Cranberry Lane

by Laurèn Lee

  “Yeah, sure. Let’s go.”

  “Where are you going?” One girl whined.

  “I’ll be back,” he promised and patted her on the head.

  The girl shot me a look of contempt as though I’d just stolen her favorite toy. I returned her glare with a wink, because I’m an asshole like that.

  We stepped down the bleachers together amid the crowd who cheered and whooped loudly for their respective teams. East had scored. There weren’t many West fans, but you could easily pick them out in the crowd; they were the ones who looked like they hadn’t showered in a week and would beat your ass if you looked at them sideways.

  “What’s your name?” the overly primped teen asked me.

  “Jessica,” I responded quickly. It was my code name. Couldn’t be out giving all these kids my real name, could I?

  “I’m Noah,” he replied proudly.

  “Yeah. Cool.”

  “Do you come to these games often?”

  “Dude, I’m not sleeping with you.”

  I’m just trying to sell you overpriced coke.

  “Okay, okay. Just trying to make casual conversation,” he said as he ran his hands through his slick black hair.

  We’d trekked into some trees about a hundred yards away from the football field near the bathrooms. I pulled out a dollar bill from my wallet.

  “Here,” I offered. “Roll this tightly.”

  Noah looked at me curiously.

  “You have done this before, right?”

  “Oh, yeah. Loads of times.” His voice cracked.

  I shook my head. “All right. Just roll it like this. Got it?”

  “Yeah, duh.”

  I pulled a baggie out of my backpack and poured the tiniest pinch onto my wrist. I took out a razor blade, too.

  “Woah, what are you going to do with that?”

  “Calm down, Pablo Escobar. I need to make sure it’s in a neat line for you.”

  He nodded and continued holding the dollar bill tightly in his hands.

  “Ready?”

  “You want me to do a line off your wrist?”

  “Sorry, I left my portable coffee table at home.” I rolled my eyes.

  Noah looked at me pleadingly; this was his first time. He’d talked tough in front of his friends, but seemed terrified.

  “Will it hurt?” he asked sheepishly.

  “It will probably sting your nose a little, but it’s the post nasal drip that’s a bitch. Go ahead.” I pushed my wrist right below his nose.

  Carefully, Noah inserted the rolled dollar bill into his right nostril, took a deep breath and snorted the white powder off my wrist.

  He coughed and fiercely itched his nose. After a few seconds though, his eyes grew wide and a silly smile stretched across his face still not mature enough to grow a beard.

  “You like?”

  He nodded vigorously.

  I held out my hand expectantly.

  “Oh yeah!” He pulled out his wallet and I had to fight the temptation to take the whole damn thing and run. Noah handed me several bills, and the rolled up single.

  “You can keep that.” I wrinkled my nose.

  “So, you going to come party with us later?”

  “Depends,” I began. “Do you have friends who will want to buy?”

  “Yeah, definitely!”

  “Then, I’ll be there. What’s the address?”

  “Here, I’ll text it to you,” he offered.

  “I’m not giving you my number.” I snarked.

  “You need to lighten up,” he said with his pupils fully expanded.

  “Ugh. Fine. Gimme your phone, I’ll put it in.”

  Noah thrust his phone into my hands and I created a new contact for myself, under the name Jessica, of course. Hopefully, I wouldn’t regret giving this twerp my information.

  “Here ya go. Now, you can text me the address. What time are you going?”

  “Well, don’t you want to hang out with us for the rest of the game?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “It will be fun! You’ll like my friends!”

  “Which ones? The other future frat bro’s, or the chicks who look like their hair would catch fire near an open flame?”

  “Live a little, Jessica! It’s going to be a great night!”

  Yup. He is definitely high.

  “Hard pass, but thanks. I’ll see you later.”

  Noah blew me a kiss and started walking back to the bleachers.

  “Oh, and Noah?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t go blabbing to all your buddies about me, okay? Be discreet.”

  “Anything for you.” He winked.

  15

  Wayne

  Fuck; there’s a kid.

  I wasn’t expecting there to be anyone else home. Whenever I got the call for my next assignment, I always assumed the target would be alone unless stated otherwise. No spouse, no children, no friends. Who fucked up the preliminary research and forgot to notate there’d be a damn kid home? What would I do now?

  Option one: bail and tell my boss what happened. Option two: go inside and kill my target as planned and leave a child to fend for itself. Or, option three: kill them both.

  I shuddered at the thought. Even though I killed people for a living, I could never take a child’s life. It is the world’s most violent and cruel crime possible. A child hasn’t even lived long enough to deserve ill will. I had a rule: never kill a kid.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

  I punched the air as I stood in limbo between running and entering.

  If I ran, my boss would surely be pissed. I’d never disappointed him, and I didn’t want to start now. However, If I followed through, that’d mean a little baby would lose a parent. It’d mean a parent would never see their child grow up. No kindergarten pictures. No graduations. No weddings. No grandkids.

  I’d never been so torn. So, I did what any rational person would do; I flipped a coin. Heads I’d go in and tails I’d go home. I took my lucky dime out of my boot and tossed it anxiously into the air. I used a little too much veracity as the coin landed in the grass and out of sight.

  Are you fucking kidding me?

  If anyone watched me, they’d wonder what the hell kind of drugs I was on to be dressed in all black and crawling around in the grass looking for a damn dime.

  Suddenly, I felt the cool metallic coin against my skin. Without disturbing it or unintentionally flipping it, I removed my hand to see what the universe wanted me to do.

  It was heads.

  I sighed heavily, and my shoulders sagged. I had a job to carry out. I took a deep breath, twisted the doorknob, and entered the house.

  The kitchen screamed “TLC Network” with its pristine marble countertop and floral curtains. A wine rack hung on the wall and stored bottles I had no business trying to pronounce. Maybe I’d take one after this, though. I’d need a drink.

  I pulled out my .42 and pulled down my mask. I wasn’t Wayne anymore; I was a lethal hitman.

  A children’s television show cooed from an upstairs room, presumably the nursery or playroom. I tip-toed across the kitchen floor and into the living room. I couldn’t help but notice the elegant and professional family photos on the fireplace.

  Not only were there newborn photos of a precious little girl, but there were several photos of a handsome couple with two other children, both appeared to be under ten years old: a boy and a girl.

  My heart sank even deeper. By the car in the driveway, a Kia Sedona, I figured it had to be the mother upstairs with the baby, not the husband. The other children were probably out with the father. What would they come home to find?

  “Who’s a sweet little girl? Huh, baby? Are you the sweetest, or what?” an angelic voice crooned upstairs; it was the mother, as I’d suspected.

  Usually, I didn’t know what my targets looked like until I saw their cold dead eyes looking up at me. Now, though, I knew exactly who I was going to kill in cold blood. She was a m
other, a wife, hell, maybe she was even a PTA mom for all I knew.

  The weight of my duty sat upon my chest like an elephant sprawling across an African dessert. Heavy. I’d never felt such confliction before. Once I’d put on my work facade, nothing ever phased me. I was a badass hitman, so why did I suddenly feel like I had a conscious?

  I crept up the stairs, my plastic booties slid smoothly against the carpeted stairs. The woman continued to coo to her child and sang to her in a sweet, and loving tone. With every step, my heart pounded harder and harder. My stomach dropped deeper and deeper. Was I really going to go through with this? I still had time to abandon ship if I wanted to.

  “What should mommy make for dinner tonight, my sweet angel?”

  The woman appeared in the bedroom just to the left of the second-floor landing. I saw her folding tiny clothes and putting them away in a dresser revealed by the open door. Luscious blonde locks draped over her shoulder and she wore tight, high-waisted jeans with a white bedazzled tank top. Every few moments, she’d stop putting away the clothes and glance to her baby. I watched her intently and she had no idea she’d had a guest.

  My piece felt slick in my hands now. Unbeknownst to me, I’d been grasping the grip so tightly I could barely feel my fingers. My breathing quickened and if I’d been poor health, I wouldn't be surprised if I passed out from the stress. What was happening to me right now?

  I stepped on the last step and it creaked beneath my weight. The woman snapped her head in my direction and opened her mouth to scream.

  My finger held onto the trigger and I had less than a second to decide my next move.

  Normal Wayne would have pulled the trigger, no questions asked. But, new Wayne, what would he do?

  16

  Serenity

  “Headed 2 party now… u cummin?”

  I nearly threw up in my mouth. Why did men think they could talk to me like that? Well, in this case, Noah was still a boy, but he’d grow up to be another creep foolish enough to believe he had some sort of claim to a woman’s body simply because he had a penis.

  “Anyone buying?” I responded on my cracked iPhone. It was a few models old, but I’d gotten it for free, so I couldn’t complain. Okay, I stole it. Happy?

  “Yea.”

  Well, it sure beats going to a shitty bar to deal. I’d still get the same cheap beer, but at least I wouldn’t have to pay for it.

  I checked the address again and tried to mentally picture the neighborhood. I’d already used all my data for the month and the next billing cycle wasn’t for another two weeks. I didn’t have enough money for a cab, so I started walked. I figured it was about five miles. Not too bad. It could certainly be much farther away.

  As I walked, I heard a car horn beeping madly. I whipped around to give ‘em the finger until I saw Noah’s block head hanging outside the back-passenger window. The BMW looked new enough to have just been driven off the lot.

  Of course, you’re in a beamer right now.

  “Jessica!” he called out.

  I waved and narrowed my eyes.

  “Look who it is,” I said as the navy-blue car pulled over to the shoulder.

  “Want a ride? Get in?”

  “Is this like in Mean Girls where you harass me until I get in with you?”

  “Huh?”

  “What? You’ve never seen Mean Girls?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe?”

  “You’re pathetic,” I hissed.

  “You want a ride, or what?”

  I peeked into the car to see if those vapid girls were in there, too. They must have gotten another ride because it was just Noah in the back, one boy I didn’t recognize driving and another in the front passenger seat whose eyes appeared glassy and unable to focus.

  I bet you’ll buy from me. I laughed to myself.

  “Sure. Why the hell not?”

  “Wooooooo!” Noah sang out the window at the top of his lungs. Obviously, he still rode the high from the football field.

  I hopped in a little nervously. Ma did tell me never to get into a car with strangers, but was Noah a stranger? Yeah, okay, he was. Whatever. She didn’t need to know, anyway.

  “Hey. I’m Colt,” the driver said as he ran his hand through his hair. What was up with these boys constantly running their hands through their hair? Was this a Georgio Armani cologne commercial?

  “Jessica,” I said shortly.

  The drunk one didn’t introduce himself and no one else offered to do so.

  “Ready to party?” Noah asked.

  “Uh, sure,” I said disingenuously.

  Less than five minutes later, we arrived at a three-story mansion atop a suburban hill. My jaw nearly dropped when I stepped out of the car and looked up.

  “People actually live here?” I asked.

  “No, they just bought it to look at,” Noah kidded.

  I sneered and raised my fist like I’d hit him if I had the energy. Noah, on the other hand, still had plenty of energy.

  “Hey, do you think it’s too soon for me to take another bump?”

  “Take it easy, tiger. Maybe wait another hour?”

  “An hour?” he whined, “But, I want some more right now!”

  “Chill out. Why don’t you introduce me to some more of your friends?”

  “Fine. Let’s go.”

  I followed him into the house and electronic music, shouts and laughter greeted us instantly. I’d never been to a party of this caliber before. It was like I was on MTV Cribs or something.

  A group of new teenagers tackled Noah and drunkenly started slurring about the game, who was coming tonight and who’d bailed.

  “Hey, Noah! Who’s the chick?” One of the boys asked eagerly as he raised his eyebrows repeatedly.

  “Oh, yeah. Everyone, this is Jessica. Jessica, this is everyone.”

  “How specific,” I mumbled.

  “Hi, Jessica,” the group sang in unison.

  I waved nonchalantly, ready to sell some coke and get the hell out of here. I already felt out of place. I’m surprised someone hadn’t asked me to take out the trash or walk around offering jello shots to the guests yet. Noah continued to chat with his friends and left me momentarily alone.

  A tall, beefy kid who easily towered over me and looked as though he could eat me for dinner strolled over to where I stood. He wore a football jersey and that air of arrogance a kid raised with a silver spoon would have.

  “Hey, girl,” He smiled.

  I grimaced and hoped he was talking to someone behind me. He wasn’t.

  “Haven’t seen you around here before,” he said as he swayed slightly.

  “Yeah,” I said as I rolled my eyes.

  “Can I get your number?”

  “Sorry, I don’t babysit anymore,” I replied.

  He looked bewildered and I couldn’t help but snicker.

  “I’m not interested,” I finally said before he lost any more brain cells trying to decipher what I’d said.

  “Ah okay. What about a quickie?”

  I snorted. “Excuse me?”

  “You know? Like friends with benefits?”

  “Please tell me you don’t use this line regularly,” I begged.

  Again, he furrowed his brow and scratched his head.

  “You’re kind of a bitch.”

  “Yeah? And?”

  He mumbled a few obvious obscenities and walked away much to my relief. If he’d stuck around any longer, I might have lost some brain cells, too. What the hell were they teaching kids these days?

  Out of the blue, a girl poked me sharply in my back. “Hey, aren’t you that girl from the record store?”

  I whipped around, not usually fond of strangers touching me. “Uh, who are you?”

  “I’m Sammy’s girlfriend.” She rolled her eyes like I should have known.

  “Who’s Sammy?”

  “Oh, my God! Are you missing some brain cells or what?”

  “Excuse me?” I stepped closer so our noses were inch
es apart.

  “I mean, don’t you remember? You were cashing us out earlier this week.” She huffed and stepped back hastily.

  I racked my brain and nothing came to mind. Was this chick mistaking me for someone else? Yet again, not many girls had pink hair and worked at a record store. It had to be me, but why don’t I remember her?

  “Serenity?”

  I turned around and it all made sense to me now. I did meet these two earlier this week, however, I only took the time to remember the boy, not his twat girlfriend.

  “Serenity?” Noah questioned. “What are you talking about, Sammy? This is Jessica.”

  My cover had been blown.

  17

  Wayne

  “Who are you?” The woman quivered as she moved to stand in between myself and her child.

  I stood there, frozen, not able to move or speak.

  “What do you want? I can give you money. Please just leave I’ll do anything!” Tears streamed down her face and the baby had begun to wail.

  “Shut up!” I growled, trying to think of what to do.

  My next move would make or break my career and was life or death for the woman sobbing before me.

  “Why are you here?” Her lips quivered.

  “I was sent here to kill you.”

  She gasped. “By who? Who would ever want to kill me?”

  “I don’t know, lady. I’m just trying to do my job,” I responded sternly. I could feel sweat soaking my mask, now.

  “You don’t know anything?”

  “No, I’m sorry.”

  “What would happen if you didn’t kill me?”

  “My boss might kill me.” I shuttered.

  She nodded, and I could see the wheels turning in her mind.

  “My husband is having an affair,” she admitted.

  I signed and put my gun down to my side.

  “Do you think he could have done this?” She cringed at the suggestion.

  “I think a woman called in this hit,” I said carefully.

  “It’s her, isn’t it? His mistress?”

  I shrugged. It was extremely possible.

  “She’s been harassing me. Sending me hate mail. All because he won’t leave me for her,” the woman said looking off into the distance. Tears had begun to fall from her eyes.