“Hm, it’s not easy to choose between these two.” Sora adopted a thinking pose as she stared at the two slipovers in Raine’s hands. “Well, I’ll take both then.”
There goes over a thousand bucks. Raine watched in half-horror, half-fascination as Sora passed the cashier her credit card. When she was done paying, she looked into her shopping bag with a smile of satisfaction, and they left the store.
“I think that was a good purchase,” she said, putting her sunglasses back on. “Let’s put the bag in the car and take a walk around.”
“Okay,” Raine said. He knew that ‘take a walk around’ really just meant ‘spend a whole lot more money.’
On a Saturday afternoon, instead of sitting in his apartment and playing Planet E with a few cans of beer on his desk, he was walking around Rodeo Drive with a rich girl who spent her money far too freely.
Is this a better use of my time? It has to be, right? He shook his head. Obviously it is. I’m getting paid for this. The only thing that worried him was how she looked, again, like walking money. We’re in Beverly Hills. We should be fine.
“Oh, look at that.” Sora wandered off to see a black jersey dress on display. Raine put the shopping bag into the Bolstridge, locked the car, and hurried after her.
Sora strode into the store. Raine wasn’t intentionally keeping track of her spending, but he knew how much she’d spent so far anyway. In the space of one hour, she’d spent more on clothes than he was getting paid to be her bodyguard for five weeks.
Holy shit. She was staring contemplatively at a dress with a $3,000 price tag.
“This is pretty nice,” she said. “But I’ve already spent quite a bit today already.”
At least you know. He nodded and kept quiet, since he had no business giving her advice on whether or not to buy it. It looked like a decent dress but $3,000? His entire wardrobe hadn’t been worth that much even when he worked on Wall Street.
As Sora agonized over whether or not to get the dress, he took a quick look around the store. There were rich people here, superrich people there, and window-shopping tourists outside, looking in through the glass door entrance. He had a hard time believing that so many people were there just to buy overpriced clothes, but they were. He saw a little girl wearing a designer cardigan point at a shirt and say, “Mommy, I want that! Let’s get it!”
The lady holding the girl’s hand relented and picked it up. “Okay, okay. Let’s see...a hundred bucks. That isn’t too bad.”
Raine blinked and looked again at Sora. My god, that must have been her ten years ago. Spendthrifts aren’t born; they’re made.
“Okay, I’ve decided. I’ll get this, and that’ll be all for today.”
Raine nodded again and followed her as she went to the cashier to make her purchase. The price of the dress was insane in his eyes, but she didn’t show even a hint of hesitation while buying it.
That’s a rich girl for you, he thought, staring out the glass doors as he waited.
Tourists, tourists, and more tourists. He saw happy couples, bored couples, happy loners, and bored loners. One or two groups passed occasionally. A kid in a cowboy hat, a man in slacks, a girl in black, and a woman in track pants passed, all looking amazed by the extravagance of Rodeo Drive. Then a young man in a hoodie and a baseball cap. A lean middle-aged man in a plain white coat. Another young man in cheap sunglasses, a red sweater, and jeans.
The one in the cap casually looked into the store as he passed. His gaze met Raine’s. Raine saw his eyes widen just as he walked out of view.
Ah shit. Raine recognized him. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach, and images of his mugging rose to the surface of his mind. The knife, the blood, the exhaustion.
He shook his head and took a deep breath. It’s a different situation. It’s not comparable. Not comparable. It doesn’t have to get to violence. In the first place, I don’t know what their intentions are.
He spent a moment wondering if it was worth telling Louise about it. Then he took out his phone and wrote her a message. He stuck to the facts and told her he was taking Sora back to the hotel.
“Is there a problem, Raine?” Sora asked.
“Nothing significant,” he said as he sent the message. “But we should head back to the hotel now.”
“Okay, but why?” she asked. They started heading for the entrance.
Am I supposed to tell her? Won’t it make her panic? “Well, Louise gave me the order. I’m not sure about the details.”
She stared at him for a moment with a skeptical expression. Then she shrugged and followed without any more questions.
Raine kept calm. Or at least tried to look calm. They entered the car, and he started the engine. He drove normally, aside from his abnormally frequent glances at the rearview mirror.
When he saw a grey coupe, his heart jumped. But he saw the people inside, a young couple in business attire. They sped up and passed him.
Still, the tension in his chest didn’t fully unwind. They reached the hotel, and Raine parked again in the lowest floor of the parking lot in a carefully chosen spot. Then he grabbed Sora’s shopping bags, threw the car cover on the Bolstridge, and went to the elevator lobby with her. He kept his eyes peeled open.
“Are you okay, Raine?” Sora asked.
“Hm? Yes, I’m fine, thanks. Perfectly fine,” he said. He hit the elevator button—maybe a little too hard, considering the sound of the impact. Whoops.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he immediately grabbed it and flipped it open.
“You should have told me about them earlier. Anyway, keep an eye out for them, but don’t get too concerned. They’ve done nothing that should seriously raise alarm.”
That’s true. But it’s strange how the guy stared at me like I was dead meat when he entered the parking lot. Raine massaged the side of his head. Maybe he was just pissed. Maybe he’s just an angry person. Maybe I’m just being paranoid.
He and Sora stepped into the elevator and went to the ground floor.
“Can I grab a cup of coffee before we go up? Oh, I’d like to get some juice as well,” she said.
Raine had no reason to say no, so they walked over to the cafe. The place was busy, and they had to wait for someone to leave before they could sit down. While they waited for her latte, his eyes scanned the faces around them. He saw no one suspicious, but he stayed alert.
Sora’s latte was soon ready, and she went to grab it.
Raine watched the entrance of the hotel. He was waiting to see a young man in a baseball cap and a hoodie, or one wearing cheap sunglasses and a red sweater. Then a few minutes later, he spotted someone in a baseball cap. Raine stood up to see him more clearly.
“Ah!” a girl yelped behind him.
Then it was cold. Very cold. Chunks of ice fell from his head down to the ground. Raine gritted his teeth in anger as he wiped the coffee off his face. Goddammit, I didn’t even get up that fast.
“I am so, so sorry,” a girl said, panicking. Sora was standing behind her with a latte in one hand, watching with a stunned gaze.
“It’s fine,” Raine said through gritted teeth. My blazer. Fuck. “Completely fine.”
Sora quickly grabbed a handful of tissues from the counter and passed them to him. “Here, Raine.”
“Thank you.” He patted his soaked hair with the tissues. Then he took off his blazer and rolled it up so it would stop dripping coffee. He picked up the shopping bags and asked Sora, “Do you mind if we go back to the suite now?”
“Of course, let’s go,” Sora said, grabbing her bottle of juice from the table.
It took his all to say nothing to the girl who’d spilled the coffee on him. His only consolation was that the drink hadn’t been hot, but that did nothing to calm the fury in his heart. His mood further worsened when he looked around the lobby and failed to find the guy in the baseball cap again.
He and Sora went to the elevator lobby. Then, with coffee in her hand and in his hair, they took the elevator to the 21st floor.
. . . .
“This is going to work.” Scott leaned back in his seat and took a deep breath. “This is going to work, right?”
“No shit.” Trevor drove the coup into the hotel parking lot. Scott carefully took off his sunglasses and put them into a case from the glove box. Trevor glanced at him and asked, “Do you remember everything? All the details?”
“Yeah.” Scott took another deep breath and closed his eyes. “That guy’s not going to show up, right? The crazy guy.”
He shuddered at the thought of even seeing him again. Unlike Trevor, Scott had actually seen Lane sisters being shot. Scott had been getting onto his motorcycle when he’d looked back and seen it. There had been no screaming, no shouting. The two had simply died—one bullet each, right to the head.
“Obviously not. And even if he is, go shoot his ass before he knows what hit him.”
“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. But I’m fucking nervous about doing this on my own, man. This would be so much easier if the Lane sisters were here.”
“Shit happens. We can’t change what’s already done.” Trevor patted Scott’s shoulder. “You can do this, man. Just keep your eyes on the prize. We’re goddamn close to our second chance. Let’s do this.”
“Yeah,” Scott said with a nod. He shoved his hands into his pockets. They were shaking.
Why exactly are we doing this in the middle of the day? Scott wondered, staring at the time on the infotainment display. It was 3 PM.
But he didn’t ask Trevor the question. Trevor probably didn’t know either, and Scott didn’t want to seem like he was doubting Duncan after coming this far.
Scott grabbed his backpack and got out of the car. Trevor nodded to him, and Scott gave him a thumbs up as he walked toward the elevator lobby. He took a deep breath. We’ve come this far. No chickening out now. Let’s do this shit.
Scott rode the elevator to the ground floor. He headed straight for the men’s bathroom and entered one of the stalls, locked the door, and put his bag down on the ground. He changed into the uniform in his bag and threw a jacket on. Then he pulled a pocket pistol and a suppressor out of his bag and slid them into his jacket’s inside pocket.
He zipped up his jacket, left the stall, and gelled his hair in front of the mirror. With his neat, professional appearance, he almost couldn't recognize himself. He stood there for a moment, staring at his reflection. You can do this. You can do this. This is your ticket to a new life.
Then he strode out of the bathroom, leaving his backpack on the ground. He walked across the lobby and entered an elevator. There was no one else inside, just him, but he knew the cameras above were watching him.
He acted as naturally as he could and waved his keycard over the sensor. He couldn’t go directly to the 21st floor, so he instead pressed the button for the 24th floor. As he waited, his hand patted the side of his chest where the gun was. I can do this.
On the 24th floor, he went to the emergency staircase and climbed down three flights of stairs. The door leading to the rooms was locked. Scott pulled a small piece of paper out of his pocket and followed its instructions.
Star. Seven, nine, two. And six, four, four. Hash. The door unlocked.
He pulled out the gun and the suppressor, stuffed them into his pants’ pockets, and shoved open the door. He clenched his teeth and strode down the corridor, passing Room 2104, 2103, and 2102 before finally reaching 2101.
He took a deep breath, put on a smile, and knocked on the door. His hand slid into his pocket and grasped the handle of the pistol. He pulled it out of his pocket, as well as the suppressor.
“Who is it?” a man’s voice asked. It sounded tense.
Does he know? That’s not possible, right? Scott nodded to himself. Yeah, that’s definitely not possible.
“Hello, sir. I’m sorry to disturb you, but are you the owner of the black Bolstridge G4 whose license plate starts with 6XY?” Scott asked. He attached the suppressor to the barrel of the pistol.
“Yes. What about it?” the man asked curtly.
“Well,” he said, dragging out the word as he switched his pistol’s safety off, “unfortunately, another customer knocked into it as he was reversing out of his parking spot.”
“What?” The door swung open, revealing a damp-haired young man with a towel in one hand.
Scott’s eyes went wide with surprise, but his body moved on its own. He shoved the young man back and strode into the room with his gun raised. “Get down on the fucking ground. Now.”
He quickly shut the door behind him with neither his eyes nor his aim leaving the bodyguard, who stared back at him with furious eyes.
Scott failed to see the girl by the armchairs. All he could see was the person in front of him, or rather, the danger in front of him. The bodyguard wasn’t moving. His jaw was clenched tightly, and his fists were balled, shaking with anger.
What the fuck, Trevor, Scott thought. You said the bodyguards would piss themselves the second I aimed at them. This guy’s a fucking psycho. He’s not even flinching.
Even as the girl’s body coiled like a pitcher’s, Scott failed to notice her. His attention was solely on the bodyguard. Scott gestured with his gun and growled, “I told you to get the fuck down—”
And then a bottle of juice hit his face.
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