Hardly Me

Hardly Me
by Alexus Massenburg

Prologue:
IN the dark of the black night, a petite young woman with brunette-colored hair walked through the alleyways of Midshire City, New Mexico with a calm, cool smirk across her pale face. The slick black leather dress hugged her body tightly as she took one step after the other. Her obsidian colored beret that matched the dress uncannily was tilted to where it covered a good portion of her face and her black sunglasses were placed on the bridge of her nose in order to cover her eyes, even though it was nighttime. On her side was a belt that withheld a Browning 9mmx19 Hi-Power pistol that was bound for a dark future and surely had dark origins. Her Stiletto heels hit the pavement in a steady beat as she kept on walking towards tonight’s destination. Tiempos Locos Bar and Pub.
She exited the alley and came to the flashing sign advertising the bar to passersby. The half of her face that was visible seemed determined and pleased at the same time, almost like the woman was excited with what she was about to do. She quickly felt her belt to make sure the weapon of choice was still there and then walked up the steps of the bar’s entrance. She opened the creaky door and instantly noticed the place was practically deserted, as usual, except for the occasional person here or there. The festive Mexican music was playing while she scanned the room. That’s when she saw what she had come for.
A large and rather bulky man with scraggly black hair and a ruddy complexion was sitting on a stool by the main counter, drinking a shot of tequila and looking at his hands. He was dressed in khaki pants and a dirty red polo shirt that only made him look chubbier than he really was. His pocket was stuffed with Puerto Rican cigars and he puffed on one in between sips of his drink. Slowly, yet surely, the girl approached the stool next to him and sat down. The man paid no mind to her as he kept ordering more shots of tequila from the one young bartender who seemed quite scared to be working the night shift and was all too anxious to be away from the creepy customers. “Jus’ give me one more shot,” the man said to the bartender in a gruff voice. The young man nodded and quickly went to the back room to get more tequila. “Perfect,” thought the mysterious woman with a chilling smile. The man just kept sitting and looking at his knuckles. Then, he finally spoke to her.
“I knew you would be comin’ sometime,” he grumbled.
She remained motionless, but she replied, “Yes, we all knew this was coming sooner or later. I regret having to do this to a former customer, but I can’t disappoint my current customer, now can I, Russ?” She touched the gun on her belt and slid her finger up and down it’s slick metal side. The man, who was apparently named Russ, shook his head.
“What’s your price?” he asked.
“What do you mean by that, Russ? Do you honestly think I am willing to be bribed out of killing you? I thought you knew me better than that. No, I don’t have a price, only a reputation to uphold, and I am not willing to give that up,” she said.
Russ muttered something under his breath. Then he said, “I’ll pay you double whatever he’s payin’ ya.”
She shook her head. “You can’t buy a reputation like I have. My name is known across alleyways everywhere for whenever someone needs a dirty deed done; yet I’m untraceable. I refuse to give that up, even for you. I do rather wish it didn’t have to go down this way though.” She grabbed her gun and started cocking it. Russ finally began showing some fear.
“You don’t have to do this, now. C’mon and just take the money. I…I’ll do anything. Just don’t do this,” he said frantically.
“Sorry Russ,” she said as she brought the gun up. Russ got up and began running towards the door of the bar, but she quickly and swiftly shot him in the back of the head. His heavy body hit the floor with a thudding sound and the young bartender rushed out to see what had happened while he had been cowering in the back room. He looked around, but all he saw was the mottled body of Russ on the floor and smelled the scent of fresh gun smoke in the air.


Chapter 1:

Nicole awoke to fins herself in her 2008 Ford Flex. She sighed and rolled over on to her Browning 9mmx19 Hi-Power pistol. She opened her eyes into tiny slits as she wrapped her hand around it. She wondered how her father’s pistol got into her car. She opened her eyes in realization of what had happened.
She looked around. 234 Danvers Street. She was only two blocks away from the bar. She quickly shifted into the driving position and turned on her engine. She checked her clock. 8:56 a.m. she sighed and pushed her foot down. She started driving to her home on Wayward Drive. She shook her head and thought of how her mother was going to react.
At 9:29 she pulled up into her driveway. She decided to walk through the front door and face the consciences head on. She unlocks the door to hear nothing but her father snoring and my mother humming a bright tune in the kitchen. She sticks the pistol into her book bag and walk through the door.
She instantly smells Christmas dinner in the making. She smelled the collard greens and the Ham. She walked to her room and throws the bag into her closet. She walks back out to the main hall and then turns a 60-degree angle to the left and heads towards the kitchen.
She walks over to her mother and says “ Hello”. She expects a fussing maybe even cussing but she hears none of that.
“ O Nicole you are early. How was your trip to Florida?” Her mother says in her usual cheery greeting.
She sighs and sits down her head spinning. What is going on? She had never been to Florida but her mother seems to think She had been. She had to find out.
“Uh how long was I gone? I mean Midshire City, New Mexico and Orlando, Florida has different times and I am so forgetful nowadays. “ She gives her a big smile.
She sighed. “ About Three weeks. I have missed you for three weeks. How come you don’t remember?”
She closes her eyes and a tear runs down my cheek.
“ I have no idea.” She whispers. She feels so stupid. Ever since her twin sister Mary Anne, had died she has been completely lost. She feels like she am no longer her self.
I look at my sister’s poems on the refrigerator and sighed. We were totally opposites. I am introvert while she was extrovert and WILD!
That is how she died. She always loved danger. Killing, sex and drugs. So she owed a few people, shot a few too and soon she was among the dead.
Her poems explained her a lot if you look closely. I see her favorite poem. The one she made the night she died.
It looks like this:

GOOD GIRLS
ARE MADE WITH SUGAR AND SPICE
BAD GURLS
ARE MADE WITH VOKA AND ICE!

I look over at my poems:

Dance: AS IF NO ONE IS WATCHING
Love: AS IF YOU HAVE NEVER BEEN HURT BEFORE
Sing: AS IF NO ONE IS LISTENING
Live: AS IF HEAVEN ON EARTH