Kim

Up on stage, Jessica is just wrapping up her welcoming speech and then the play will begin. At least I hope she's almost done, since she's been talking for almost twenty minutes, and people are starting to yawn and fidget. If she wants them to donate money, she better let the wards start performing Romeo and Juliet. They're the ones who'll be bringing in the cash, it won’t be her in that pink dress and platform shoes.

My mom is clutching my hand so hard it hurts. She doesn't deal well with crowds, especially not when she's on edge like she's been lately. But I think she’ll settle down once they turn off the lights and the play starts.

I wish we could sit in the front row, so I could mouth the lines to Benji if he forgets them, since I now have the whole version of Romeo and Juliet that they're doing memorized too. But we're sitting at the end of the last row, right next to the door, so that Mom can get up and leave the room immediately if she needs to. I think we're nearing the point where she'll need to, if Jessica doesn't shut up soon. I turn to check that no one's blocking the way, my heart stopping dead even though it was pumping a mile a minute a second ago.

Tank is leaning against the closed door, wearing a black suit and tie, along with his new biker boots and his black and green bandana tied around his neck. He looks good dressed up, I'll give him that. And I'd love to help him out of that suit. He's grinning at me like he knows exactly what I'm thinking. But that's not the only thing I'm thinking.

I pry my mom's fingers off my hand, whispering to her that I'll be right back. Russell starts comforting her, so I can get up.

Then I'm standing in front of him, my heart beating very fast again. I don't remember why I was angry at him, I just want him to kiss me.

"We have to talk," I say in a whisper that's much too shrill. More than one person in the audience gawks at us. He turns his back on them and leads me out of the auditorium by placing his arm around my shoulders.

"Why haven't you returned any of my calls?" I ask once we're alone in the hall and he's still not saying anything.

His ocean blue eyes are saying plenty though, as they bore into me deeper than anyone else can see. All the promises he made me, all the things he said on the last night we spent together still hold true. No one can lie with their eyes. He isn't lying.

"We'll talk soon," he says. "But not right now. Go back in, the play's about to start."

"I want to talk now," I counter. "I called you at least—"

The rest of my sentence is cut off by his kiss, hungry and fierce, wild as all his kisses always are, but deeper too, as deep as the ocean in his eyes, as deep as the everlasting love I know we share. Once he releases me, I literally have no idea what I wanted to talk to him about. I certainly don't feel hurt and abandoned anymore, I feel loved and protected, needed and cared for, passionately desired.

"Go now," he says and turns me around, slapping my ass to hurry me along. "I'll see you soon."

He'll give me everything I ask for, I hear that loud and clear in his voice, feel it in every kiss, every touch. But he'll do it in his own time. I know that too. So I go back in like he asks, and try not to worry too much about how I know all these things. Nothing much made sense since we met. And yet, it all makes perfect sense.

* * *

Tank

It'd be better if Kim hadn't seen me here tonight, but damn, I just couldn't be in the same building and not see her, couldn't not kiss her. These last two days without her were worse than hell, and I won't go back to it willingly. So this plan of mine better work.

My phone starts buzzing just as a roar of applause sounds from the auditorium.

"What?" I bark, seeing Rook's name on the screen.

"We got company," he says. "The Reznor brothers are making a perimeter around the building. Seems they came after all."

I curse under my breath. Less than an hour ago, I watched Kim, her mom and her step-father arrive in that silver car of hers. There were no bodyguards in sight, so I hoped at least that part of things would go according to my plan. Nothing ever goes according to plan though. I learned that the hard way more than once.

"Nothing for it," I say. "Take them down, but try not to take them out."

"Alright," Rook says in that suspiciously calm voice he gets when he knows something more than he's been told is going on. Cross decided that the less people who know what's actually going down tonight the better, so the two of us are the only ones who know. He often decides this. Rook will get over it, because he's used to it.

Cross himself is waiting in the van by the back door of this place for me to bring the Sheriff out. No one but me knows this either.

"How long do you think you'll need?" I ask.

"Not long. There's only four of them," Rook says. "I'll call when it's done."

Don't fuck up.

But I don't say it, since it'll only piss him off and I know he won't.

The play inside is in full swing. I can hear Kim's brother delivering his lines in that stuttering way of talking he has. I never did learn to understand him very well. Maybe if I'd paid more attention to what he was telling me when I spent time with him, I'd already know his step-father was campaigning for Sheriff. But Kim never mentioned it either. It doesn't matter anymore. But I'll ask her why if I ever get the chance to.

This stupid tragedy the retards are acting out in the auditorium seems like an omen. A bad one. I never paid much attention in school, but Romeo and Juliet stayed with me. They had every intention of just faking their own deaths, then living happily ever after away from everyone who tried to keep them apart. But it all went wrong. They both died. This plan of mine could go completely wrong too. Me and Kim probably won't die at the end. But the result if I fail will be just as tragic.

My phone buzzes again, bringing me out of my morbid wonderings. It ain't over 'til it's over. I've always lived by those words.

"It's done," Rook says as I pick up.

I don't reply, just hang up and dial the number I have for the Sheriff. His personal number. It just rings and rings until I'm sure he won't pick up and this job will get a whole lot more complicated before it even gets started.

"Hello," a man finally whispers into the phone. I can now hear the words of the play through the door and through the speaker of his phone.

"This is John, Reznor sent me," I lie to him. "There's a situation, Sir. I need you out in the hall right now. Don't alarm anyone."

"What is this about?" he asks, clearly annoyed at being interrupted.

"I’ll tell you as soon as you meet me," I tell him and hang up to avoid any more questions, and to hurry him along.

Minutes tick by slowly, the play still going on inside and no sign of the Sheriff. I'm just about to call him again, when the door finally starts opening. He waves to someone inside—probably his wife—mouthing, ‘I'll be right back’, then turns to face me. I've turned off the lights in the hall, so it's almost completely dark and I'm standing about ten feet away, so I'm fairly certain he can't make out my face. It’s a precaution I want to take in case we ever have family dinners together.

"Are you the one who called?" he asks much too loudly. I'm sure they can hear him inside.

"Yes, Sir. If you'll just follow me," I say in a much quieter tone, turn away from him and start walking. I pull the bandana over my face before he reaches me.

"I'm at a family event," he snaps. "What is so urgent?"

I don't have time to argue with him, so I stay quiet. The play could be over soon, given how long I've already wasted waiting for him.

"I don't remember seeing you before," he says as he approaches. "You say Reznor sent you. Can I see some ID?"

I grab him and stick the Glock I'm holding into his side once he's close enough.

"This way," I say, and nod at the back exit. "You'll get your answers soon."

Even in the half-light of the hall I see him pale. He jerks, looks back the way he came, but by this time I have a firm hold on him.

"Don't yell, or I'll kill you right here," I warn in a whisper.

He glares at me for a moment, but then takes a slow step towards the door and then another.

"Best to walk faster, Russell," I say. "You don't want your wife to find your dead body in this hallway, now do you?"

That chases the last of the fight out of him, and he lets me lead him down the hall to the exit.

Our white van is parked right at the door, Cross behind the wheel. I push Russell into the back and get in behind him, then bang on the wall behind the driver for Cross to take off.

This part went OK, but the hard part is only beginning.

"You don't frighten me," Russell says, glaring at me even though all he can see are my eyes, and even those not very well.

"Yeah? I should frighten you," I respond calmly. "I'm the man who’s gonna kill you. Unless you do as I say."

His eyes widen at that, but then they grow hard again.

"I don't deal with criminals," he says. "Kill me if you must."

Not exactly the words I was hoping to hear. But we have all night.