The dreams always came with the same voice, but never a face. I wake as soon as the dreams disappear. Sometimes they’re so vivid I can feel her skin, her hair, but never her face. I would give anything to see that face. I want to know why it haunts me, why she’s so stuck there. I haven’t told anyone.
Savannah woke me one night, I was rigid, tight, and drenched in sweat. She wanted to know what I was dreaming about. I couldn’t tell her, it didn’t feel right to share something like that with her.
“What’s wrong, baby?”
She crawls onto my lap, straddling me. I pick her up and slide her back so she’s sitting on the bed. She looks confused.
“I need you to be honest with me,” I say. Her head drops to the side as she assesses me. “Who was I with before you?”
Her eyes go wide in shock. She goes to speak then shuts her mouth straight away. “You fucked some junkie if I remember correctly.” She looks me in the eye, I can tell what she says is the truth. How much is the actual truth, though?
“Just fucked?”
“Fucked if I know. Maybe more than once…” she pins me with her eyes, “Why Trace? Why do you need to know this?”
“I need to know it all.”
“It doesn’t change anything, you are where you’re meant to be. When you accept that and accept me, it’ll get easier. Fuck! It's been five years, Trace, how can you not?”
I choose not to answer her. Instead, I stand and get dressed. It’s time to start packing, to go and do my job.
I’ve been in the car for five hours—five hours is how long it’s taken to get to this shit little city. Savannah seems nervous, constantly looking around and fidgeting with her hands. She bribed her way into coming with me, it didn’t surprise me. She always seems to, no matter what, she always goes where I go.
“Stay here,” I tell her climbing out of the truck. She looks at me and attempts to reach for the door handle. “Savannah, stay in the fucking truck!”
She nods her head and I step over to the coffee house. Turning back to see her watching me, she smiles but it’s weak, her eyes go from me then she starts looking around once again.
The smell hits me first, the strong smell of coffee beans. I look around, out of habit, assessing everything before I stand in line. Just as I’m about to be served, someone’s hand lands on my shoulder. The reaction is instant and I’m reaching for my gun just as fast as that hand removes itself. When I look up a man is standing there, a very tall man with a bald head. He looks me over, up and down, then does it a second time like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. My hand stays where it is, on my gun.
“Black?” he asks. His brows scrunched in confusion. My look must match his. “It can’t be…” his head starts to shake, “…you were dead,” he says just above a whisper.
“Who?” I ask. Who is this man he talks of? Why does that name sound familiar?
“You don’t recognize me?” he asks. A simple head-shake is all I give him before I see Savannah walking toward me. His eyes snap to her direction, he’s good, he notices things.
“Babe, you’re taking forever.” She wraps one arm around my waist and looks up to the man. “Who are you?” She’s rude when she wants to be. The guy’s nose crinkles, he turns his shoulder to her, clearly disgusted. I notice it and so does she, and she doesn’t like it one bit.
“The name’s Sax,” he says offering me his hand. I look at it unsure. But my hand automatically goes up and when he shakes it I feel him slip something in between—a card. I pocket it as soon as our hands break their strong grip.
“Trace,” I nod, giving him my name. He nods his head like he understands, and maybe he does. He looks one last time at Savannah, who’s wrapped around me like a snake before he walks out.
“What did he say?” Are her first words.
I take a step back, wondering what’s going on? And who is this Black?
“Nothing!” I turn and place our order, she stays where she is, watching me.
“You didn’t know him?” I turn to face her, grabbing our coffees and walking out the door. I go straight to my car, noticing that Sax is at the end of the street watching us. Savannah doesn’t notice, her eyes are glued to me wanting answers.
“Enough.” I see him then, the man we came for. He steps out of an office and he glances down at his watch.
“Trace,” she whines right next to me.
“Last time you’re coming with me. Do you understand?” My face is in her face, she nods her head and pouts her lips. I glance back up and see him climbing into a red sports car. Fuck this woman. “Get in the fucking car, or I’m leaving your ass here.” She doesn’t speak when she jumps in, then takes her coffee and sips it quietly next to me as I follow him.
He comes to a stop at a house, so I leave enough distance back so I can watch him. He walks to the door and a lady dressed in lingerie stands there, smiling. She pulls him by the tie inside.
Now… now I wait.
We sit in the car for a good hour. She plays on her phone and doesn’t say a word. I sit and watch the house quietly. She knows I need the quiet, I crave it.
He walks out, minus a tie. His smile is bright on his face, I have my sniper rifle already loaded, already positioned, just as he climbs in.
Everything around me goes black—I don’t see anything else but the target. I hear her breathing next to me and I swear it’s the last time she’ll come along with me. Just as he sits down, I take my shot. His door is shut, he’s buckling up, but his hands drop from his belt, falling down. His head lands on his horn and it blares loudly. We stay where we are, we’re far enough back that no one would’ve seen us. I check my surroundings again, and that’s when I see him. The man from the coffee shop, with a smirk on his face and he’s looking straight at me. He shakes his head and walks away.