JACK
Ahri sat on the white carpet, wearing my white shirt and looking like the definition of an angel. She stared at her journal for only a second until her eyes slashed to mine. Complete confusion and nothing more.
“Is-is this blood?” she muttered.
“Yeah, I couldn’t clean it off,” I said nonchalantly.
Ahri petted the cover and looked at my hands, a little swollen and red.
“Yours?”
“Nah.” I grunted as I squatted to the ground in front of my mini-safe. I went through the three forms of protections until the safe beeped and the door swung open. I took out a yellow legal pad notebook and went back to my seat on the ottoman, looking down at the blank first sheet of paper.
I cleared my throat. “Like you, Ahrianna, I wrote down my crimes. All my crimes.” I raised my eyebrows at the blank notebook cover and flipped it to reveal the first page. “After I left Chicago I went to New York. Like the black panther dressed in navy told me to go. I found the Hollow Kingdom…which doesn’t exist.”
Ahri tilted her head.
“It’s hard to explain, but…eh…the Hollow Kingdom is exactly that. Hollow, vacant, empty, non-existent, and never talked about. So, again, it doesn’t exist, but it does. It’s always in abandoned places. In New York, it was in a strip club, in Philadelphia, it was in a butcher shop, and in Boston, it was in a warehouse. All different locations, but all the same. There is no human interaction whatsoever, and everything's done via cameras, speakers, and a red and green light.”
“It took me a while to find the place since no one talked about it, but I managed. The set up was simple. You wait at the back door, a camera checks you out, and if you are welcomed, you get the green light, and the door opens. If you’re unlucky, you talk to the Robot Bitch, as I liked to call her. She plays twenty questions with you until she decides; green light or red light.”
“Once you go inside, it’s pitch black. All the places were dark, dusty, and deserted, and at the far end was a light that shone over a massive bulletin board were jobs were posted. Some jobs were assigned to specific people, and others were labeled, ‘First come. First served.’ The process was simple. Pick a job, show the camera, and let the Robot Bitch ask her questions. Afterwards, you get the green light for ‘approved’ or red for ‘denied.’ If you’re denied you have to leave and come back in another two weeks. You’re only allowed one job every two weeks.”
“So, the Hollow Kingdom is an underground organization?” Ahri tried to wrap her head around the concept.
I nodded and spoke clearly, “Yeah, in a way. But again, it doesn't exist.”
She looked down at her notebook and rubbed her fingers over the spine.
“Listen, I know it’s hard to believe. I found it hard to believe, but when there are millions of people living in three major cities, crazy shit’s bound to happen. You’re bound to have rich fuckers looking for ways to make their lives easier, which sometimes involves taking someone life.”
Ahri picked her head up and searched for more answers on my part.
“I wasn’t allowed to go inside the HK until I was sixteen, and when I did, I wasn’t allowed to take any hit jobs. Even non-existent organizations had rules: No hit’s until you’re eighteen. It was easier that way, being an ‘adult’ and all, in case you got caught mid-crime.”
I flipped the blank page of my legal pad. “Age: 16. $2,000: Hijacking a Mercedes-Benz with black exterior and red interior. I wasn’t allowed to take hit jobs, but I was allowed to steal cars. I did that for a year until I turned seventeen and I offered a service to Robot Bitch. A cleaning service. One in which I had to write up a proposal to convince Robot Bitch to let me offer it.”
“Age: 17. $1,000: Clean up a hit. $4,500: Clean up two hits. $500: Clean up a torture room. Cleanup, cleanup, cleanup…” I flipped the page. “More fucking cleanups. I had specific assignments made just for me every two weeks. I would go in before the crime happened, check out the place and remember where everything was before the struggle and blood happened. Then I’d come back when the body was gone, and I cleaned.”
I shook my head and let out a scoff. “I hate to admit it, but I was god-like at my job. Over the year, I earned my respect, and I made a name for myself. Jack…the Maid.” I lightly chuckled and so did Ahri. “I left the place spotless like no one was ever killed and I kept the hitters safe, even though I never met them. I’ve met a few people who I thought were in HK, but it was forbidden to talk about it, and everyone respected that rule. It’s how the Hollow Kingdom remains a secret and it’s how its members remain safe. Without a name or a face, there’s no threat to bite you in the ass, and everyone loved that.”
“So, no one’s after your head? You’re safe?” Ahri asked.
“Always. That’s how it worked. And if I wasn't safe, I could take care of myself. And you.” My smile was wide until it faded. I stared at the legal pad and cleared my throat. “Ahri? Are you sure you wanna know? Because, like I said, even if you don't like it I’m going to keep you. I’ll trap my princess in my tower with no mercy.”
Ahri let out a soft nervous laugh. “I don't care about the killings, Jack. I don't care who or how many people you’ve killed or hurt, as long as you don’t hurt me. Or the people I care about.”
“Selfish girl.” I grinned like an idiot and turned the page. “A month after I turned eighteen I went where the real money was. Age: 18. $5,000: Murder by brass knuckles and knife.”
I ground my teeth and looked at Ahri. She sat on her heels giving me those black button eyes that weren’t dipped in fear. They stayed calm and fearless.
“I took a hit every two weeks for six years, minus April. That was always my ‘No Work’ month. On top of having my hit job, I was still Jack the Maid. I was the first person to get one job a week from HK, or at least that’s what the Robot Bitch told me. One week was Maid Mondays. The other week was Hitman Thursdays. I got paid well, but not well enough. I wanted more money. I needed more money if I wanted to end up here. So, I had other ways to get money.” I flipped through the sheets. “Blood donations, fighting, torture threats, stealing/selling, pickpocketing, bodyguard, private investigator, and one time, a wedding photographer.”
Ahri placed her notebook on the carpet and crawled toward me. She sat in front of me with her legs crossed, waiting for more of my past stories.
“You know what my favorite jobs were?” I asked Ahri as she shook her head side to side.
“I loved being a private investigator. I was always a sucker for jobs that turned me into a sloth. Eating burgers in a car, looking through a camera, and waiting for the right moment to take a photo. Sadly, it didn’t pay well, and it took too much of my time. To make matters worse, unfortunately, I was a great killer. I say, ‘unfortunately’ because I started to get jobs meant just for me. Jack of all Trades. When the jobs had your name on it, and when you had a special section on the bulletin board in all three locations: New York, Philly, and Boston. That’s when you knew you’ve made it.”
“Word got around that Jack was good with a knife. That Jack was a loyal subject and followed the details in the description. That for the right price Jack could make all your problems go away with a touch of steel and a little bit of bleach.” I sighed. “I moved around the three cities and did my jobs. I didn’t give two shits about who I killed. They could’ve been the worst of the worst or an innocent man who saw something he shouldn't have. I didn’t care about their background stories. I still don’t care. In my eyes, those men were just dollar signs, paying for my dream. It’s fucked up, I know, but that was my job.”
“Until one day, I broke down because of what some people thought I would do for money. I know who I am and what I’ve done, but I’m no heartless monster.” I bit the inside of my cheek and shook my head as my leg shook with anger. “I might have thrown my morals and ethics out the window for money, but I had a huge weakness. No matter how much you fucking paid me, I could never, never, kill a woman or child. I would rather die before that happened.”
“Yet, some people thought I was a psychopath—which I might be—but at the very least I’m a sane one. I have a heart, one that beats. Some days it beats slower than most, but it beats, reminding me that I have a line between right and wrong.” I inhaled deeply. “There was this man who wanted his girlfriend dead. He wanted me to get rid of her because she was pregnant, and he didn’t want his wife to find out. He wanted me to get rid of his adultery with a full payment of half a million dollars, and I denied it in a heartbeat.”
Ahri’s jaw dropped.
“That wasn’t the worst one. The worst one was a man, who had a kid with special needs. He didn’t want to spend any more money on his nine-year-old son, so he wanted him gone at any cost. ‘Money is no issue.’ That’s what was typed in the payment description for that job: ‘Money. Is. No. Issue.’” I gritted.
“I hate men like that. Cowards. I was tempted to take both those jobs, to find the details about those men and get rid of them, but I knew better than to get my heart involved. I denied both jobs and was never assigned to that work ever again. I continued to work my maid shifts, hitman shifts, and small jobs until one day, I got an envelope in the mail. It was addressed to my shitty apartment in Philly with my full name and HK name: Jack Igor Baron. Jack of all Trades).”
I went to the last page of my legal pad, dedicated to Wallace.
“I got a yearlong contract from a man named Wallace Malt. I knew exactly who he was. I’d read about him in Forbes. Wallace Malt, CEO of Mexus Software and worth millions—a hundred million shy of turning into a billionaire. He was an old geezer with quite the reputation when he was younger. The stereotypical rich bad boy before he got fat and old.”
“I ignored the contracts, but they kept coming in every week for a month. Until one day I got another envelope, but it wasn’t a contract, it was a list of ALL the men I’d killed in the past six years. That’s when I decided to meet the privileged motherfuckering blackmailer for brunch. I was about to kill him, right then and there, in the restaurant until Wallace handed me a flash drive with the list of everyone I had killed. He promised me that it was the only copy and it was. He was a shitty liar when it came to me. I ended up ordering the whole damn menu in the private room at that five-star restaurant while I forced Wallace to tell me how he got my kill list.”
“How did he get it?” Ahri practically begged.
“Turns out the HK—which doesn’t exist—is a lot more complicated than I thought. One, HK only ‘existed’ on the East Coast and it’s divided into two parts: the Peasants and the Knights. I was a Peasant for many reasons. I had no military experience, no shooting experience, no nothing. And I looked like a punk, a troublemaker…a peasant. The Knights, on the other hand, were more low-key and trained. They all had some sort of military experience, gun experience—pro-level kind of shit—and they had no tattoos or distinguishing marks. If they did, it couldn’t go past their clothes. Usually their suits.”
“Two, the HK was ruled by a ruthless Queen, not a King. She had no name, but went by The Queen. No one had any idea what she looked like which, again, smart and safe. If you had control of a deadly kingdom, I think it would be best to remain in the shadows.”
“Three, The Queen owned us. It turns out that she took half of all her employee’s commissions, and once she’d made enough money on what she thought we were worth, she put us on the Hollow Kingdom market and sold us. She showed whoever was interested in our file and if you paid extra, they got to see the videos, hear the audio, and read the transcripts. Of course, The Queen was smart, and all the proof of us was deleted immediately after being read. A one-time view.”
“Usually the Peasants either died or went to prison, while the Knights got offered to the rich. Mobs or businessmen. I, Jack of all Trades, was the first Peasant to be offered to the wealthy. I survived six years. I showed dedication and promise. And I was loyal, skilled, and fun as fuck. Once The Queen milked as much money as she could out of me, she sold me.”
“Wallace bought me the second he saw me which was how he got my kill list. All the dirt The Queen once had on me was now Wallace’s, that’s how it worked after you bought your HK property. From day one, Wallace was a good guy. He didn't have to give me a contract, but he did. He didn’t have to hand me all the proof that could send me to prion, but he did.”
“Why did Wallace trust you so much?” Ahri asked.
“Cause I’m fucking awesome.” I smirked while Ahri rolled her eyes. “He genuinely liked me. He told me about the time he laughed his ass off when he watched a video of me flirting with Robot Bitch for shits and giggles. Or another time where I snapped. Where I yelled at the top of my lungs at Robot Bitch and broke the fucking camera because I was commissioned to do a heartless job. He watched all six-years’ worth of videos, and I won him over. He liked my crude jokes, my attitude, and my small dose of morals and principals. My overall attitude on life.”
“From the start, I got a good feeling from Wallace. After he paid for my brunch, I signed the yearlong contract with him. My gut was telling me to do it, and so, I did. At age twenty-four I finally got a steady job. I was paid a million dollars, and I became Wallace’s hitman, bodyguard, bounty hunter, private investigator, and so on. Nothing I hadn’t done before.”
“I only killed five people that whole year, and I spent the majority of my time as Wallace’s bodyguard. A fancy way of saying, I was his entertainment when he got bored at company parties, clubs, or life. There were times he called me up to have dinner when he didn’t want to deal with his family or another time when we went to Target and shopped for dish soap and fucking condoms.”
“Wallace thought of me like the son he’d never had, even though he did have a son, Michael. But to be fair, Michael was a gutless man in need of some balls, but thank God he was a damned good lawyer.” I chuckled. “Wallace liked me, a lot, and I liked him, but I knew better than to get attached. So, I kept my distance. When my contract ended, Wallace renewed me in a heartbeat, but this time it was different. He pampered the shit out of me, claiming it was a bonus for doing such a good job my first year. I got paid one point five million, got a free small one-bedroom apartment in Boston, and a car, Wallace’s old Lexus.”
“That was one of my favorite years. I didn’t kill anyone, and I had two titles. Jack the Bodyguard/Entertainer, and Jack the Photographer.” I let out a soft laugh, but my smile faded. “Unfortunately, that was also the year I went to prison. I might’ve not killed anyone, but that didn’t stop Wallace.”
Ahri came closer to me. She sat in between my spread legs and rested her head on my inner thigh. I smiled at my precious girl and played with a lock of her hair as she looked up at me with her big onyx eyes.
“What did Wallace do?” Ahri spoke softly, her cheek pressed against my leg.
“The dumb bastard fell in love.” I took a deep breath, rubbing Ahri’s golden hair between my fingers. “I was going to his mansion in Rhode Island for his rehearsal dinner. It was my little tradition to go to his mansion early when there was a party to make sure everything was clean and ready, as well as getting first dibs on the black caviar appetizers. My job description that day was bodyguard/entertainment. I went in expecting the usual. Wallace would get bored of the party around the two-hour mark, then I would rescue him, telling him there was a problem or some bullshit like that. We would go downstairs to his bowling alley and play a game or two while we smoked some weed and joked around.”
I looked down at the first job I did with Wallace.
“Age: 24. Contract: Protect Wallace at a strip club while he gets down and dirty with some ho.” I sucked on my tooth. “He divorced his wife after the day I escorted him to the strip club. Wallace was supposed to marry that specific ho the day after the party, but they never got married. He found her fucking his pool boy on his kitchen counter before the party started. And he killed him.”
I let out a heavy sigh and licked my lips in frustration. “The second I stepped inside his mansion. Something felt wrong. It was as if someone had muted my life until the sound of a knife hit the marble floor. The ping filled the whole mansion with an echo, turning my body inside out as I mindlessly followed the noise. The white marble kitchen floor was coated with the pool boy’s blood as it spread closer to the knife Wallace had dropped. The ho was on the floor, passed out from shock, but Wallace just stood there, shaking with fear and disbelief at what he had done.”
“When I snapped Wallace out of his trance, he yelled at the top of his lungs, clearly seeing the full effect of his rage and jealousy. The guests were coming in an hour, and there was no fucking way I could’ve cleaned up the blood or made everything better. I couldn't make the crime invisible like I’d done hundreds of times in the past, so we came up with a plan. A plan that involved me, a nobody, a peasant to a rich man, taking the fall. We woke up the ho, and I made her choose between ratting us out or her life and money. She made the right choice. She called the cops on me, and that’s when our little lie began.”
“I only got seven years with the help of Michael while Wallace paid for my happiness. He took my savings and turned it into a grand total of twenty-six point five million dollars. All of it legal. On top of that, Wallace showered me with expensive gifts like this penthouse, my car, and a few other things. The money he gave me was nothing compared to what he had, but it was all he could do to relieve his guilt. He tried to buy my forgiveness, and he did a damn good job of it. I know he still hates himself for what he did, I still hate him a little, but I forgave him…” I looked around my closet with a smile. “Obviously, I forgave him.”
Ahri blankly watched me. Just looking at her made my heart feel as if it was expanding.
“Y-you’re that rich?” Ahri spoke softly.
“I told you I had some money.” I chuckled.
“Mmmm-hmmm,” Ahri grunted like a zombie. Her eyes bouncing between me and the legal pad. “How many men have you killed, Jack?”
I sucked in the air as my teeth dried out. Shaking my head, I flipped through all the pages, the red ink representing kills.
“Triple digits. I stopped counting after a hundred and focused more on the DPM. Dollars-per-men.” I stopped at a page where it was almost all red. Ahri tilted her head to the side as she bit the inside of her bottom lip. She wasn’t expecting that many bodies. “I’ll never regret my kills, Ahrianna. I know what I did was inhumane, but I’m greedy. I wanted my fucking dream, and I wanted it bad. I did anything and everything. I busted my ass to get here, and it was worth all the blood, bodies, and cleanups. And I’ll never regret it.”
I stroked Ahri’s cheek and dimple, her skin as soft as velvet and almost glowing from all the sleep she’d had the past two days. My cheeks turned rosy as my grin got wilder.
“When Wallace killed the pool boy. I didn’t get it. I thought Wallace was a fucking moron, a fool, to kill for love. Out of all the emotions in the book, love was never a reason to kill. Not in my eyes. I didn’t understand.”
I bent down to Ahri’s beautifully parted lips and kissed her passionately.
“I understand now,” I spoke softly.
Ahri lightly gasped and looked back to her journal.
“I’ve been Jack the Maid, Jack the Hitman, Jack the Thief, Jack the Blood Donor, Jack the Photographer—I’ve been it all. But now, I can add Jack the Arsonist to the list.”
Ahri’s eyes filled with tears. “I-I-I thought—I thought you just got the journal…” She sniffed. “You-you killed him?”
“I told you I would do anything and everything for you, baby girl. I would kill and die for you.”
Ahri let her tears of joy stream down her face as she jumped on me so hard she knocked the wind out of my lungs when I fell back into my ottoman. She hugged me so tight I thought she wanted to earn the title, ‘Ahrianna the Suffocator.’
“Thank you, Jack,” she cried and mumbled into my neck. “Thank you, thank you, thank you—” Ahri stopped and sat on my hips. “Wait—you’re gonna get caught, aren’t you. That’s just my luck.”
I got up to my elbows and pulled Ahri by the back of her neck to steal a kiss. I whispered, “I never got caught for my crimes, remember?”
I held my universe in my arms, and I held it tight. Ahri cried and thanked me countless times, begging for more details about my final kill. I told Ahri I finished the job she started, but she begged for all the details, and I caved. I told her he suffered for all his crimes and everything was safe and sound. Ahri was safe and sound.
“So, then you got your whole dream. You got your penthouse, your clothes, your car, and your retirement.” She sniffed, rubbing her tears away.
“You forgot I also get my wife and kids too.” I winked.
Ahri pushed on my chest to keep her distance. “Yeah, I haven’t fully forgiven you, Jack. You need to slow down that fantasy.” She giggled nervously and rubbed the back of her neck.
“Nah, I’m good. Spoiler alert: I’m a man who gets everything he wants…minus my retirement,” I grunted.
Ahri pulled on an expressionless face. I explained to her about the delay in my retirement plan due to Daddy Emilio.
“Jack the Babysitter.” Ahri let out a laugh as she walked toward her notebook and picked it up. “Did you read it?”
“No, I didn’t.”
She flipped through the pages, going into the past until she spotted something that made her smile. She gave me the notebook and pointed. “Read that.”
“I would fuck James—” I stopped and looked up at Ahri with an expression that read: Really? Are you serious? “I don’t want to read this, Ahrianna.”
“Keep reading, jealous boy,” she said dryly, her face as cold as stone, but her eyes were full of passion.
I clenched my teeth and slowly read, “I would fuck James. I would kill Frank (attempt to kill him). And I would marry Wade. I would rather have all three, but Luke made me choose. If I could combine the Wolverine, the Punisher, and Deadpool. I would.”
Ahri sat down next to me and dropped her head on my arm.
“I’ve only ever loved three men,” Ahri confessed. “The Punisher; a brutal, vicious man, who never hurt innocent people. Not a woman or a child. The Wolverine; a fighter, and a fiercely loyal man with a good heart. And Deadpool; a wild, sexy, arrogant, and unpredictable mercenary comedian with a big mouth.” Ahri looked up at me. “You’re all three Jack.”
“Wow, I’m dating Fidget.” I let out a hearty laugh while Ahri slapped my gut. I rubbed my stomach until I realized something. “Wait, was that your way of telling me you love me?”
Ahri blushed. “In a terrible nerdy way…yes.”
I tackled Ahri to the soft carpeted floor, my large hand covering the back of her head. I kissed her hard, stealing all of her air.
“Say it,” I growled. “This time say it. Say that you love me.”
“I love you, Jack, but you’re still not forgiven—”
“Shut up.” I attacked her lips once more.
We made out for a while until my body collapsed next to hers. It’s been too long since I’d slept. We laid in silence for a while until Ahri got up and grabbed the legal pad. She came back, taking a seat on my stomach as she rested her back on my bent knees.
“Age: 18. $900: Sold hair to wig company.” Ahri laughed.
“I don’t think I have to explain my, ‘anything and everything’ motto. It’s pretty straightforward.” I ran my hand up Ahri’s bare thigh and playfully pinched her.
Ahri laughed at some of my petty crimes. The one time I stole a taco truck when I was high as fuck and sold it the next morning. Or the time I broke into some guys house to take his cat which was actually his ex-girlfriend's cat.
Other crimes Ahri wanted more details about. Like the time I went to a strip club, kidnapped the owner, and threw knives around his body as a form of torture, so he didn’t miss his next payment to who-the-fuck-cares. Or the time I had to go all the way to Montreal, Canada, to kill a man who’d fled the country. That one took me a while since I needed to get a passport, which I was reimbursed for, and was now expired.
I let Ahri read all my crimes as I went into my room to grab a pen.
“Wanna do the honors?” I handed her the pen as she nodded with a crazy happy smile.
Yep, Ahrianna Lore was my crazy other half.
Ahri wrote: ‘Age: 33. $0: Death to Him by fire.’
“You happy?” I asked.
“Extremely,” she said with no hesitation.
“Do you wanna be even happier?” I cocked my eyebrow.
Taking her notebook and mine, I headed toward the kitchen. I grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels from my bar, a pack of paper matches, and a pack of cigarettes.
“I’m not in the mood to drink.” Ahri gave me sass.
“Who the fuck said we’re drinking?” I threw the notebooks in the sink and poured the Jack Daniels on the pages. “Anything that can take you away from me. Gone. Anything that can take me away from you. Gone.”
I slammed the bottle of Jack Daniels down on the counter and slid it across until it hit the wall. I went over to Ahri, picked her up by the waist and placed her on the white marble island across from the sink where I joined her to watch our little show. I lit a cigarette and gave it to Ahri for a hit, but she denied it.
“I only smoke when I’m stressed,” she said with a deep dimple as she kicked her legs in the air and watched the sink.
“Not stressed?” I smirked.
“Not even close.” Ahri pulled on the white shirt that made her look like my angel on a white marble pedestal.
“Good,” I said before taking one more drag and flicked the cigarette into the sink.
Never had I ever seen something move in slow motion like that cigarette flipping in the air. The cigarette lit up the sink. The confessions of our sins blowing up in a ball of fire before the flame went steady. The fire was a beautiful rage of darkness and life.
“Love is a spirit all compact of fire, not gross to sink, but light, and will aspire.”
“Shakespeare?”
“Always.” I dropped my head down on Ahri’s hair.
“What’s it mean?”
I laced my hand with Ahri’s. We watched small flecks of burned paper particles rise from the heat.
“To me, it means: Love is the spirit of fire. Filled with excitement, strength, and hope. It will not sink or weigh us down, but instead, it will light up everything it touches as the ashes ascend. It is brutal and beautiful, powerful and pure, chaotic and calm. Fire is light. Love is sunlight, a necessary source of survival.”
Ahri squeezed my hand and sighed. “I’m going to have a lot of fun learning about you, Jack.” She smiled against my shoulder.
I chuckled. “This is where our real lives start, Ahrianna.” I kissed her soft lips. “I’ll make sure you get everything you want. It’s the least I can do when I got everything I need.”