy walked into the living room as they entered.

He put his hands on his hips and gave Rayna a haughty expression.

Before she could say anything Helen pushed her down into a chair, pulled her silenced Shield from her purse, and shot him. Two bullets to the chest, one to the head in quick succession.

Helen pointed the gun at Rayna and peeked into the kitchen making sure they were alone.

She looked at Jordy's body and gritted her teeth, second guessing her decision.

"I don't want to kill you!" She said to Rayna.

"You shot him!" Rayna cried.

"Your boyfriend was an asshole!"

Helen pushed the silencer hard against Rayna's head.

"You will disappear!"

"They'll look for me!"

"Is there money?"

Rayna wiped her eyes and shook her head 'yes.'

"You can walk out of here to a brand new life." Helen looked at her like it was the last face she'd ever see, "Go."

Rayna jumped out of the chair and ran upstairs.

Helen looked out the window for cctv cameras.

She set the GPS on her cell and made a call following Rayna upstairs.

"Hey this is Helen. Please leave a message." Her voicemail played.

Helen kept her gun loosely pointed down the hall incase Rayna tried anything stupid.

"Hey, Helen, it's Helen. I'm just calling you to remind myself to pick up that mess you made in the living room when you get home and don't forget the cameras. Get it done. Love you, bye."

She found Rayna sitting in the bedroom outside the open closet pulling stacks of cash from shoe boxes, crying.

Helen squatted down looking at her sympathetically.

She drove her to Folkestone and put her on a train to France where a new identity awaited.

"You could've handled that a bit better," Helen heard her mentor's somber low voice on speaker phone.

Parked in a secluded area near the river she leaned forward against her black sedan looking at her reflection in the hood afraid to take her sunglasses off scared of what she'll see. "You know what that woman's been through." She tells him.

"We're not done here. What did you hope to gain by creating this little spectacle? Think you'll get sent home early?"

Helen thought of the smile on Rayna's face starting her new life, hoping she doesn't die of an overdose. "That is not why I did it."

"Still, you cannot stay in town."

Helen regretted not being able to say goodbye to Emily, "I know."

"You forgetting something?"

Not only had she blown her cover, but she made it impossible to get to her real target. "I know."

"You've put me in a difficult position. If this was anybody else..."

"I know."

"No use making a thing of it now. We'll find a way to get you back in the company's good graces."

Helen stared out the window of a moving train watching the English country side.

She woke her tablet.

"For the time being you'll be heading to Scranburgh staying at the Grom Hotel under the name Celeste Greene..."

She opened a website for Breathless Beauty, a niche cosmetic line.

She scrolled through their products.

"A brand ambassador and consultant for Breathless Beauty, someone will be in touch to go over the details of your new assignment. Be prepared, I know your reluctance for public work but you brought this on yourself."

She looked at pictures of the town and maps of places she may want to visit while she's there.

"Who knows you might get something out of it."

She closed her eyes, laid back, tried to relax and absorb her new life.

"We'll be in touch," Her Mentor said disconnecting.

Her taxi turned off the roundabout toward the Scranburgh shore.

In the distance the Grom Hotel reached above the tree line. A piece of time standing still perched on the coastal headland. Its grandiosity revealed when they reached the coastal breakwall. It towered just above, looking onward, bracing against that North Sea air.

A huge black and maroon banner stretched across the building hanging from a truss below the 6th floor veranda celebrating the hotels 200th anniversary.

Maybe being in the doghouse isn't going to be so bad,' she thought to herself, anticipating a room with a sea side view.

The taxi pulled up in front of the hotel. Celeste grabbed her bags from the trunk and walked toward the entrance.

She gazed at the ornate tympanum above the arches of the doorway.

'This is nice,' she thought.

Just then a seagull shit on an older woman walking by her.

"Oh!" They both gasped.

Helen found some wipes in her purse and offered them to her.

She used the rest to wipe the splatter from her own blouse and sunglasses.

She entered the hotel's foyer and walked straight to reception.

"Hello, reservation for Celeste Greene." She said.

The Receptionist checked their computer. "Yes. Ms. Greene. Will that be credit or debit?"

Celeste was confused.

"I'm sorry?"

"How would you like to pay for the room?"

"It isn't paid for?"

The receptionist shook their head.

"This is ridiculous," Celeste said digging through her purse for her phone.

She called the Breathless Beauty offices, got through to a human, and was immediately put on hold.

"The best kept secret in staying eternal. Breathless Beauty never made such sense. Breathless Beauty." The ad played.

"I'm sure there is just a mistake," Celeste said.

"You have something in your hair," The receptionist told her pointing at the white specs of bird poop she had missed.

Celeste growled.

The receptionist handed her a tissue.

She stood there awkwardly examining her hair, covertly smelling it, until someone finally came on the line.

"Hey Celeste, how can we help?" An energetic older man asked over the phone.

"I'm at the hotel and there seems to be a problem. The room hasn't been paid for."

"No, no problem."

Celeste let it sink in.

"You really think you're going to create this mess and we'll carry you?"

She hung up, got her card from her wallet, and paid for her room trying to remain pleasant.

A Porter approached wheeling a decorative baggage cart. He signaled the receptionist.

"Bartley here will take your bags and escort you to your room," The receptionist said.

The Porter smiled and placed her suitcase on the cart. He motioned for her to follow him.

Just past the corridor to the restaurant lounge the foyer opened up into the main lobby.

It was like walking into another time.

Captivated in old world splendor and classic refined detail, vaulted archways from floor to ceiling, red carpets with intricate gold floral designs. At the center a seating area with plush Leather arm chairs surrounding circular coffee tables. On white table cloths sat antique lamps that set the mood light. Orchestral rehearsals reverberated from the cabaret theatre opposite the grand staircase that split leading up to the second floor balcony balustrade encircling the room, a welcoming ambiance to delight the guests.

They rode the elevator.

"You know, this wasn't necessary. My suitcase has rollers." Celeste mentioned uptight about the size of her luggage compared to the baggage cart.

The Porter smiled.

The elevator jolted throwing Celeste off balance.

"This building is quite old," She said.

"Yes, ma' am. It was once the main attraction to our little resort town attracting guests from all over Europe."

"Is there a pool?"

He shook his head, no.

Celeste grinned disappointed.

The elevator stopped on the 8th floor.

She followed him into the hall.

There was a slight musty smell and the hall did not share the same elegance as down stairs. The walls needed repainting and the lighting was drab.

Her room was smaller than she anticipated and it was connected to an adjacent room separated by a duel doorway. She thought maybe once it had been larger then split in two. The furnishings were worn and outdated. The carpet was heavily stained and shredded near the entrance.

"Just set it on the bed," She said as the Porter took her suitcase from the cart.

"If you need anything please don't hesitate to ring the front desk."

"Thank you." She handed him a few dollars.

"Have a wonderful stay." He sincerely nodded, then left.

She looked out the window at Scranburgh. A homey country community, The town's busy outdoor mall lay just on the other side of the parking lot. It wasn't the ocean but it would do.

She turned the bathroom faucet on.

The water squirted out in bursts splashing all over then stopped completely. A faint suction pinch fizzed just below the sink. The water pipe along the wall began to shake and a monstrous noise came from behind the tile wall.

Then suddenly silence.

The water began to flow naturally.

She shook it off and washed her hair.

Celeste sat in the hotel restaurant near the window perusing the menu.

Her stomach growled.

She looked around for the waiter, ready to order.

A small English woman with a golden pixie hair cut, matching lipstick, and large hoop earrings tossed a breathless beauty box on the table and sat across from her.

"Hi." The Mystery Woman smiled taking off her sun glasses.

Celeste sat the menu down sadly no longer feeling hungry.

"You think it's really smart sticking out like that?" Celeste asked referencing the woman's pleather jacket and tight mini skirt.

"Keep talking, pant's suite. Just two girls talking about make-up."

"This isn't a pants suite," Celeste said touching the frills of her navy blue blouse.

"Did it come with a jacket?"

Celeste took a sip of coffee and kept silent.

"Always acting prim, but look at the mess you've caused."

"So you're here to tell me what I'm here to do? They must hate us both."

"I'm from here. Well not here, but U.K. Besides, you really think anyone wants to work with you right now, Eve?"

"Celeste." Celeste corrected her. "You left me behind."

"You were in no frame of mind conductive of reasoning."

Celeste made sure no one was listening in. "You just shot some kid because he got on your nerves."

"...he wasn't a kid."

"There are still rules."

"That's nice coming from you, your new affinity toward insubordination. I didn't blow six months just to help some junkie. She'll be dead in a month."

"Maybe."

"Likely."

Celeste bit her lip remaining calm.

The waiter returned. "Have you decided?" he asked.

"I'll just have a bowl of soup," Celeste said handing him the menu.

He looked at the Mystery Woman.

"I'm not staying, thank you."

The waiter smiled and left them alone.

"So what am I doing here?"

"Selling make-up," The woman said with a large smile pushing the box toward Celeste. "There's a local salon that recently agreed to carry our products. We need you to get them on board on how to market them."

Celeste peaked in the box. "And how am I supposed to do that?"

"Figure it out. You're resourceful. You have a meeting tomorrow with the manager of the salon." She handed Celeste a card with the address and time of the meeting. "You should take this time to figure out if this is the life you want. Stop with this savior bullshit."

"Maybe my future is in cosmetics," Celeste said sarcastically.

"These things are going to get done whether it's you or not."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

The waiter returned with Celeste's soup and poured her some more coffee.

The Mystery Woman stood up and put her sunglasses back on. "Good Luck on your presentation." She said walking away.

"Presentation?" Celeste hissed looking back at her causing the waiter to drop the coffee pot on the table.

Celeste apologized and stirred her soup.

"Enjoy." He said politely and left her to eat.

Celeste looked at the box. She didn't have a clue what she was going to do.

She looked outside.

She imagined she was out there on the beach taking in the sun, the waves crashing, the children playing.

She took a spoonful of soup and blew on it.

A young man approached.

He stumbled up smelling like alcohol and greeted her with a sloppy Scottish accent. His suite was cheap, his brown hair a mess, he stuck his chest out a little too far, and his expressions were unnatural, a quirky unwarranted confidence, like he was in some 20th century caper.

She lowered the spoon considering how well her day was going.

He sobered up, "Forgive me. I don't want to be rude."

"Then don't." She dried her lips on a napkin.

"See that man with the mustache and grey hair?" He not-so-covertly signaled to an older gentleman sitting amongst some locals at the bar.

"My future rides on me getting your number."

Celeste Scowled at him.

"I mean you're gorgeous, under normal circumstances I'd love your number, but right now, really... I just need to win a bet. I'll pay you."

She appreciated his honesty but repulsed at the matter.

"Please leave," she said.

"Just write a fake number on this napkin." He stole the napkin from her hand, laid it down and gave her a pen.

She wrote something and handed it to him.

"Have a nice day." She gave a fake smile and nodded to go away then started gobbling down her soup.

He took the napkin, relieved. "Fantastic. What's your name?" He looked at it.

She drew a penis.

"Funny," He said sarcastically.

She drank the last bit of soup and got up to leave.

He grabbed her by the arm and took his pen back.

She looked at his hand then asked if he wanted to die with her eyes.

His friend came over. "Sorry about my young chum here. We've been celebrating and he wondered off."

"It's okay. He seems sweet." She said to be nice.

"Come on, now." His friend put his arm around him and pulled him away.

That night Celeste watched the sun set over the country side from her hotel window thinking about home. Though, home wasn't really home anymore. This was her life now.

She went into the bathroom and turned off the running bath water.

She took off her robe and got in the tub.

She closed her eyes and tried to relax.

In high school she was a gymnast with dreams of the Olympics. She'd been doing yoga with her mother since she was two, so she was stronger and more agile than most and she worked daily refining her technique in which ever event she was to compete in.

When she wasn't in the gym she'd be practicing cheer. Not because she loved cheerleading or football but because her father was the coach. She loved being on the side lines close to him.

She had the perfect life. Everything a girl could want.

While at camp the summer after her junior year her parents were murdered on their way home from dinner one night. Two kids her father had previously cut from the team.

She knew them, and they were the only suspects, but only one of them was convicted.

She was enraged by the verdict, but not why one would think.

Her Aunt and Uncle took concern in some of the the subjects she'd taken interest in over that next year, but what could they do? She was so good making everything look okay.

They weren't the only ones who'd taken notice.

They watched him die before they apprehended her.

They claimed to be a different sort of law enforcement. They offered her a deal. Come and work with them and they'd help her.

"It'll never be an answer to your pain, but you'll never feel like a victim again." Her Mentor consoled her as she groveled covered in blood.

After her bath she put her robe back on, dried her hair, and emptied the Breathless Beauty box on her hotel room bed.

She plopped down to peruse the contents. She rocked back and forth as the bed wobbled off balance.

She peaked underneath.

One leg had a broken wheel.

She took the eye shadow off the bed and used it to prop the odd leg up.

She turned off the light, got under the covers, hugged her pillow, and tried to forget everything.

The Ambassador

The next morning she woke up at dawn and went for a run. She took the path away from town to avoid as many people as she could.

"You've taken your first step toward a brand new life in the cosmetics industry," she heard a woman say over an accompaniment of cheap electronic theme music through her earbuds.

She ran past a luxurious spa.

Through the windows she caught a glimpse of women getting their hair and makeup done.

If she wasn't intimidated enough. In a few hours she'd be in a place somewhat similar having to come off as some marketing expert.

She let her mind drift as the trail approached the shoreline waiting for the woman on the podcast to tell her something useful. She imitated the woman's vocal composure and recited some of the finer points she wanted to remember.

"It's not the product, it's what it provides."

"If you're not selling you're not servicing."

"Never wait until the end to mention."

"You're creating an experience."

"People want what's new and hot. What breathes new life... Breathless Beauty..."

She stopped, pulled out her earbuds, bent over, and screamed.

Frightening the old ladies walking in the distance, she watched on embarrassed as they turned around and power walked the other way.

She laughed prepared for a complete disaster.

Back at the hotel she grabbed the products off the bed and went into the bathroom.

She took a shower and tried the soap, shampoo, and conditioner. The shampoo smelled nice but the conditioner left her hair brittle and the soap left a residue that didn't seem to come off.

After the shower she put on the makeup.

The eyeliner was too clumpy for her liking and the lipstick had a strange taste to it. 'Who uses this stuff?' she said scraping her tongue on her teeth.

There wasn't any blush that matched her skin tone.

That awful noise howled from behind the bathroom wall.

"Shut up!" She yelled shaking the sink. She turned the water on. It squirted out in bursts splashing all over. She threw a towel over the faucet.

The noise subsisted and the water began to flow normally.

She put the Breathless Beauty makeup back in the box, grabbed her own makeup bag, and finished up.

She left the hotel carrying the Breathless Beauty box. She walked across the parking lot toward the busy marketplace.

Retail shops and services lined the pedestrian street, major chains and touristy boutiques.

Celeste stopped outside the North Shore Salon and looked up at its broken sign. It wasn't quite as prestigious as she imagined.

"You must be Ms. Greene." Celeste heard a woman say.

She turned around to see a tall fit older blonde woman whose hairstyle very likely hadn't changed since the 1980s.

"Marry Beth Shultz," The woman said confidently in a posh English accent.

Mary opened the store letting Celeste in.

"This is my little nook in the world," Mary said.

She quickly sexed Celeste up. "They said you were a beauty but they weren't kidding. You're Greek?"

"Yes." Celeste confirmed.

"I got a bit of a thing for Greek men, this being a resort town and all."

Celeste smiled politely not trying to hide her insecurity.

"We really should do something about your hair, though. What product are you using?" Mary asked leading Celeste toward the checkout counter.

Celeste touched her hair hesitant to tell her, "This morning? The hotel shampoo."

"You don't have to lie, love," Mary said hinting toward the Breathless Beauty box. She took it from Celeste and sat it on the counter. "That's why we don't carrying any Breathless Beauty hair care. Most our business is in hair. I can't have my ladies walking around town looking like that."

Celeste looked at her hair in the wall mirror.

"As for your other products, I just couldn't resist."

"I'm happy you're happy with them."

"I'm happy with the margins. Switching to Breathless Beauty will save me a heap. I really have been working my tail off trying to get my girls excited about you coming here, but I looked you up and couldn't find a thing."

"Oh, I don't have any social media."

"How can you be a brand ambassador without any social media?" Mary asked snarky.

"I did have a platform when I was starting out, but now I do mostly corporate stuff. I do a lot of..." Celeste made quotation marks with her hands," undercover work."

"Sounds exciting," Mary was amused. "How'd you get your start?"

"My mother, she was a runway model and cover girl." Celeste quickly brought the subject back to task, "You have a social media presence don't you? It'd be best if these women saw you as the influencer rather than some stranger."

"You may be right. Don't want too many hens in the hen house. I don't mean to be rude. I just expected someone... different." Mary peeked in the Breathless Beauty box. "Is this all you brought?"

Celeste emulated Mary's demeanor, "You know I thought the same thing when I saw that dinky box. How these girls going to promote our line if they don't have the products? I called the office right away."

"What did they say?"

"You'll be getting all the samples you need soon. I promise."

Mary looked relieved and warmed up a little, "Fabulous." She gave Celeste bedroom eyes to see how she'd respond.

Celeste let on she was flattered but uninterested.

"Look, my girls aren't the most motivated. Without the samples..." Mary shook her head discouraged.

"Hopefully I can share some wisdom and some tools I've learned that'll help."

Mary looked at Celeste like she was a little naïve. "Oh, honey. I've been in the beauty business for many years. If I wanted sales techniques I'd set them down in front of a Sandy Kay webinar online. I really just need you to help get these girls feeling good about themselves and your brand. Of course they'll be out promoting your line but truthfully, they're my top customers."

"I see."

"A little pep talk to pump up their self esteem, make them believe this matters, the 'Breathless Beauty' experience."

"I think I can do that."

"That's what I want to hear. So how bout Sunday?"

"Sunday's fine." Celeste said feeling a little relieved she had another day to prepare.

When she got back to the hotel she saw the Scotsman at the entrance. He nodded sheepishly. She kept moving as if she didn't see him.

Up in her room she threw her stuff on the bed and did a headstand to relieve some stress.

A knock at the door.

She stood up straight and grumbled.

It was the Porter who checked her in.

"I have a message and a letter for you." He handed her an envelope. "I'm to tell you the Breathless Beauty supplies will be delivered to the salon before your presentation Sunday."

"That is good news." She took a couple dollars from her change purse and handed it to him.

"Thank you, enjoy your evening."

She shut the door and opened the envelope.

There was a business card with a web address to a Breathless Beauty extension.

She went to the website on her tablet and typed it in.

A folder opened containing images and an audio message.

She played the message.

"We have a peace offering," Her mentor said. "An avionics magnate Graham Summerhill is staying at the hotel."

She looked through the images.

Surveillance of the mustached man who spirited the Scotsman away in the restaurant.

"You won't be getting any more information on this one I'm afraid. Your objective is to create an opening outside of the hotel. From there we will assess the best course of action."

Celeste was annoyed. It sounded like she'd just been bumped down to a training exercise. No wonder the Mystery Woman was there.

"We expect you'll handle this professionally. I beg you, Celeste, do not take this lightly. This is not a punishment."

She played that part back. It was the first time he'd ever made a threat toward her. She didn't know how to feel about it, it was icky. All the illusions she had about her line of work went out the window long ago, but he'd always been more than accommodating.

Not anymore.

She berated herself, 'what did you think would happen?' She'd taken advantage of his leniency far too many times. "You have a choice." She remembered him saying once. It seemed like such a long time ago. She wasn't so sure she'd have the same answer for him now.

She took the card ripped it to shreds and flushed it down the toilet. She smelled her armpits, spritzed herself with perfume, grabbed her tablet, and left the room.

She sat in the lounge and placed herself facing the hotel entrance.

She swatted her hair out of her face and woke her tablet. She put her earbuds in and put on a webinar.

"Hey ladies, Sandy here, today we're going to go over some real strategies to boost client satisfaction."

Celeste changed her posture to produce the same exuberance of Sandy.

The Scotsman walked past the lounge.

She got up and followed him through the lobby toward the elevator.

He looked away embarrassed when she entered after him.

"Celeste," She said playfully.

"Pardon?"

"You wanted to know my name."

"Oh, sorry about yesterday," He said politely.

"I've always loved the way Scottish men sound."

He coughed then smoothly turned to her. "Well I've always liked the way you American lasses talk." He said laying the accent on thick.

"Your name?"Celeste asked.

"Ryan... O'Ryan... Mac O'Ryan." He stuttered.

She glared at him worried he might not be all there.

He quickly looked away.

The elevator stopped on his floor.

He stepped out of the elevator.

Celeste grabbed him gently by the arm. "Tomorrow, three o'clock, the restaurant lounge."

The Elevator door closed before he could form a proper reply.

She rolled her eyes and pushed the button for the 8th floor.

She didn't care how deep this got she wasn't going to sleep with that idiot. It'd been a while since she'd been with anyone, but he didn't seem to meet her standard and some lines she still wouldn't cross.

'He's alright I guess. In a momma's boy sort of way,' She thought.

The forge fires glistened as a shirtless Hildebrand hammered some hot steel on his anvil. The sweat beading off his brow and dripping through his chest hair.

Celeste entered in a dirty slip. She untied the neck to expose her chest.

Hildebrand stopped. He put the hammer down and went to her.

"Oh Hilderbrand, "Celeste moaned as her vibrator buzzed.

That awful noise swelled from inside the bathroom. The water pipe began to shake.

She irked disgruntledly, threw her vibrator at the wall breaking it open.

The noise subsisted.

She rolled over closed her eyes, hugged her pillow, and went to sleep.

The next afternoon Celeste sat on the bed in her robe drinking coffee looking at her tablet.

A close up promotional photo of Graham Summerhill piloting his stunt plane upside down over the English countryside is displayed at the top of the Summerhill Group website.

She scrolled through his bio.

Over the last few years Summerhill had acquisitioned several start-up companies for technology that had corned the aeronautics market. It was the only thing she could find that hinted at a reason to kill him.

Other than a few short sighted internet comments and an old urinating in public citation he seamed clean. It didn't matter, though. They were testing her and frankly she was curious herself if she was up to it. Who was she kidding but herself? She'd felt the hurt she'd brought even when her targets deserved death and no one is completely innocent.

She looked up Mac O'Ryan and found nothing.

"So what do you do, Mac?" Celeste asked him.

They sat across from one another in the almost empty lounge.

"Please, call me Ryan."

She felt strange calling him by his last name. "Okay, Ryan."

"I know. I just don't like Mac. I build airplanes... well, no! Not airplanes. It's a bit more complicated... Well not more complicated."

'Doesn't like his name, doesn't know what he does, this is great,' she thought trying to look interested in what he was saying. She smiled and squinted like it sounded complex.

"Basically, I build prototypes." He shifted in his seat unable to relax.

"You build planes though?"

"Yep," He said conflicted.

There was something off about the guy and after listening more his accent was atrocious.

"What did this have to do with me? You said your future was on the line?"

"It was stupid." He said embarrassed.

"What was the bet for?"

He didn't want to say.

"Oh come on."

"If I got your number I could build a prototype I designed."

"Huh."

"I know. It was ridiculous."

"He'd do that just for you getting my number?"

"They were just playing around."

"Is he staying here too?" she asked.

"Yeah, we're here for a conference."

She looked around to see if anyone was watching them. This might be easier than she thought. "Well then, where are we going?"

"You want to go somewhere? Why?" He chaffed.

"Why not?"

"You don't know anything about me. I could be a creep or something."

She was almost positive he was. "I'll take my chances."

"I haven't asked you anything about yourself."

"I work internationally, in cosmetics. I'm here to help a salon in town promote our products."

"Interesting."

"No, not really."

He wasn't sure where to take the conversation from there.

"What if your boss saw us on a date? You think he'd still honor the bet?"

"You don't have to do that."

"So you don't want to show me around? What are you going to tell yourself later when you realize what you've done?"

He paused skeptical of her motive. "Have you been to the castle?"

"I've seen brochures around."

He stood up and walked toward the bartender cleaning glasses. He leaned in close and the bartender backed off. She couldn't hear what they were saying but the bartender wasn't having it. Then the bartender gave Ryan what looked like directions.

Ryan returned to Celeste.

"Shall we?" he said.

The Date

Ryan drove in circles on the way to the castle. He looked worried like they were being followed. Did he know who she was? He could be an asset, or a member of Summerhill's security? She remained calm and told herself it was just a date.

She called him out. "We passed this twice now."

"Have we?"

"When I said show me around I kind of expected you'd know where we're going. You don't, do you?"

"There's a Scottish Legend that if you pass the same road twice on the first date you might just get lucky."

She didn't respond just looked outside.

"That is disappointing." He said.

"If you think I'm going to sleep with you..."

"No," He interrupted. "I'll be more selective with my humor," He said uneasy.

"Don't try to play an advance off as just humor."

He looked at her wondering if this was a good idea.

"See, I have a sense of humor," She grinned.

He shook his head. "You don't want to play with me," he said and focused on the road.

He parked along the street across from an old Norman church.

A sign for the castle pointing straight ahead hung from a post.

"Are we going to walk from here?" Celeste asked seeing only residential in the distance.

"Nope," He got out the car and waited for her on the sidewalk.

Just what she needed, she might have to shoot this guy and have to live with the memory of him bringing her to church, a clever tactic none the less. She sat there thinking biting her lip.

They walked inside.

"Wait here," Ryan said. He went down the nave toward a short elderly gentleman wearing a thick grey sweater, sweeping.

That clean fragrance, the Romanesque stone arches, red oak pews, the great stained glass window, all the depictions of Jesus, the cross, angels, and cherubs. She wasn't in the mood for redemption. She went to look outside.

The ruins of the castle walls and keep stood out above the tree line. The weathered headstones of an old cemetery lay on the other side of the pathway.

Her eyes widened and a chill swept through her whole body as funeral bells rung inside her head. 'Good god,' she thought.

Ryan walked up behind her accompanied by the old man. "Celeste?"

She turned around feeling vulnerable.

"This is Terry."

"How are you enjoying England so far?" Terry asked her putting on his flat cap as they walked outside.

"I love it here. We don't have anything quite as timeless in the states."

"This church was originally built before there even was a new world."

"Really? I didn't realize it was so old."

"Well there's been a lot of restoration. Almost completely destroyed in the seventeenth century."

He pointed to the ruins of the old chancel that bordered a sitting area directly next to the church.

"Not quite as large as it once was, but no less impressive."

They turned the corner revealing a horse drawn carriage outside the coach house.

Celeste stumbled, absolutely mortified. Of all the possibilities, 'only a date,' ironically, just became the most terrifying.

The prettiest traditional cottages, timber jetting on stone bases, well kept yards and flowerbeds behind stone fences. Dogwood and Elderberry trees lined the cobblestone street on their way toward the castle.

"It's too much?" Ryan posed seeing how uncomfortable Celeste was.

She huffed listening to the horse hoofs clomping along. "No. Any girl would love a carriage ride through an English village."

"But not you?"

"I just feel it's wasted on me, is all."

"You're kidding, right? I was going to do this anyways. You being here just saves me from getting weird looks." He looked at her sillily.

He didn't deserve to be mixed up in this she thought. "You don't know anything about me."

"Then tell me something. Where did you grow up?"

"Connecticut." She bit her tongue having just told him the truth.

"How was it?"

"Complicated."

He didn't want to push. "How'd you get into cosmetics?"

She couldn't bring herself to lie to him. "Just kind of fell into it really."

How desperate was she for a real connection? She sat there spaced out.

Ryan sat back thinking he blew it.

"I don't mean to be a bore," Celeste said.

"No I get it. You have intimacy issues and I go getting all romantic," He smirked.

She shook her head at him.

"I just wanted to do something nice."

Whatever future Ryan had was in her hands, but not the way he thought. Might as well make the most of it, she grabbed his arm and snuggled closer to him. "I don't have intimacy issues."

Ryan sat up confidently.

"Where are you from?" Celeste asked him.

"Oh... Edinburgh."

Terry grumbled something under his breath.

He drove them through the gatehouse and over the barbican stone bridge up the promontory hill. From there you could see all of the North Bay, the white caps of the ocean waves breaking along the coast, an intense wind blowing in from that direction.

The ruined Keep stood on the mound ahead of them. It wasn't what she expected, not much more than the western side remained.

"When was the castle built?" Celeste asked Terry.

"Twelfth century. These walls and keep where commissioned by Henry the Second."

"How long has it been a ruin?"

"Long time, are you interested in history?"

"A little."

"Scranburgh was an important market town for centuries. Merchants from all over England and throughout Europe would come to the annual fair. The caste has seen its share of warfare. It's been burned, bombarded, sieged many times. Changed hands seven times during the English civil war, alone."

"Hard to believe a place that has seen so much warfare seam so peaceful."

"This land has been fought over since Roman times. The rocky cliffs along the coasts serve as natural defenses. The only way in is through this narrow path."

Terry stopped the carriage on the other side of the keep and past gunnery museum. He carefully got down to help Celeste.

Ryan jumped off the other side, ran over to them, and held his hand out to help her down.

"I'll be here when you're ready." Terry told them.

They explored the ruined fortifications. Most destroyed and worn down to the base.

"These walls have been here for a thousand years." Ryan said.

A map hung next to the gift shop entrance depicting how it all once looked.

"This is all that remains," Celeste said.

They browsed the gift shop isles.

Ryan picked up a pocket knife shaped like a sword. He stood defensively before a mannequin decked out in plate armor, wielding it. "Watch your eye, beast or you will rue the day!" Ryan crowed.

A few tourists left the area.

"What are you doing?" Celeste said embarrassed, looking at the unimpressed shopkeeper.

"I'm defending your honor from old iron shank here."

"Please don't do that."

He stood up strait speculating, "Here," He went to hand her the pocket knife. He knocked the gauntlets off the mannequin. The sound reverberated through the store.

"Shit," He murmured trying to put them back on with no luck.

Celeste snickered.

He put them down next to the mannequin.

He smiled at the shopkeeper set the pocket knife next to the register and took out his wallet.

They strolled along the perimeter of the mustering plain away from the ruins. Beech trees covered the rocky bluffs below. At the end was a commemoration plaque and a path that lead out to a scenic outlook. Several coin operated binoculars pointed out at a panoramic view of both bays.

"You can see all the way to Scotland from here."

"It's remarkable."

"Admit it."

"Admit what?"

"I kind of hit it out of the park with this one."

She wouldn't say that, but it was the most fun she'd had in a long time.

"I wouldn't go that far."

"Shush, don't talk. Just savor the moment. Let it seep in a little more before the novelty where's of."

She understood.

I'm glad you talked me into this," Ryan said.

The church, the caste, all this history of war, watching Ryan look out to sea through the binoculars, she'd have to find another way to get to Summerhill. She was having such a good time but now she just wanted to get it over.

Are you hungry?" Ryan asked.

"No, not really."

Ryan looked at his watch. "I'd hoped you might want to get dinner after this."

"I have work. I'm speaking in front of a bunch of woman tomorrow."

Ryan nodded disappointed, "Right."

"Today was great, though."

A one eyed herring gull landed on the railing behind Ryan.

It moved back and forth aggressively.

"What a strange bird."

Ryan looked at it agitated.

The bird taunted Ryan, swooped in attacked his head then flew off.

"Are you okay!" Celeste asked placing her hand on his back.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"What the hell was his problem?"

Ryan's phone rang.

"It's my boss. Sorry, I have to take this."

Ryan answered it.

"Mr. Summerhill."

Celeste could hear Summerhill on the line. He didn't sound happy.

"Yeah, I know. It's kind of hard to explain right now." Ryan said to him. "Can you give me a moment?" He asked Celeste then walked out of ear shot.

Celeste returned to Terry and the buggy.

"Thank you for bringing us here."

"It's my pleasure," Terry said feeding one of the horses peppermint treats.

He took off his cap and clutched it with both hands. "I thought you deserved something nice. That's why I decided to take you. But I got to be honest love. He's lying to you."

Celeste looked at him curiously.

"He's not Scottish."

"I kinda figured that out already."

"Good. That's a load off. I thought you might be a bit slow and I was contributing to him taking advantage."

She laughed. "What's his deal?"

"He's some crackpot from the states trying to get money out a friend of mine."

"He's not even English?"

"Afraid not, dear."

"If you know all this why'd you agree to bring us here?"

"Well it was us that put him up to it. And he really likes you. He said he'd tell you before the trip was over. If he didn't I was."

"Thanks for telling me. Is his name Mac O'Ryan?"

"Is that what he told you... daft. It's Ryan something."

She rubbed her tongue along her bottom lip looking at Ryan frantic on the phone.

"So what do you want to do?" Terry asked.

"I think we can let him keep it up for a while longer."

Terry nodded and snickered. He put his cap back on and returned to the horses.

It was all she needed to hear.

She walked back to Ryan who was still arguing on the phone.

"Ask him if he wants to come out with us to eat."

Ryan muffled his phones microphone. "I thought you didn't want to go?"

"Changed my mind."

He shook his head like it was a bad idea.

"Oh come on. Ask him."

He was unable to resist.

"She wants to know if you'd come out and eat with us."

He listened to Summerhill's response.

"I'll tell her. I will. Give me a second." Ryan looked at Celeste. "Do you like Italian?"

"Of course."

Ryan shook his head confirming it was set.

She took out her phone and texted the Breathless Beauty Office, "Meeting objective soon."

They quickly responded, "Standing by."

Ryan ended his call with Summerhill and turned off his phone.

No one spoke very much on the way back. When they got to the restaurant Ryan opened the car door for Celeste. He was fidgety and kept rubbing his palms on his pants, hesitant as they walked toward the entrance. A little boy about to get caught red handed, she couldn't help be a little amused.

"Look, Celeste..." He searched for the words.

"What is it?" She said pretending to be unaware.

"No matter what happens in here, today was good, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"I just want you to know I had a lot of fun with you today."

He was caught up in his own lie completely unaware of what was really going on.

This was a defining moment. Until right now she could tell herself deep down she was a good person. She wouldn't let her sympathy deter, it'd likely get them all killed. All she had to do was get through this dinner.

"You can stop with that poor accent. No need to embarrass yourself anymore." She started walking toward the door.

He stood there dumbstruck.

Celeste took out her phone and turned on her GPS as Summerhill came up to great them under the marquee.

They sat at a table in the middle of the restaurant.

"When Terry told me Ryan was on a date with you..." Summerhill handed his menu to the waiter having just ordered and waited for him to leave."... I couldn't stand by and let him keep lying. I'm surprised you stayed after he told you."

"Oh, Ryan didn't tell me."

Ryan sat there ashamed.

"I kind of figured it out on my own."

"I'd think you'd be more inclined to run for the hills."

"I would've, but I figured I could still get a free meal out of it." Celeste took a bite of a breadstick and put her hand on Ryan's.

Summerhill choked on his water.

She looked down on Ryan, "How could you believe that accent was convincing in the first place?"

Ryan couldn't look at her.

"That was my fault I have to admit, having a little fun with some old mates. I'd never thought he'd be so bold to keep it up. To tell you the truth I'm inclined to send him packing."

"Oh, Don't do that."

She knew she should play it off a little better, be a little more outraged. But, she couldn't hold it against him. After all nothing she was saying about herself was true. And he looked devastated.

"It was your fault to begin with and he really did take me on a lovely date. You should still give him the money. Like, right now."

Summerhill sat back. "Well Ryan, you've found your match in insistence."

Ryan's mouth drug open and he said shamefully, "I wasn't entirely truthful with you about that either."

Summerhill cocked his head and grinned at her.

"He already got it." Celeste said feeling a little relieved. "Well despite his compulsionary lying."

Summerhill's eyes puzzled over why she was so easy on the matter.

He looked at Ryan "This girl sticking up for you after all you've done. Don't you know lying like that you're only lying to yourself? You've barely said a word since you've sat down. Speak up, boy!"

"What can I say?"

"Sorry for one thing," Summerhill mentioned.

"I'm not sorry."

"You're not?" Celeste asked.

"No," He said adamant. "I know it was desperate. But, I got to spend an amazing day with the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." He let out a long breath and relaxed in his chair. "I've been so stressed out the last few days. It might sound stupid to you, but being another person for a while was relaxing."

"And when I find out your not Scottish? You're not even English?"

"Here we are," He said nonchalantly. "I didn't have any expectation. Celeste, I doubt we'll ever see each other again after tonight. I wanted this date to be special. Give you a fantasy to remember."

Her eyebrows raised and her face melted as she started laughing so loud the room fell silent.

She slapped the table and started crying.

Summerhill and Ryan sat there awkward.

She got up, "Excuse me for a moment," and walked toward the restroom.

She flushed the toilet and walked out of the bathroom stall. She washed her hands in the sink and touched up her eye makeup. 'Get your shit together' she thought looking around.

She thought about walking out there and shooting them both for not being worse people, putting her through such stress, so many conflicting emotions.

She adjusted her outfit.

'Not tonight' she said giving herself a dirty look.

She texted the Breathless Beauty Office, 'Abort.'

She fixed her hair.

They texted back, 'Negative. In position.'

She Texted, 'ABORT!'

This time there was no response.

She left the bathroom and stood outside the dining area watching Ryan and Summerhill's conversation.

She turned around, walked to the entrance, and went outside.

A figure in dark cloths lurked at the end of the parking lot.

She walked toward Ryan's car. It was locked. She hit the door and walked angrily back to the restaurant.

She went inside and spoke to the greater. "Excuse me, but there is a man in dark clothes lurking around the parking lot. I think he was targeting me," Celeste informed them.

She went back to the table to see they'd brought out their food.

"Ah, thought it best if we waited," Summerhill said.

"You didn't have to do that," Celeste said sitting down.

She watched them eat.

"You're not eating?" Summerhill asked.

"I'm sorry. I'm not feeling well."

"I'll take you home," Ryan said putting down his fork.

"No it's alright. I'll wait till you're all ready."

"We're not just going to sit here and eat if you're not." Summerhill signaled the waiter. "Can we get some doggy bags for my American friends?"

The waiter nodded.

"I'm sorry," Celeste said.

"Nonsense. I'm sure this has been a day for you."

Celeste walked outside holding her dinner.

Ryan quickly followed. "I should've just told you." He squirmed.

Celeste looked back inside at Summerhill paying for the meal.

"I'm not sorry for taking you to the castle. You had fun. Even if you hate me now this will go down as one of my favorite memories."

Celeste didn't respond.

A police car pulled into the parking lot with their emergency lights flashing.

Celeste stepped forward looking on, "I wonder what this is about?"

Summerhill came outside, "Well despite the outcome this has been rather interesting. Celeste, it has been a privilege to meet you, I hope you feel better. And Ryan, you'll be lucky if you convince this stunning woman to ever speak to you again."

Summerhill lightly shook Celeste's hand then walked toward his car. Celeste followed along keeping herself between him and the tree line.

The officers walked inside the restaurant.

"Celeste..." Ryan said trying to keep up with her. "Where are you going?"

Celeste saw a silenced muzzle raze in the bushes.

She grabbed Ryan by his jacket collar, rushed him in front the crosshairs, wrapped her arm around his neck, and gave him the most passionate kiss she could beckon.

Through the rifle scope it was all the assassin could see.

Summerhill saw them from his driver seat and shook his head.

He pulled out of the parking lot.

Celeste let Ryan go realizing Summerhill was long gone. She looked back at empty bushes.

"Well I wasn't expecting that," Ryan said.

She mischievously smiled at him.

They busted through Celeste's hotel door all over one another. She kicked it shut and pushed him onto the bed.

She told the voice inside her head she didn't care.

She straddled him, leaned down, kissed his neck, and bit his ear.

Ryan rolled over on top and took control.

A knock on the door.

Celeste threw him off, stood up, and wiped her mouth.

"Woh!" he said surprised at her strength.

She put her finger to his lips and pushed him out of view.

She crept toward the door and looked through the peephole.

The Mystery Woman was staring back at her annoyed.

Celeste grabbed Ryan by the arm and walked him toward the adjacent room.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

She lightly knocked.

A small Indian man wearing Asian dragon silk pajamas answered, his wife in bed behind him reading.

"Hi." Celeste said politely shoving Ryan in their room.

She closed the door behind her and let the Mystery Woman in.

"What was that?!" The Woman asked walking past her further into the room.

"What?"

The woman looked around "Where is he?"

"Who?"

"The fruity Scot."

"He went back to his room."

"Saw you enter the room."

"No you didn't."

The Mystery woman looked at her suspiciously.

"What are you doing here if you thought he was here?"

"Don't change the subject. What the hell was that back there getting in the way?"

"What are you talking about?"

"My guy said you were in his crosshairs."

"Shoot him in the parking lot? That was the plan?"

"No. The cops showed up. I had to clear the parking lot."

"Shoot him with the cops there? Are you trying to set me up?" Celeste said bolstering her shoulders.

"Why where the cops there?" The woman countered.

Celeste gave in, "Maybe your guy just didn't want to get caught?"

"It was his idea! What where you doing outside?"

Celeste pretended to hold back what she really wanted to say. "You don't need to know! Look, I want this job done quickly more than anyone. I don't like being pulled into someone else's training exercise."

The woman pointed at Celeste, "Then maybe you should stop messing around and make it happen."

"I am! How long have you been on this? I've been here one day and got an in! Now if you'll excuse me." Celeste pointed to the door.

The Mystery Woman left in frustration.

Celeste composed herself and let Ryan back into the room.

"Sorry," she said guiltily to the Indian man and his wife.

She gently closed the door.

"Well they seem like nice people." Ryan said. "Why'd you do that?"

"I don't know."

"Who was it?"

"Towels."

Ryan didn't see any on the rack.

"We can't do this." Celeste told him.

"You're right. I should probably go," He said walking toward the door.

She grabbed his arm. "No! You can't go!" she groaned wanting him the hell out of her room but didn't want to take the chance of the Mystery Woman seeing him. "Fuck!" She gritted her teeth, stretched out her hands, and growled letting a jolt of aggression out her body.

He was confused by the conflicting messages.

She picked up the ice bucket and stared at him knowing he can't be trusted.

"Do you need ice?"

"Yes!"

"Okay." He bit his lips.

"You've been lying about being Scottish all day!"

She stood there waiting for his explanation.

Ryan

"College is a complete waste. I tell you, my niece and nephew's, they ain't using anything they learned. I mean, change my mind. So much debt, what can they do? These kids will never see policies as good as this." Dale, a scrawny balding man with thick glasses said to the elderly Ms. Allen as he went on selling her an extended life insurance policy.

Ryan listened from across the kitchen table as Dale went on disparaging the need for college.

Unable to argue Ryan thought about his student loans, debated setting the office on fire, watch the building burn, and waiting for the cops to come arrest him.

"I quite." Ryan said to Dale who was overseeing Ms. Allen sign her signature.

Dale scowled at him.

"Dammit, Ryan!" Dale said as he drove them back to the office. "You couldn't wait? I work in this neighborhood!"

"You're right. That was impulsive," Ryan said wishing he'd have waited till they got back.

"Impulsive! You just cost me money!"

"She seemed pretty sympathetic to the situation, if anything you just gained a couple clients, so fuck off, Dale."

"Fuck off?" Dale snarled launching spittle from his crooked teeth halting his subcompact car.

"You'll never sell insurance again!" He screamed out the window leaving Ryan miles from the office.

"I'll make sure you're at the top of my references!" Ryan threw his briefcase in the ditch and searched his phone for a ride.

"You're moving out?" Ryan moaned to Gretta as she carried the last box of her things into his living room.

"Come on, Ryan. This was only supposed to be temporary." She sat the box in his tattered lazy boy.

"I know it's just the timing."

"Awe, what do you want?" She cocked her head and made a pouty face. "Cry in my arms about losing your job?"

"I really wish you weren't doing this today." Ryan stressed.

"Come here." She kneeled on the couch and grabbed him by the tie pulling him closer. She unfastened his belt.

The porch door swung open and in walked Gretta's brother.

"You'll be fine." She picked up her box and went to great him.

Ryan refastened his belt.

'She's right,' he thought. His life style not exactly what he pictured for the highlight of his twenties.

He looked through financial spreadsheets of aeronautics companies he'd been following on his computer in his bedroom.

"Just watching other people grow."

"I'm going to miss this place not smelling like ass," Wayne, a chubby black guy wearing glasses and an 80s B horror movie tee-shirt kidded in the doorway.

"Yeah," Ryan snorted.

Ryan walked into the bathroom and stared in the mirror. The lines around his eyes, his hair line, that cracked smirk, he wasn't a kid anymore.

"You coming out tonight?" Ken, a tall athletic man with tight kempt blonde hair wearing a red karate gi asked Ryan as they lined up to spar in the Dojo.

"I don't know. I'm launching the prototype," Ryan said lining up in a front stance.

"You really built that thing?" Ken said breaking form.

Ryan waved for him to get to it and stop messing around regretting that he said anything.

Ken attacked, throwing some light punches and kicks which Ryan easily blocked.

Ken tried to grapple him and Ryan threw him to the mat.

Ryan helped him back to his feet.

"You mind if I come see?" Ken asked.

"I don't know," Ryan said throwing his shoulders, rolling his neck.

"Come on."

Ryan went back into front stance.

"You afraid it isn't going to work?"

"It's going to work. It has to work."

"I want to see it."

Ryan looked at him unsure if he was truly interested.

A scale model prototype of an aerodynamic passenger pod with short curved wings and rectangular vented propulsion motor underneath sat in the back of a utility van. The back door swung open and Ryan carefully removed it.

He walked it through the vacant field to a long launch tube fashioned snugly to the prototypes dimensions. He fed it down the opening guiding it to the end.

Ken walked up behind him with a friend, a jolly looking big fella who looked like he just got off of work.

Ryan failed to hide his anxiousness when they came into view.

"Hey, this is Mike," Ken said.

Ryan shook his head annoyed.

"I didn't think you'd mind."

"Mind? I don't know this guy! He could work for Locheed for all I know!"

"Mike's in construction," Ken said thinking Ryan was a little full of himself.

"It's alright. I don't know anything about engineering. I just thought it sounded interesting," Mike said.

Ryan grinned accepted his presence making sure the prototype had the correct alignment in the tube.

"You spent all your money on this?" Ken asked.

"Ken told me this could be the future of mass transit," Mike stated.

"Private," Ryan corrected him.

"I think I read about something similar. Like a big slingshot."

Ryan reluctantly shook his head 'yes' causing him to twitch.

"It needs to get up to hypersonic speed before the engines kick. This tube helps get it there." He lied avoiding giving a longer explanation.

His prototype didn't reach anywhere near hypersonic speed.

"If you can do all this why have you been selling insurance?" Ken asked.

"The money is in insurance," Ryan said. He failed to mention he'd gained a reputation for being delusional.

"It wasn't cheap. This is the culmination of a lot of years." Ryan felt an assortment of emotions making that statement. He took a moment to reflect.

Ryan walked to the back of the van where he had his laptop set up with an open video conference window.

Summerhill popped up on the screen.

Ryan grabbed the hand held camera next to the laptop and faced toward it.

"Mr. Summerhill. Thank you for taking the time today. I know you're busy getting ready for the conference."

"Actually I'm in Scranburgh right now on holiday."

"Oh, sounds nice."

"Yes, a little retreat before the grind." Summerhill picked up his laptop and pointed the camera out the window of his hotel suite so Ryan could see the view. "The view from here is absolutely cathartic." He placed the laptop back on the table and sat down in front of it. "You're a very persistent man, Ryan. I hope this little demonstration lives up to the hype."

"You're not going to be disappointed, sir. Once this test is complete I'll send you the footage from the on board camera so you can see the flight and landing first person for yourself."

"Well let's see it in action first."

"Of course."

Ryan pointed the camera toward Ken and Mike.

"This is Ken and Mike. They are assisting me today."

"Hello boys," Summerhill said. "This should be interesting."

Ryan handed the camera to Ken.

"If you wouldn't mind documenting this?"

Ken took the camera, flattered.

Ryan made a call on his walkie-talkie. "You set down there, Wayne?"

Several miles away Wayne stood next to the designated landing area set up on the running track surrounding a high school football field.

"All good," He said.

Ryan looked over the tree line with a determined confidence.

"Ken. Keep the launch tube in view and point the camera over that way," Ryan said.

Ryan walked over to his laptop.

"Here goes nothing."

Ryan pressed 'Enter'.

Almost instantly the prototype shot across the sky directly into the path of a hawk obliterating both on impact.

Ryan watched in horror as projectiles of the prototype scattered through the air.

"He didn't even say anything he just ended the call," Ryan moaned slouched on the corner couch of a quite hole in the wall pub.

Ken, Mike, and Wayne sat in the comfy chairs surrounding.

"That was brutal," Ken said offering to pour beer into his cup from their pitcher.

Ryan passed.

"I don't want to drink. I just want to sit here."

"It would've worked," Wayne said. "You'll build another one. A better one," He encouraged.

"Did you do a test run?" Ken asked.

"Doing a test run wouldn't have stopped a hawk from flying in the way."

"Yeah, I'll just build another one," Ryan said sarcastically thinking of the cost.

"Could you salvage any of it?" Wayne asked.

Ken handed his phone to Wayne. It showed the video he took on the camcorder.

"Yeah you're not salvaging that."

"You downloaded the video onto your phone?" Ryan asked Ken.

"I won't show anyone."

Ryan didn't even care.

"Get your job back," Ken advised.

"I need to be creating something not just hedging against if something terrible is going to happen or not."

"Something terrible did just happen."

Ryan looked at Ken realizing he shouldn't have let him come. If they weren't there he'd be celebrating instead of moping. Now he has to listen to his bullshit.

Ryan poured himself a glass of beer and drank it all as fast as he could.

"Let me see that," He asked Wayne for Ken's phone.

He pressed play on the video and watched the tragic event unfold again.

He took the phone out of its case smashed it on the table and threw it across the bar.

"Hey!" the bartender yelled.

Ken didn't even know what to say.

Ryan shrugged at him.

Ken got up to get his phone.

"I'm getting old. I don't want to get stuck doing something I hate for the rest of my life." Ryan looked at Mike. "Isn't there still something you want to do other than construction?"

"I don't know. The older I get everything just looks like a potential lawsuit," Mike said taking a drink of beer. "I like my work, though. I hear what you're saying. You literally just saw yours blow up in your face."

That didn't make Ryan feel any better.

"But you're still a kid. And look what you can do. With your skill set, you're wasted selling insurance."

"That's what I'm saying" Wayne said.

Ken came back and sat down. "You're buying me a new one."

"Every day I went into the office I had to listen to my manager brag about how successful he was. Always showing off how much money he gave back to the community. His wife hated him, his kids hated him. Everybody hated him."

"Well there you go. You don't want to be like that." Mike said.

"How am I any better? All that money... poof," Ryan made the gesture with his hand. "What I could have done with it."

Nobody said anything.

"Sorry. I'm just going to go." Ryan stood up.

"No. Stay."

"What, drink and mope? You'll have more fun without me."

"Just hang out. Mike's girlfriend will be here soon. Word is her friend is kind of a tramp. You might get a sympathy blowjob." Ken said.

"Slow down, Ken. They're here to fulfill my fantasies not yours," Mike said.

"He's oblivious," Ryan told Mike. "I've got a girlfriend."

A young blonde woman came into the bar.

"There she is," Mike said.

Ryan turned to look.

She was followed in by Gretchin.

"What is your problem?" Gretchin said to Ryan as they argued outside.

"Come on Gretchin."

"I can't hang out with my friends?"

"So you're just here to hang out with your friend?"

"Why are you acting this way? It isn't any of your business what I'm doing."

Ryan turned away from her rubbing his head. He walked across the street.

"Don't call me!" She yelled.

That night he tossed and turned in bed thinking about what could've happened if that bird hadn't been there. If it all went smoothly Summerhill would've invited him to accompany him to the conference. The thought had been in the back of his mind for weeks.

He wasn't going to sleep.

He got up and got on line.

He looked Scranburgh up on a map and tried to discern what hotel Summerhill was staying in.

What did he have to lose? Whatever happens couldn't be any worse than what he already felt and going was the only thing that was going to get rid of that horrible feeling of defeat.

He sold his stock and traded in his currencies, booked a room at the Grom Hotel and a flight to Leeds.

On the flight he fell right to sleep and snored the whole way there. The passenger next to him jabbed him in the side as they approached Great Britain.

He caught momentary glimpses of the island through the clouds.

His heart was beating rapidly. He'd never been outside the states and here he was on adventure in a new land with certain doom lurking if he failed.

"What are you doing in England?" Ryan's Mother asked over the phone.

He stood in line for his rental car talking to her.

"I got invited to the conference, it was last minute."

"So it worked! I'm so proud of you."

"I just wanted to let you know I won't be home this week."

"So what happened?"

It was Ryan's turn at the help desk.

"Mom, I can't talk right now. I'll call you later, love you."

"Love you"

He hung up.

He drove through the English country side. He rolled the window down taking in the air, the sprawling fields hidden behind rows of planted trees and hedges. He rolled the window back up realizing not everything had changed, passing the manure spreader.

Once in Scranburgh he had a hard time getting around.

The hotel seen in the distance, he couldn't get to it. He drove along the coast past the south bay beach with its touristy shops and carnival rides, past the harbor marina, the cliffs bellow the castle, in an attempted to approach the hotel from the other side of town.

It didn't help.

When he finally pulled up in front of the hotel there was a 'No Parking' sign.

He pulled around aggressively in search of a garage.

His hotel room was barely big enough to fit the bed. No window, just a grading of where one had been.

He dropped his suitecase on the floor, closed his eyes, smiled, and fell on the bed.

He spent the rest of the day in the lobby listening to the orchestral rehearsal.

He watched them from the cabaret balcony.

He ran down the grand staircase and walked toward reception. Celeste was there twirling her hair on the phone. He slowed down and tried not to look obvious as he stared at her, pretending to admire the antique pictures on the wall.

"Is everything all right, sir?" The Porter asked him.

"Yes, I'm fine. I'm just waiting for someone."

"Are you a guest here?"

"Yes," Ryan looked at the Porter's name tag "Bartley"

"Forgive me, you've been wondering around here all day. I just wanted to make sure your stay is adequate. Is the person you're waiting for staying at the hotel as well?"

"Yes, I believe so. I was just on my way to leave a message."

"Enjoy your stay," The Porter said wheeling his baggage cart toward reception.

He placed Celeste's bag on the cart.

They passed Ryan on their way toward the lobby.

He couldn't help look at her butt.

"Ryan? What the bloody hell are you doing here?"

Ryan turned around to see Summerhill standing there with his friends.

"You want me to give you money to build another one? You're cracked. I saw what happened, son. Bad luck, but I can't." Summerhill motioned the bartender. "Garret, get the boy a double."

Ryan sat next to him at the restaurant bar.

"No thank you," Ryan said.

"You don't drink?"

"No, I drink. I just..."

"Get it for him anyway."

The bartender poured him a double shot of whiskey.

"Drink up." Summerhill ordered.

Ryan shook his head uninterested, "I was hoping we'd just talk."

"Why do you think I come here?"

"To relax before the conference."

"For the next two weeks I am going to be inundated with all sorts of people just like you trying to get money for all sorts of ideas just like yours. And I'm happy to listen, for the most part. But it takes its toll. Here, I have a few days to unwind. So if you're going to sit with us you're going to drink and shut up about it. And maybe, if you prove to me you're not just some pushy zealot, we can talk. Now drink the damn drink!"

Ryan took the shot.

"There you go!" Summerhill cheered. He signaled the bartender for another.

"Ryan, this is Terry and Murray."

At the end of the bar, Terry, wearing a knit sweater, tipped his flat cap and Murray, a strong man with a patchy beard wearing overalls and fisherman hat, nodded.

"Are you here for the conference as well?" Ryan asked them.

"God no. these men have real lives. Terry is a grounds keeper at St. Nicholas and does carriage tours of the castle. Murray here claims to be the lord of something. What are you the lord of Murray?"

"Your mum's ass."

"That would explain the smell."

The men laugh.

Ryan took another shot and braced himself for the onslaught of oldman jokes he was about to endure.

"I've done myself in," Summerhill choked holding his chest.

"You still want those lobsters you'll shut it about a smell, you saxon."

"I forgot how sensitive you could be, Murray." Summerhill looked at Ryan. "I see these boys once every few years and all they do is get older and crankier."

Ryan spaced out as they went on about their glory days he blinked a couple times trying to retain his vision.

"That is the real Scottish Whiskey," Summerhill said patting him on the back.

Summerhill began to recite a soft enchanted Scottish melody.

"There it is," Murray teased.

Ryan's spins mingled with the tune. He motioned for another drink. "Thank you?" He said as Garret poured it."

"You sure you want that, son?" Terry asked Ryan.

"I'll be good, I got to catch up." He took the shot.

They laughed.

"The flowers o' the meadows..." Summerhill finished.

"The flowers in the meadows," Ryan mimicked a little too loud in a lousy Scottish accent.

Everyone at the bar snickered.

"You think he'd pass for a Scotsman?" Summerhill teased.

"Take him down to the barber," Murray joked.

"Over there," Summerhill motioned. "You're a strapping young lad. You convince one of them hens to give you their number."

Ryan turned around to see Celeste sitting with the Mystery Woman. "No."

"Don't embarrass him," Terry said.

"I think he could do it."

Terry and Murray were skeptical.

"How many companies have you pitched?" Summerhill asked Ryan.

"I don't know."

"More than a few?"

"Yeah."

"And how many rejections?"

Ryan didn't want to say.

"All of them rejections?"

Ryan nodded reluctantly.

"Why you shy all a sudden? You fly across the sea on a whim but can't go talk to a beautiful woman. Forgive me if you're not in to woman."

"No, it's not that."

"It isn't in him," Murray said.

Summerhill looked back at him. "Bet you the lobsters."

"Done. But he has to use the accent."

"Yeah, I'm not going to do that." Ryan said.

The Mystery woman got up and left.

"Don't let me loose to this pisser. You do this and I'll give you the money to build your model whether you get her number or not."

Ryan got up slowly summoning the confidence and went to work.

His legs were shaking from both the drinking and his nerves. He stood up tall and tried to play it off as a swagger.

"You don't really expect him to get it?" Terry asked Summerhill.

"Not really. But this kid won't go away. There is loyalty in his determination..."

They see the woman write something on the napkin.

"He got it!"

She got up to leave and Ryan grabbed her arm.

"I'm not so sure," Terry said as Summerhill leapt out his seat and hurried over.

He came back with his arm around Ryan holding in his laughter. He slapped the napkin on the table for Terry and Murray to see.

The next day Ryan stayed in bed till way past noon. He woke up sore only remembering the night in glimpses. He sat up peppered in confetti wearing a red ribbon sash, Dux Shyvester printed in gold ink along it.

He cleaned up and left the hotel to get some fresh air. He ran into Celeste at the doorway and she ignored him.

He should be happy he'd accomplished his mission, but he was more upset than ever about looking like a fool in front of that girl, more than finding out about Gretchin, which said a lot about that relationship.

He took off his shoes and socks and walked along the shoreline of the beach letting the wave's crash on his feet.

'God that girl was hot,' he thought. Was it his ego desperate for a rebound? It didn't make a difference she thought he was Scottish. What was he going to do? Explain that?

A temperamental one-eyed herring gull defended his ground in Ryan's path.

"I'm not in the mood, Bird. Me and your kind aren't on best terms."

The seagull croaked.

"I got nothing for you buddy."

The bird spread its wings and rushed toward him in attack.

Ryan ran away.

He put his shoes back on and walked back to the hotel.

He got in the elevator.

Celeste entered after him.

**Sunday**

"We are all different and like things for different reasons. It's important that our ambassadors represent their own style as much as our brand," Celeste said standing before a half dozen woman sitting on folding chairs in the North Shore salon.

The crowd was smaller than she anticipated, but she didn't mind, it felt more intimate.

Mary sat off to the side having just announced her.

"You girls wouldn't be here if you didn't love our products. Am I right?" Celeste smiled at the unresponsive audience. "I want to be honest with you; this isn't going to be for everyone. It requires passion and drive and an enthusiasm that when I look around this room, I'm sorry to say, is lacking.

Some of the women began to perk up.

"I don't want your customers to feel like our products are being pushed on them, but I also don't want them to feel like they're not being engaged."

An older blonde lady who mirrored Mary's style and hair raised her hand and said, "Isn't that why we're here? To push your products?"

All the women nodded in agreement.

"Why do you use Breathless Beauty products?" Celeste asked her.

The woman was reluctant to answer.

Mary looked at her concerned, "It's alright Lois. Some of us are here for the opportunity, Celeste."

Celeste smiled compassionately, "Let me rephrase that. What Breathless Beauty products do you like or dislike?"

"I don't know, there is quite a selection of exotic colors for the eye shadow, my daughter's have started to experiment with. The lipstick for highlights, but it isn't good for much else."

"I don't like the lipstick either, Celeste," admitted.

Some of the women giggle.

"Is there any one here that likes the lipstick? Don't be shy."

Two women raise their hands.

"Just because I don't like it doesn't mean it's bad. I'd be doing our brand a disservice if I thought that way. It was a little embarrassing to admit when you heard the other woman laugh, right."

The women nodded.

"Instead of tearing each other down we should be supporting one another, not just for self esteem but because if this doesn't matter to you than what's the point? Anything successful at the highest scale is generated by multiple people of many backgrounds, likes, and desires. We must stick together if we are to achieve anything."

Celeste looked out to the crowd feeling a sense of pride but she knew it wasn't real. These women saw her as some sort of leader, clueless that it was all a front for international assassins. What was she doing? Pushing business ethics? She was already half way through the stuff she had memorized. She lost her focus for a moment drawing a blank.

"Breathless Beauty doesn't build confidence. You use our products because you're already confident. Exuding that confidence is important when you talk about our products. You're not just here to sell but foster relationships."

She stopped, thinking about what she just said and how contradictory it was to why she was really there. This wasn't the time for an identity crisis she thought. What identity? Everything about her was a lie. Why couldn't she just finish what she had planned to say? She didn't want this anymore.

Celeste pointed to a masculine woman in the back texting on her phone, "What products are you most interested in?"

"I use the foundation and blush for contouring. These lights are not the most flattering."

Celeste didn't say anything. She remembered what Summerhill said in the restaurant about lying to yourself. She was going to talk about credibility and loyalty next. But who was she to talk about either of them at that moment. Mary looked at her concerned.

"We do need to do something about the lighting in this place, I have to admit," Marry said trying to ease the tension.

"How many of you are makeup artists?" Celeste asked.

They all raised their hands.

"And you have woman that depend on you for your expertise? That loyalty is important. Your reputation is important. How can you remain both authentic and sincere with such fierce competition? And so much false advertising has made people increasingly skeptical of all things..."

The command over the audience brought the passion out of her.

"... and with social media now-a-days anyone can say anything about anyone regardless of the truth and it will spread before you even know it. So much senseless hate. That is why it is important that you stick together! You're not what others try to make you believe is beautiful! You're already beautiful!"

They were inspired but not exactly sure where she was going with the speech.

"Real woman leading the way of the future. It's a war out there and it's only getting more vicious and unforgiving! It's just as easy to hire someone to kill their competitor than lose a little market share!"

She started yelling at them.

"You should strive towards real admiration and not fake sincerity! There is not enough time for that! What kind of world do you want to live in! The one where you live in your truth and are authentic or some crap someone else is trying to sell you, clinging on to perceived value that don't exist!"

The women stared at her uncomfortably.

"To each their own, Celeste," Mary said. She clapped her hands together. "Now who's ready for a tutorial?"

Celeste watched Summerhill leave a pawnbroker around the corner through a bakery window in the downtown market.

He walked across the street and out of view.

She watched his position on her cell.

His marker disappeared.

She made her way across the street just down from where she lost the signal.

She stopped to look at handbags hanging in a boutique window.

They weren't really her style but the teddy bears holding them were cute and she could see most of her surroundings in the window reflections.

"Celeste?" she heard Summerhill say.

She turned around to great him.

"Hey," She said surprised.

"What are you doing here?"

"I had an event at the salon a few streets over. I saw you while I was eating. I have to admit I followed you for a bit."

"It's alright. Stranger in a strange land, it's not easy traveling alone all the time."

She looked down at his bag and recognized the brand name.

"You're buying jewelry?"

"For my wife and daughters," He took the box out of his bag and showed her; a gold necklace with silver lining, a charm bracelet with multicolored animals dangling from it, and a gold necklace with a uniquely designed pendant. "The shop owner here knows their taste and I have him keep an eye out for things for when I'm in town."

"Lucky girls."

Would you care to walk?" He asked her.

"Sure."

They made their way back to the hotel.

"So what do you think of our friend," He asked her.

"I don't know."

"You didn't seem too bothered by his eccentricities. You picked up on his game and played along to see where it headed. That takes a certain kind of understanding. You must see something in him?"

What could she say?

"Funny two American's running into one another here in Scranburgh. I must admit I like the idea of you two."

There was something she liked about Ryan, but it wasn't entirely complementary. She liked being Celeste in Ryan's eyes and in Summerhill's. There was an innocence that she missed, just some stupid kid, she envied him.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Nothing," She said. "I just realized something today is all."

"How long are you planning on being in Scranburgh?" He asked.

"Not much longer, I don't think."

"Tomorrow Ryan and I will be heading to York and then he'll be heading home likely."

"Did you decide not to help him?"

"No, he got what he came for. No time to waste on getting started." He stopped abruptly, the hotel in view just across the parking lot. "Do me a favor."

"What"

"Take his call. The older you get you recognize rare qualities in people. I'm not saying you two are meant to spend your lives together, but something is there."

"I will. Thank you, sir."

"Call me Graham."

"Graham."

In her hotel room Celeste threw her dirty clothes into her suitcase.

A nock at her door.

She picked up her silenced shield and walked toward the peephole.

It was Ryan.

"Go home," She whispered gently.

She banged her head.

He saw the reverberation on the other side of the door.

She cringed realizing he heard.

She hid her gun in her suitcase then let him in.

He saw her suitcase on the bed.

"You're leaving? I was hoping I could convince you to come out for a while."

She didn't say anything just gave him a look saying 'wish I could'

"Can I call you?"

"Ryan, you don't want to get mixed up with me."

"We can't talk?"

"My phone number changes a lot."

"Message each other online?"

"I'm not online."

"I don't need to know everything about you. I'd just like to keep in touch. In case our paths might cross again."

She looked at him wondering how he'd feel if he knew the true implication of that statement.

Another knock at the door.

She huffed, put her finger to Ryan's lips, then went to look through the peephole.

The Mystery Woman stood there intently staring back.

Celeste winced then looked back at Ryan.

"Towels?" He said sarcastically.

Slow jam Punjabi music plays while the man in the adjacent room sways erotically in the mirror. He sprits himself with a fragrance and licks his lips. He turned the music down hearing knocking from next door.

"Let them deal with their own problems," His wife told him.

He answered it.

Celeste threw Ryan in and shut the door behind her.

She let the Mystery woman in.

"What are you doing chatting up the target?"

The woman saw the suitcase.

"You're just going to leave?"

"Why not?"

Aggressive knocking and muffled yelling came from the adjacent room.

The woman turned around to look.

Celeste grabbed her silenced Shield from her suitcase and pointed it at her.

"What's that about?" The Mystery woman turned back to see the barrel pointed at her forehead.

Celeste pulled the trigger.

The woman fell to the floor.

Celeste dropped the gun, pulled the sheet from the bed, and wrapped it around the women's head. She dragged her body out of view.

She picked up her gun, hid it behind her back, then let Ryan back in.

The Indian man waved his finger at Celeste, "You need to treat him better!" He slammed the door.

"You need to leave!" She insisted to Ryan.

"I'm not going until you tell me what's going on!"

"Just go, Ryan." She pushed him toward the door.

He turned around resisting.

The Mystery Woman's legs where in view.

"Whoa?"

Celeste let go of him. He went to get a better look. Blood was soaking through the sheet.

"You just killed someone?" He asked in disbelief.

Celeste pulled the gun from behind her back and itched her forehead with it. "You should've just left."

Ryan cowered throwing up his hands, "Woah! You're not going to kill me?"

"No. I don't just kill people."

"You killed this woman!?"

"She wasn't a very nice woman."

"Who was she?"

"Carmen. Or that's what I knew her by."

"Why'd you kill her?"

"God, why couldn't you be an asshole! This would be so much easier if I didn't like you." She sat on the bed and rubbed her eyes.

Despite the circumstances that set him at ease. "I like you too," He said standing up.

"Not like that you moron!" She pointed the gun at him, stood up, and backed away before he came any closer. "I mean I don't want to kill you... or Summerhill!"" She motioned with the gun for him to sit on the bed.

"That's what this is about? Someone hired you to kill Mr. Summerhill." Ryan frowned in sick disappointment.

"I wasn't going to kill anyone," She said ashamed. "Not directly."

Celeste paced back and forth trying to get her head straight.

"I should've known," He said completely defeated.

Celeste stopped and stared at him, "How were you suppose to know!"

"There had to be some messed up reason you were so quick to go on our date."

"There's a dead body lying behind you, I've got a gun, and you're pouting because of that?"

"You lied to me."

"You lied to me!"

"Yeah, but I'm not a professional killer!"

She didn't want to argue with him. What was she going to do, shoot him? Hide his body next to Carmen's in the mattress?

Ryan looked down at the Mystery Woman's legs. "I've never been this close to a dead person."

A knock at the door.

"God! Who is it now?" She vexed. She glared at Ryan.

He put his finger to his lips.

She looked through the peephole.

"It's the bellhop," she said.

"Avi must of complained."

"Who?"

"Next door. He's worried about me. Here..." Ryan stood up. He carefully pushed Carmen's legs out of view from the door way. "Let me get it."

She was hesitant.

"At this point what do you have to lose?"

She let him by.

Ryan opened the door. "Can I help you?"

The Porter was surprised. "Hello, sir. Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, everything's fine."

"We've had a complaint..."

Celeste came up behind Ryan, hugged him, and sat her head on his shoulder. "Hi"

The Porter smelled alcohol on her breath. "Good evening ma'am. We've had a complaint from the guest in the next room saying there may be a domestic disturbance."

"We had a bit of an argument but everything is fine now," Ryan told him.

"Do you mind if I come in?"

"Why?"

"Sorry, sir, but with a complaint like this I need to see if there is damage."

"Sure." Ryan said trying to move out of the way but Celeste was blocking him. "Would you move, hunny?"

She couldn't believe he was serious. "Sure, hunny."

Ryan led him in stopping at the bed.

The porter looked around nervously.

"See everything is fine. Except, maybe, there," Ryan pointed behind the porter to the wall.

The porter turned around to look.

Celeste stood next to Ryan, her gun hidden behind her back.

"Where?" the Porter asked.

"We were playing around last night and she threw me against the wall. Remember Dear?"

"How could I forget?" Celeste confirmed.

"I don't see anything," The Porter said getting closer.

"You don't?" Ryan walked up next to him and pointed, "Right there."

The Porter stood up right, "Miniscule, if anything."

"We'll tone it down a little," Celeste said.

"Be on her best behavior."

"Have a good evening," The Porter said sternly then left.

"Thank you, enjoy your night." Ryan saw him out shutting the door behind him, "So what now?"

"Now you leave and forget about this."

"Oh, no. I'm not going nowhere. The Bellboy saw me. You get caught with that body I'm an accomplice. Besides, I have a car." He sounded more excited than worried, which worried Celeste.

Ryan took out his cell and turned it on. He started typing.

"What are you doing?" Celeste asked.

"I think it's only fair to warn Summerhill someone is trying to kill him."

Celeste stopped him, "By sending a text? Your life is in danger! Celeste was hired to kill you and now I'm helping her escape?"

"I won't mention you."

She took his phone and shut it off.

"Well what do you want to do?" he asked her.

"Ryan? Celeste? This is a surprise." Summerhill said answering his suite door. He looked behind them, curious. "What's with the cleaning cart?"

"I can't think of any reasons why someone would want to harm me," He said standing near the king sized bed of the quaint room. "Now tell me what it is with the cleaning cart?" He said defensively.

"Your company has made a lot of headway over the past year."

"Nothing to fuss about."

"Your acquisitions? The turbine startup and bankrupt fuel company."

"They both approached us."

"And that didn't piss off some competition?"

"Yes, but not where they'd bump me off! You seem to know an awful lot about my business!"

Celeste pulled her gun from underneath a towel on the cleaning cart and casually pointed it at Graham.

He backed up and sat on the bed.

"Woah," Ryan said placing his hand on the gun forcing it down.

Celeste threw her fist to strike him in the throat. He blocked it, quickly backed up, and surrendered not to excite her more.

He sat next to Summerhill.

"Situations like this tend to flow a bit faster when someone in the room is holding a gun," She said pointing it down but ready.

"Are you sure it should be you?" Ryan challenged.

"It's my gun!"

Summerhill fiddled with the idea. Celeste saw his disappointment and fear.

"Someone hired my company to kill you Graham and the woman coordinating it is stuffed inside this laundry bag."

He looked at the bag. Even though it was stuffed full he couldn't see how a human could fit in there. He looked at Ryan and Celeste unnerved.

"Now I don't want to hurt either of you," Celeste told them.

"Well that is comforting," Summerhill said.

"It doesn't matter. Someone's still out there and it's likely they know she's dead by now."

"And you're here to help me? Murdering this woman and making Ryan an accomplice? You're the one in trouble right now, Celeste, or whatever your name is. What is your plan here? I make a call and security services will have this place locked down."

Celeste went limp. "Then do it."

"Is that what you want? Are you ready to confront what you've done?"

She wasn't.

"Do you want a head start?"

"Would you do that for me?" She asked.

"Wait. I'm going with you," Ryan said standing up.

"Ryan! No!" Both Celeste and Summerhill insisted.

"This is the way it has to be. How much time do you need?" Summerhill asked her.

"Just enough to get downstairs and out the hotel."

"Ten minutes."

"Wait," Ryan said.

She looked at him.

"Good luck."

Celeste grabbed her purse and walked out the room not loosing stride.

She moved swiftly down the hall hiding her gun inside her hand bag.

She passed Bartley pushing a meal tray.

She quickly turned and did a hook kick to his head.

He weaved out the way.

She pulled her gun from her purse. He blocked it as she shot. He pulled his revolver lining up on her. She kicked the meal cart into his legs as he pulled the trigger. The noise reverberated through the hall. She hid around a corner.

Ryan opened the suite door and looked out at them.

The Mystery Woman

"Is his wife who wants him dead?" Carmen heard Bartley say through her earpiece.

She sat outside the hotel lobby wearing ripped jeans and a black hoodie, the entrance in her peripheral. "Does it matter?"

"Shame, guy like him having marriage issues."

"Is his wife here? Where is he right now?"

"Point. They come back let's get it done with."

"Even if you pull it off what's the porter doing behind the bar?"

"That's not how I'd do it."

"Whatever you say."

"I want to look him in the eye."

She jested at his bravado bullshit.

Celeste entered the hotel and walked toward reception.

"She's here." Carmen put her hood up and rocked her head pretending to listen to music.

"Take her to her room. Tell me what you notice."

"Like what?"

Carmen detailed Ryan ogling Celeste from the corridor.

"Who's this pervert? Find out his deal."

Bartley passed pushing an empty baggage cart toward Ryan.

Celeste played with her hair while on the phone.

Carmen stood up putting on her sunglasses, "Priggish bitch." She disappeared into the lobby.

Celeste fired at Bartley pushing against the hotel suite door. The window shatters at the end of the hallway.

Ryan and Summerhill brace against the door from inside the hotel suite, Bartley's leg wedged in the doorway.

Bartley tipped the meal cart over, grabbed the steel entrée cover as a shield, and fired back at Celeste.

"She brought you in on this and you kill her?" Bartley yelled forcing himself into Summerhill's suite.

Celeste got their as he shut the door.

Carmen sat on a second floor balcony above the arcade casino eating chips looking out at the harbor through her phones camera. Fishing boats and cabin cruisers moored in the shelter. She zoomed in on the lighthouse at the end of the port.

Summerhill and the lighthouse keeper stood out on the observatory. Summerhill leaned over the railing laughing having just said something funny. The lighthouse keeper handed him a fancy bottle of alcohol.

"That guy with stashman was chatting up your girl." She heard Bartley say through her earpiece. "I saw them leave the hotel together a while ago."

"You didn't think to say something then?"

"I haven't been able to get alone till now."

"You get hold his phone?"

"Yeah, you can listen."

She pulled up the app to listen on her cell.

"Well if it isn't the Duke of Shyvester," She heard Terry say.

"Duke of Shyvester?" Carmen repeated.

Ryan stood in front of Terry in the church.

"What are you doing out here?" Terry asked him.

"I'm in need of your services," Ryan said looking back at Celeste.

"Well done," Terry nudged him, impressed.

"There is just one problem. She still thinks I'm Scottish."

"Beat it!" Terry said getting back to sweeping.

Ryan stopped him, "Come on. I really like this girl."

"Then tell her the truth."

"I'm going to. I just need to find the moment."

"You're kicked in the head, mate," Terry told him.

"You are kicked in the head," Carmen confirmed.

Celeste kicked the hotel suite door. It didn't budge. She backed up and ran at it with all her strength.

Bartley held Ryan against the wall with his elbow at his wind pipe, his gun pointed at Summerhill hiding behind the dresser. "Stop making such a fuss! It's gonna be hard enough gettin out as is!" He yelled at Celeste. He watched the door rattle each time she ran into it. "You got any last words for ye girlfrin out there?" He asked Ryan.

"You don't want to do this, son," Summerhill pleaded.

Bartley took a shot at him and hit the dresser.

"Aye? I rather liked my handler." Bartley said looking at the cleaning cart. "Now she's squished into this bag. Least I can do is clean up the mess."

Ryan broke free and kneed Bartley in the growing. He kicked the gun out of Bartley's hand.

"Come on!" Ryan motioned to Summerhill.

They ran out of the room.

"Go!" Ryan yelled pulling a bewildered Celeste along with them as they ran down the hall way.

Curious witnesses hide back in their rooms.

They could hear Bartley's roars all the way to the elevators.

"Take the stairs!" Celeste yelled.

Ryan and Summerhill entered the stairwell. Celeste peaked around the corner back down the hallway. Bartley took a shot at her, limping at the other end.

She went into the stairwell.

"Is he coming?" Ryan asked.

"Keep going," Celeste told him. "He's hurt. What did you do?"

"What are you going to do? How are you going to get out of the hotel?" Ryan asked holding them up.

Bartley shot at them from above emptying his revolver.

A bullet ricocheted off the railing hitting Summerhill in the arm.

Celeste returned fire.

"Get him down stairs!" She ordered Ryan.

She pointed her gun up the stairwell.

"Why not come back up, Celeste? We get properly acquainted!" Bartley yelled throwing his empty gun down the shaft for her to see.

Celeste checked her clip, only one bullet left in the chamber.

Carmen sat on a bench at the edge of a landscaped lake. A beautiful Japanese garden lay on the island across from her, a pagoda at the top of the hill where a stream emptied over the rocks leading to the water below.

A modern business limousine pulled up off the street on the other side of Carmen.

"It was inevitable," Carmen said, sitting across from her Mentor in the back of the limousine as they drove around the park.

"You don't know her reasoning," He replied.

"You don't either. Clare said she was talking a whole bunch of nonsense at the salon. She always was a drama queen."

"I'm here," He acknowledged.

"What do you want me to do?"

"I'm not going to let you kill her. She's going to try and leave, let her."

Carmen looked away and shook her head annoyed.

"This Summerhill, you sure about this, I mean for bringing in a kid?" Carmen asked.

"Every job is different. Maybe bringing Celeste in on this made it more difficult."

Ryan helped Summerhill through the lobby. They halted as the police entered.

Ryan looked back toward the stairs worried about Celeste.

"Go head," Summerhill told him. "I'll take it from here. Don't get yourself killed."

Ryan nodded and ran back to the stairwell.

"Help! I've been shot!" Summerhill hollered.

The police rushed to him.

Ryan quietly made his way back to where they left Celeste. There was blood and her empty gun near the 4th floor door.

He crept into the hallway listening intently.

He followed a trail of blood leading out onto the veranda.

The patio was vacant. No sign of anyone, just the sound of the sea carrying in the brisk air as night approached.

Bartley grabbed Ryan from behind and threw him against a table.

"You got the better of me back there. Let's see how you do now that I'm paying attention."

Bartley's hand was bleeding. He tried to hide the pain clenching his fist.

Ryan got up to defend himself. He kicked and Bartley grabbed his leg knocking Ryan back against the table.

Ryan rolled on the floor.

"You gotta do better than that."

Celeste came out of nowhere hitting Bartley with a chair.

He staggered. "That's not fair."

She punched him in the back of the head and kicked him in the side. He swung around and got her with the back of his hand. He grabbed her by the neck and pushed her to the railing.

Celeste resisted, looking down at the rocky cliffs bellow.

She broke free as Ryan jump kicked Bartley over the railing and off the edge of the building.

They watched him fall and tumble against the rocks.

Ryan looked at his hand.

Celeste collapsed.

"Celeste, we need to go."

She looked at Ryan. There was no emotion in her eyes.

"Come on." Ryan said helping her up.

They went back inside and walked toward the stairwell.

"They're still in the building," They heard over a two-way radio on the other side of the door.

They ran back out on the Veranda.

Celeste looked over the edge.

"There is nowhere to go, Celeste?" Ryan said.

"Shut up and help me," She said pulling on the banner draped along the side of the building.

"Are you crazy?"

"You can walk out there right now and nothing is going to happen to you! I don't have that luxury."

He helped her with the banner.

"If we just rip it," She said trying. "There should be enough resistance that the fall will be relatively light."

"You sure?" Ryan said skeptically.

"No! I'm not sure! This isn't something I do regularly!"

Ryan dug in his pocket and pulled the sword he bought at the castle gift shop out. He cut the banner.

"It's better if you stay. Too much weight will kill us."

"Here," Ryan said handing her his keys. "Remember where I'm parked?"

"Yes."

"And one more thing," Ryan said.

Celeste looked at him.

He pulled her in and gave her a last kiss as passionate and tenderly as any man would a beautiful woman facing death.

She gave in and softly touched his cheek.

He stopped.

She looked up at him awkwardly. "Ready?"

He helped her over the railing.

She grabbed hold the torn banner and braced herself against the building.

"Here goes nothing," she said.

She let go of Ryan's hand.

The banner didn't tear.

She jerked it down with force. It ripped, but not enough to keep it going.

"Hey!" Ryan heard coming from the patio entrance.

He saw the officers approaching, guns drawn.

"You! Put your hands up!"

"It's not budging," Celeste griped flailing in the wind.

Ryan climbed over the railing, grabbed hold the banner, and jumped.

The banner tore rapidly as they held on tight.

From across the bay you could see the advertisement falling... and the faint echo of Ryan screaming in excitement.

They got to the car park, adrenalin still pumping.

"So where are we going?" Ryan asked.

"You're going back to the hotel," Celeste said fiddling with the key to unlock the car door.

Ryan held it shut. "They're looking for both of us. I'm going with you."

"Don't be stupid."

"Technically I just killed that guy and I'm not going to say anything so that means they'll put me in jail. Plus you're exhausted and I'm awake; I've never been so awake!"

"This isn't a game Ryan people are chasing us. They find me they'll kill you."

"Let me take you."

She gave in but only not to waste time.

Ryan drove through the night. Every now and then he'd glance over at her sleeping.

He was sure she'd leave him first chance she got.

He wondered what her life must have been before and what caused her to end up like this.

Something terrible must have happened. He felt so much sympathy. He wanted to protect her, but how could he? He didn't even know her real name and they were in a foreign country. All he could do was let her sleep. A few hours of comfort.

He turned the heat up.

They got to London just after 2 am.

She woke up with the street lights of the freeway.

"Where are we going?" Ryan asked.

"A friend that can help."

"Do 'they' know about this friend?"

Celeste admired the residential buildings as they entered the boroughs.

Ryan looked at her, waiting for an answer.

She didn't look at him.

"The less you know the better, Ryan."

"Well what do you want to talk about? Maybe how crazy this is?"

"We don't have to talk."

"Oh no, we're going to talk. If you're up now I want to know what's going on! I can't help if you're going to leave me in the dark."

"Go on then."

"What happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"How'd you end up like this?" He inquired.

She rolled her eyes, "Really?"

"I want to know."

She looked at him annoyed. "Right now, of all the things, you ask me the most personal fucking question?"

"You know the truth about me!" He said embarrassed. "I just want to know something about you."

"I haven't lied to you about who I am, just what I do."

"Fine don't tell me anything! You want to listen to the radio?" He turned it on in frustration and switched through the stations.

"What type of music do you like? You like Pop? Rap? Talk?" He said flipping though each. He left it on electronic."

She turned it off, and sat back.

"I like to talk. I talked every day, all day, with a woman for half a year and she had no idea who I really was. Then I just left.

Before that everyone I came in contact with thought I was an American exchange student, until Carmen killed some nosey kid and I had to leave that country."

She looked at Ryan.

"Knowing those little details, I still sound like a girl you wanna get to know?"

Ryan didn't say anything just listened.

"You like people because there is something you identify with, something you can relate too. Most people like qualities that mirror their own way. When you do what I do you no longer relate to anything you just see what's affective."

"You relate, you hate your job. I don't need to know you to see that."

"I love my job," She told him.

A moment of silence.

"Thank you, though," She nudged his arm. "For trying to get to know me."

Ryan saw the fuel tank was near empty. He pulled off the freeway to find a station.

He pulled up to the gas pump.

He got out and swiped his card.

Celeste went inside and looked for something to munch on.

Her Mentor's limousine pulled up the other side of the fuel dispenser.

Ryan got the chills, but remained calm.

Two men in black suits, one bald the other with his hair pulled back in a man bun, got out and walked inside while the driver got out to refuel.

He rubbed his goatee and nodded at Ryan.

Ryan nodded back, twitching.

Celeste saw the men and walked up to the counter.

They stood behind her.

The attendant looked nervous as Celeste paid for her chips and water.

"Thank you," she said to the clerk taking her card back. She walked casually to the door. The bald one followed her while the other bought cigarettes.

She walked back toward the pumps sucking her bottom lip staring at Ryan hanging up the nozzle.

She smiled at him and shook her head 'no.'

He clenched his fists and stepped forward.

The driver showed him his gun.

Celeste walked to the back of the limousine. Her escort held the back door open for her to get in.

"Best you wait a while," The driver told Ryan.

Ryan stood there as they drove away.

A local detective and his female partner stood at the head of Summerhill's hospital bed. He lay there in a gown hooked up to a heart monitor.

"The porter brought the dead girl into your room?" He asked.

"I told you already!"

"How'd you get free?"

"I was behind a dresser, I didn't see exactly! One moment he had my associate pinned against the wall and then he didn't. We just got the hell out of there. Celeste grabbed one of his guns and we ran to the stairs."

"She was in the room with you?"

"No, she was in the hall."

"What about the shots heard coming from the hall before you escaped."

Summerhill huffed. "Look I'm sorry there is no surveillance footage. If there was you'd see for yourself."

The detective rubbed his eyes. He was wary, it was late.

"So much commotion; those people must be terrified," Summerhill deflected.

A Nurse interrupted them escorting a tall slender Freckled Man in a white turtle neck and sleek brown corduroy suit. "Excuse us..."

The man stepped forward holding up his credentials intimidating the officers.

"A quick moment with the patient and I'll debrief you," He said motioning toward the door.

They left.

The Freckled Man looked at Summerhill. "He's here."

**Denouement**

Daylight on the horizon, an executive helicopter landed on the helipad above the London police station, dropped off Graham and the Freckled Man, then flew away.

"He should be downstairs by now. What are you going to tell him?" He asked Summerhill as they entered the building.

"What I can. See how he's handling things," Graham touched his belly sucking it in having not worn that grey summer suit in quite some time.

"It'll take a while before they can arrange for her to be taken out the country."

"I'll be quick."

"You've done your part in this, Graham."

Summerhill stopped and stood up to him, "You got what you wanted. Now help me."

Downstairs Ryan sat in intake on a bench with his head against the wall. He listened to the snorts of a passed out drunk lying across from him.

He spent the last few hours driving around central London. He was looking for a safe place to park when they picked him up.

His life felt so small in that moment, so ignorant to the world. He didn't even ask her real name.

"Ryan Osborn?" An officer called out as he approached.

Ryan stood up.

"Your attorney's here."

He dreaded they'd gotten hold his parents.

The Officer led him down the hall. He opened the interview suite door for him.

"Mr. Summerhill?" Ryan said as he entered.

The Officer shut the door behind him.

The lights in the warehouse flickered giving Sara a splitting headache. She sat upstairs in the office watching the whole place illuminate then a few moments later more than half would shutter out.

Soon she'd be leaving in one of the orange shipping containers parked at the back near the bay doors.

She thought about her conversation in the limousine.

She got in back and sat across from her mentor. A black man with grey hair and a well kempt goatee, he wore a tailored black suite with his collar undone.

The bald man got in and sat next to him.

They pulled out of the gas station.

"That man doesn't deserve to die," She mumbled.

"You want to talk about who lives and dies now?"

She avoided looking at him.

"You could have just left."

"No I couldn't," She humbly affirmed.

"There is no good end to this, Sara," He said disappointed.

Her face remained sober, but she couldn't help shed a tear. She'd hear her name in passing, but it'd been so long since being addressed.

"I was never disappointed in you. You're quick, but it's made you arrogant," His voice distressed. "Nothing would've happened to you."

She was guilty no matter which way.

"I stick by my choice."

"You won't," He said feeling sorry for her.

A train approached. The lights of the warehouse flickered with the sound.

Handcuffed to a chair, Sara shifted to get more comfortable.

The long haired bodyguard came in with a duffle bag and sat it on the desk.

How much was in there? How much did it cost to keep her alive?...For what?

He showed her a key, put it in her hand and stepped back.

She walked alone, hands cuffed in front, down to the warehouse.

"You must be pretty special for him to come up here," A familiar voice said.

A dozen men in suits approached led by an energetic leisurely old man with grey hair. He stuck his stomach out to bolster his athletic frame.

One of his men went up stairs.

All the lights went out accept for one as the train passed.

He signaled his men to grab her, "First a punishment."

A guard smacked the control for the hoist calling it over. The chains rattled as the weighted Iron hook swung through the air. It stopped in front of them. They lifted her arms hooking up the handcuffs to the chain.

"Do you know who I am?" The old man asked.

She shook her head no.

The guard raised the hoist just high enough for her toes to miss the ground. The leader motioned another one.

He stepped forward and did a roundhouse kick to Sara's sternum.

She coughed in pain.

"I'm your employer."

He signaled another.

The man stood forward and let out a precise kick to the small of her back.

"This is going to hurt, but you'll survive."

Another Train approached. The lights flickered on and off.

The guard brought the money out the office and walked downstairs while the others took turns target striking Sara's nerves, her employer leering on.

The train slowed down outside.

He motioned them to stop.

"Get her loaded!" He ordered. He walked out the warehouse leaving half his men behind.

They dropped her. She lay there crippled, her vision giving way. A guard grabbed her handcuffs and drug her toward the container.

Half the lights flickered off.

There was no fight left. She was already gone. No small comforts could ease what she was to endure. Her life flashed before her eyes, the last few days the freshest memories to draw from. How insignificant she felt as he dropped her near the opening.

The train slowed to a stop, helicopter rotors where heard hovering over head, automatic weapon fire in the distance.

Sara opened her eyes, summoned what strength she had left, grabbed the clinch knife out the waist band of the guard carrying her and struck him in his neck.

From the office above the long haired guard fired on her as the rest scurried for cover.

She hid behind the shipping containers.

Outside Cops take cover behind office trailers while the old man's bodyguards fire on them blocking the entrance to the rail yard.

Ryan and Summerhill ride in the backseat of a town car at the end of a police convoy.

They pull up outside the industrial gates.

Her employer's escort attempts to flee. The front tires of his limousine rupture and they crash into a parked rail car.

The old man jumped out the back and sprinted faster than most men his age could manage, his guards staying behind to cover him.

Sara peaked around the shipping container. The long haired guard shot at her again. She dashed through a crack in the bay doors.

An armored police unit sped through the rail yard up to the warehouse.

Ryan caught a glimpse of Sara running from the building.

He opened the car door, but Summerhill stopped him. Summerhill tapped the drivers shoulder, "Pull around the yard."

Sara spotted the guard carrying the duffle bag. He escaped the park through a break in a chain link fence.

She followed him though it.

The bald bodyguard emerged from the roof exit of the building adjacent the warehouse. He lifted a surface to air missile launcher over his shoulder and targeted the helicopter.

On the other side of the industrial park police engage the Old Man's escorts in a firefight. Summerhill's town car slows down to avoid them.

Through the trees, along the road on the opposite side the railroad, Ryan spotted Sara lurking through back yards. He opened the back door and ran after her.

"Don't do it!" Summerhill yelled.

The bald bodyguard lined up aim on the helicopter. He launched the missile unable to maintain a lock. The missile whizzed by the helicopter blowing up railcars parked at the edge of the yard.

The bird swung around and the marksmen stationed on the side took him out.

Sara kneeled behind a privacy fence looking through a gap at the guard holding the duffle bag. Next to him the Old Man stood at the backdoor of the house talking with the homeowner.

"I know what I said when I moved in, but never actually expected you'd come showing up!...and with a bleeding war in the back yard!" the homeowner said

"Sorry for the inconvenience, son," The old man said annoyed. "You're ready though?"

He opened the back door letting the old man and his bodyguard in the house. "Yeah, but we've been fighting with the kids all morning; it's gonna be hard getting them in the car."

The gunfire at the train yard ceased.

Sara opened the gate and went to look through the backdoor window.

The guard left the duffle bag lying in the kitchen.

The helicopter came over to surveil the neighborhood.

Sara went inside to avoid it.

"Grab the case," She heard her employer say.

Sara hid behind the cupboard. The guard came in and took the duffle bag.

She looked at the pictures of the kids on the refrigerator; a gangly blonde teenage girl, and a puffy prepubescent boy, neither liked being in the photographs.

"I don't want to go on holiday!" She heard the boy yell at the top of the stairs as his mother dragged him down to the living room.

"Shush! We're going on holiday!" their mother insisted.

Sara saw them through the reflections of the china hutch.

"Can I pack some different clothes?" The girl asked nervously setting her suitcase on the back of the couch.

"No, you'll wear what's in there," Her mother told her.

"I can't sit in the back with him. He smells like old ham, I'll throw up," The girl warned.

"You're the one who smells like ham!" the boy countered dragging his suitcase toward the door.

Her employer opened the duffle bag, "Alright you two!" He yelled getting their attention. He grabbed a couple stacks of cash. "Here! A grand each, keep it out of sight."

They took it timidly.

They followed their mother out the front door with their bags. They looked up at the helicopter hovering just overhead.

Ryan snuck up to the back door. He gently tapped the window.

Sara looked back at him furious. He waved for her to come outside.

The old man put his arm around the homeowner. "Go, don't worry, they won't find us in here. Be curious like the rest your neighbors before you leave." The old man handed him a few stacks of cash.

The homeowner went outside.

He put his suitcase in the car then went to talk to the neighbors.

"Come up stairs," the old man signaled his guard.

Sara snuck into the living room to grab the duffle bag, then went back to talk to Ryan. "What the hell?" She said walking outside.

"The cops are here for them! Come on!"

The police convoy pulled up in front of the house, their emergency lights flashing with their sirens off, Summerhill's town car at the tail.

The helicopter left the area.

"How did you get here?" Sara asked.

Officers escorted the family away from their car and set up a perimeter around the house.

Ryan threw his hands up as they came into view.

Sara went inside and locked the door behind her.

The Old Man and his bodyguard held a section of wall they'd just removed in the upstairs bedroom, the hiding space barely big enough to fit both of them. They heard the door shut downstairs.

The police captain put the radio control for his mega phone to his mouth.

"This is the police, we have the place surrounded. Come out side and put an end to this."

"The door!" the Old Man mouthed motioning downstairs. His guard stood in the doorway looking out toward the stairs. He pulled out his concealed pistol.

The Freckled man approached the police captain and took the radio. "Nobody else needs to die here."

Her employer looked out the window at him. "Bastard!" He yelled out.

Sara stood at the bay window just out view from outside. She didn't recognize him.

"It's alright. You can come out. We'll settle this like gentlemen," The Freckled Man said.

The bodyguard took a shot at Sara from upstairs and missed.

She hid in the entry way of the front door.

The freckled man ducked. The police stood ready behind their cars.

There was silence in the house and throughout the neighborhood.

"Don't be a fool! Come out! It's over!" The Freckled man insisted.

Sara heard the stairs creaking. She sat the duffle bag down and clinched her knife with both hands ready for whatever.

Except the floor lamp that swung from around the corner smacking her in the face.

The guard grabbed her.

Outside they heard the Old Man yell, "Bring her here!"

Sara stabbed the bodyguard under his arm forcing him to let her go.

She kicked him through the bay window.

The police rushed to apprehend him.

Ryan watched as Sara faced her employer from the empty window frame.

The Old Man broke down in wrestling stance.

She swiped at him with the knife. He batted it away.

She kicked him in the hip, he cringed.

She wrapped her cuffs around his neck and put him in a choke hold. She held the knife against his throat, and dragged him out of view.

"She's going to kill me!" The Old Man yelled.

She nicked his throat so he'd shut up.

She leaned back against the wall next to the stairs holding him tightly.

She closed her eyes and calmed her breath. This is what her life had come to. She couldn't let him live. She slowly applied pressure to the knife.

"Sara Foster," She heard from outside.

She opened her eyes. "Graham?" She yelled surprised.

He stood behind the captain's police car holding the radio control. "Please come out." He pleaded.

She laughed at him. "Who are you? All that stuff you said was bullshit? You knew about this all along?"

"Do you really believe that?"

"Who are you!?"

"I'm the same man you knew yesterday."

"Yeah, right. I should have let them kill you!"

"And since you didn't I'll see my wife and daughters again."

She wanted to believe him.

"I only found out about all this after I left you at the hotel yesterday." Summerhill looked at the Freckled Man. "Ran into an old friend."

The Freckled man looked back apologetic.

"Some friends," Sara said.

"It's complicated. What you've been through. Don't make this worse for yourself. Come out."

"You think you know me? Some dumb girl sought revenge got mixed up with the wrong people? You're the wrong people! If he lives I'm dead anyways."

"That's not true!"

"You going to protect me?" she said sarcastically.

"The only reason I'm here right now is for you."

Sara smacked her head back against the wall.

"Nothing is ever black and white. We act on principles. Sometimes they get crossed. The fact that I'm still here says a lot about yours. You still believe in something. You can't go back, but there is still so much more for you. Let him go and you'll see."

They all stood ready, waiting.

She pushed the Old Man out still clutching his throat.

Ryan drove his utility van through heavy snow fall in downtown Stockton listening to smooth jazz radio.

He pulled into the insurance office parking lot.

He walked into the bull pen.

Dale saw him through his open office door. He eased out his chair, pulled up his pants, and strutted out imposingly. "You got a lot of balls coming back to lion's den!"

"I'm here for business, Dale." Ryan walked up to Ken's desk.

Dale threw out his hands mercifully inviting and then strutted back into his office.

Ryan handed Ken an envelope, "For the phone."

Ken looked inside and smiled, accepting.

"You draw a policy up for me?"

"What for?" Ken asked typing on his computer.

Ryan sat down. "We built another one."

A corgi in a knitted Christmas sweater panted happily watching Ryan in the kitchen of his parent's house.

"It's homemade?" Ryan asked his mother.

"Store bought."

Ryan looked at her disappointed.

Outside a white limousine slowly pulled up to the side walk in front of the house.

"It's brand name," his mother told him.

"I said it'd be homemade."

"When did you become so finicky?"

His father entered the Kitchen.

"Look at how nervous he is," His mother laughed.

"I'm not nervous. You're going to embarrass me!"

A woman stepped out of the limousine wearing designer black leather steel toe winter boots with and a long houndstooth tweed trench coat.

She walked up the side walk past their elaborate Christmas display as the limousine pulled away.

"Please, don't..." Ryan said shamefully.

The door bell rang.

"She's here already?" his mother said.

Ryan went to let her in.

His mom and dad walked into the hall way.

Sara looked at them from the doorway.

"Mom, Dad, this is ..."

The End

