"Tía, why can't we do this next week?" I whined, leaned back on plush white seats with the grey clouds, darkened by the night, beside my window. "I'm starting school tomorrow, and I really would prefer to have a clear head."
"Sobrina, dear, we've talked about this, yeah?" My half-lidded eyes turned to my aunt, her tall and agile figure sat with one leg over the other on her seat. "Besides, you're already mostly ready for school."
"Yes, but I still need to get that hand-pistol that's compatible with my rubber-bullets." I told her, sliding down my chair, the soft fabric preventing discomfort.
"Well you should have done that earlier," She shook her head, frizzy curls moving as she did. "or maybe your mamá and papá might have some." I simply frowned at her, the adult chuckling in response. "Don't worry! We're flying private, so we should be in L.A. and back quickly; you know how it goes."
I decided not to think much more about escaping the matter, knowing that it had already been two months since I had flown out to see them.
"Ah! My mija is all grown-up!" I yawned as the familiar woman ran towards me, tall black stilettos rushing down the white marble stair-case leading off the mini-palace. "Look at her, gordo! Hasn't she grown so tall?" I am only five foot six. The lady, in all her flattery, is the true embodiment of a con; her seemed-white suit trousers and blazer with her plain black shirt and golden belt sold the look of 'business', added to by her designer shades that rested atop of her fresh blow-out, yet truly she and her husband were so much less.
"Yes, amorcita, our little Angela has certainly gained some height since we last saw her." The man, in all his gallantry, is the perfect model of a locked-room mystery; his ironed gold-striped black button-up tucked just enough into his black dress-trousers, white loafers contrasting to the rest of his fit, and wavy hair slicked back into an ivy-league cut. Though upon first glance, there's an obvious explanation to the who and where of these figures, but the lies they live off and money they feed off connect to a string that winds so much further down.
"Gabriela, Hermana, how have you been?" The woman, now resting a hand on my lower arm, took my aunt's. "Is my mija behaving herself?"
"Yes, Camila, your daughter and I have been well, despite however she may act." I always stayed quiet on these visits, allowing my Tía to take all my conversations. Gabriela, tanned skin complimenting her cream and gold-belted jumpsuit, and partially brushed-out curls styled perfectly, is the only woman currently, and hopefully will always be, aware of my connection to this con lady and her 'locked-room mystery' of a husband.
'The Angelas'.
Esteemed for their large gains in the pharmaceutical industry; drugs and pills manufactured in their many warehouses, but that was only a cover for their true business. The one that hid in behind the curtains of their set stage, which they loved to act on, living out their parts to the point of the knife.
"Good, good!" Mr Angela smiled, clapping his hands as his wife slid her arms through mine. "Let's head up now, shall we?"
'Finally… my-!'
I belly-flopped onto my bed, slowly engulfed by the thick-warmth of the duvet. After simply allowing myself to be consumed by my sheets, I groaned into the blanket. "I still need to get the pistol…"
Forcing myself to climb out, and not bothering to change out of my night trousers and shirt, I pulled my arms through a dark puffer jacket and my feet into some white trainers. "Tía! I'm gonna head out for a few!" I called out into our apartment, my hand at the door handle.
"You got your phones?"
"Ah-!" After running back-and-fro' from my room, I finally headed out into the late eight-pm darkness.
It was not often that I got to get a complete sleep in my own bed; late excursions, part-time jobs, sometimes just too awake from my messed-up sleep schedule. My feet walked on their own to the store - really legal but apparently holding some connection to some street gang.
The entrance shut quietly behind me and I then began to browse the shop, an array of licensable weaponry all showcased around me.
"Excuse me, Sir?" The bulky cashier at the counter, back and front completely filled with familiar tattoos. "I wanna purchase this pistol." I maintained a neutral expression as he scrutinised my appearance, checking the pistol before my I.D.
"Aren't ya' a little too young to be walking around with one of these?" He asked me, voice coarse and croaky like a chainsmoker's and eyes piercing as if he had already figured me out. I only shrugged, skimming my eyes around me before inserting my card into the machine slot he pointed in my direction. "Let's cut to the chase, kid." My eyes glanced for a moment at the hand-gun pointed to the side of my face by a new stranger, then turning to my pistol, putting it into my pocket. "Or little Miss Angela."
"Hmm?"
"I wonder how much money your parents would be willing to pay if we beat you up a little and locked you up with some gun-powder on a ship." The second person stated, a smirk working its way across his face.
"Do all villains blurt out their plans before actually fulfilling them?" I raised an eyebrow, both hands in my coat pocket as I shook my head. "You know, 'Man maketh his plans, but it is the Lord that establishes them'."
"Religious, are ya'?"
"Nah, just faithful." Without sparing another moment, I dropped to the ground, sweeping my leg into the ankles of the armed man, shooting him with a rubber bullet. "Thanks for your service; I'll be sure to leave a good review above one of your Freeway tags." I snickered, sprinting out the shop and down the street, not taking long to notice the group of five - or maybe six - men chasing after me. Swiping out a phone with a lilypad cartoonly designed on the back of the case, I hurriedly started typing up onto google.
"Plaaceess neear mee thaat arrre cloosed…" After seeing the first option, an ice-rink that was meant to have been closed since 5pm as it was Sunday, that was only around the corner, I immediately quickened my pace, swerving behind the building at the end of the street.
"Hey! Don't let her get out of sight!"
Verifying that the lights were off in the front lobby, using a bobby pin from my hair and my God-given patience, I picked the lock of a window, climbing through just before the gang on my tail could spot me - the dark helping me to keep cover.
First moving from the view of the windows, I switched on my phone torch, the light catching ice-skates of various colours and sizes, as well as other equipment I couldn't put a name to. Finding a set of stairs that led down, I followed them until I came to a door with a 'Staff Only' sign along the top. Continuing down that corridor, the framed images and steadily shelved accolades of seemingly past competitors in the sport watched as I passed them, for a moment - and only a moment - distracting my mind from the situation at hand. "I need to hurry up and find another exit…!" It was then that I heard the violent opening up of the roller shutters at the entrance and boomy voices accompanied by heavy steps from above me.
In a slightly panicked frenzy, I opened door-after-door along the hallway, adrenaline building up inside me after each one. "Exit… exit…exit-" I paused, my heart that was racing now coming to a calm steadiness and my whole senses now latching onto this one thing, or rather person. Her every glide, stride, swirl, leap, swing gave me goosebumps; enthralling my attention by her perfectly orchestrated motions. The lights in the floor of the circular rink allowed me to see her completely with the exception of her face; ebony silky hair twirling in step with the skater whilst helping to obscure it. The figure, movements on the ice so captivating, that I nearly missed the fist that flew past my right ear.
My grasp immediately curled around his arm, flinging the bulky gangster over my shoulder and his body ricottaching off the ground. It didn't take long for about two more of them to come my way, me ducking from their swings and shooting all three of them in the leg, their yelps making their way up to the few others upstairs.
"Sh-She's dow-n here!" One of the injured men cried out. Not wanting to have to take on any more than I had to, I was about to run around the rink to the large 'Emergency Exit' door on the opposite side of the room when I remembered that I wasn't alone.
"Umm, well- quite the funny dilemma, right?" I started, bouncing on my feet as I awkwardly smiled. "I'm sorry to impose on your session, but just so you know, I didn't really 'shoot' those guys over there, and neither did I do anything wrong." The loud sound of footsteps coming down the stairs reminded me that I didn't have time to waste. "Anyways, I know we just met, but I would really appreciate it - and I know you would too - if you would follow me out-" Noticing that there was no response, her chestnut eyes staring fixedly into mine and slender form stiff, I realised- "Ah, she's in shock." Not sparing another moment, I slid across the ice, attempting not to land on my face, as the sound of voices got closer. "Hey, hey! We've got to move!" Only a second before I could shout again, my arm was grasped and I was dragged swiftly across the rink, getting nearer to the exit.
"When we get out, I want an explanation." Blinking at the skater's tone, I gave her a curt nod, us finally reaching the edge of the ice and her flinging off her skates in exchange for black slip-ons.
Just as we opened the door, the one to the entrance of the room did too, the familiarly tattooed man raising his gun toward us, forcing us both downwards. As the exit shut behind us, a long winding trail of stairs loomed above us, me and the skater glancing at one another as we made our way upwards.
"So, please, start explaining." The stranger commanded me behind her as I tried to maintain a shared watch on the steps in front of me and the door below.
"I thought you said after we got out."
"I changed my mind." With a sigh, I was about to think of where to start when the sudden pummeling of feet below us caused us both to go quicker.
"Sorry, but that'll have to wait."
Finally reaching the top, my companion pushed open the door, the cool breeze of the night air blowing in, and my pace speeding up as I noticed something the girl clearly didn't, or was maybe too late to.
"Quick aren't ya, little Angela?" I kept a straight face, catching my new opponent's fist. The skater girl, frozen on the spot for a moment, rushed to get out of the way, but was stopped by a second man. "Not nice of you to drag someone else into your mess."
"It's not my mess." I argued, taking out the device from earlier, I quickly dialed '911' and left it to ring out before taking off the lilypad case and placing the phone on the ground. "And I'm sorry for dragging her into it."
"Trying to get the cops on us? We're going to be looong gone by then -" I sighed, both men now lying on the floor, unconscious but breathing.
"Again with all these presumptuous plans." I shook my head as my companion stared at me.
"Now, can you please tell me what is going on?!"
"Hold on." It only took a second for me to take out the men behind us, the cashier letting out a variety of profanious words towards me. "We should get going now." I told the girl, putting both my hands in my pocket and heading back the way I came.
"H-hey, wait!"
"Hmm?" I allowed the skater to catch up with me before beginning my stride again, the sound of distant blares becoming all the more clearer.
"Why were they chasing you, and why do you seem so used to it?" Her dark eyes paced my entire figure, her pale skin made golden under the filament street lamps as we passed. "And, why the pyjamas?"
"... they're a gang, Freeway, and are only one of the many who have mistaken my identity for the daughter of the second-largest money-launderers in the states." I began, choosing my words carefully. "They think that if they can take me hostage, they can get a large check from these infamous Angelas." It was then I looked down at my attire. "And the PJs? Not important..."
There was silence for a while between us, the girl seemingly questioning the veracity of what I had just told her.
"Do you… know you're real parents?" I nearly, nearly, stopped in my step. 'Do I know my parents?' I thought back to that con-of-a-lady and her locked-room-mystery of a husband, both of them so much less than what they allow the eyes of others to make out.
"No. I don't know my real parents, but I was raised by my aunt my entire life, adopting her beliefs, skills, and many other things that I'm grateful for."
"I see… I am sorry for intruding." The girl apologised, dipping her head a little in my direction. "I'm Hayashi Akira, nice to meet you."
"Lucía Hester, and it's a pleasure to meet you too - well, not on the circumstances, but still." I smiled, a sudden wave of tiredness taking over me as I felt an urge to stretch my limbs.
It was then a black Cadillac parked on the curb beside us, the driver's side window winding down and the face of an older man clear on the other side. He began speaking in another tongue to the girl, Akira, which I'm assuming to be Japanese before she then went to open the door to the back of the vehicle.
"Until we meet again?" She turned back to me.
"Yeah, if fate allows it."
I watched as she drove off, a yawn escaping my mouth and now wondering if fate would allow us to meet again, but I could ponder all of that from the sweet comfort of my own bed.
.
.
.
I stared. She stared back.
"Now, please welcome our two new students warmly and make sure they feel welcomed here at S.F.G.P.S." Our home room teacher, Mrs Forbes, told the class, Akira and I were frozen, both seemingly not expecting fate to bring us together again so soon…
.
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