Pink Lips (14 page)

Willow stood over the box with the key in her hand. She didn't know what was so important about the contents of the box, but she was about to find out. She put the key in the box turning it slightly. She heard a clinging noise and used her free hand to open the box. A small black tape recorder was the only thing inside. She removed it, tucking it away in her clutch as she walked to the door.

“Thank you.” Willow opened the door.

“You're so welcomed and again, I'm sorry for your loss.” The clerk rubbed the top of Willow's back.

Willow smiled as she left out of the bank, the wind whipping her bun out of place. She opened up the clutch as she walked down the pale street. She wondered what was on the tape and why it was so important to V. Whatever it was, he didn't want anyone to hear it. She closed her clutch as she crossed the busy street to get to her car.

She got in the car as she wondered how Kail and Choice's job was going. She sped off to go to the spot where V had told her to leave the tape when her phone started vibrating in her hand. It was Duke and seeing his name appear on her screen made her smile. She was reluctant to answer; she was in a middle of a job but she couldn't resist.

“Where are you at?” Duke's deep baritone voice asked through the phone.

“About to finish up some work,” she said as she pulled up to a park.

“You coming through?”

“Yes, I'll be over when I finish this.”

“Bet.” He hung up the phone.

Walking through the green-painted, wrought-iron gates, Willow
saw a concrete pathway stretching out in front of her like a gray ribbon meandering through the verdant shrubbery. Over to the right, she saw a children's playground, with a sandpit, swings and roundabouts all being used to their full extent by a myriad of squealing and laughing youngsters, obviously enjoying the cold and wind of the winter day. Parents, seated nearby, were watching their offspring with the intensity of a mother hen nurturing her chicks.

Conversely on the opposite side of the path was the lush vegetation of the many trees, with their welcoming shade, and the colorful plants, their heady scent filling the air mixing with the smell of the snow.

As she walked further into the park, she saw benches, painted green to match the foliage, with people sitting on them, some resting, others enjoying a sandwich or hot drink. Once she passed the play area, she noticed the peacefulness and quiet environment she now found herself in, and she felt an inner calm that God's beautiful creations had given her.

She breathed in deeply, savoring the freshness and perfume of the oxygenated air and it gave her both peace and exhilaration at the same time. She made it to the end of the park, spotting the small birdhouse where V had told her to put the deposit box's contents. She took the tape out of her clutch and placed it into the empty birdhouse; never stopping her feet from moving as she headed to her car to go see Duke.

•  •  •

The night was not only dark but calm; the air was crisp, cold and awakening; the trees stiff and frozen-like. The stars could be seen for miles in the pure, perfectly landscaped sky. Snow was a
sight from a picture, so perfectly layered by nature, no imperfections except for their own footsteps. The moon so bright it lit up the whole street as though they were carrying a lamp with them.

Kail's and Choice's breath looked as though they had just puffed on a cigar as they walked up the four stone steps into the church's entrance. They opened up the beautiful maroon-colored door as two fonts full of holy water greeted them. To the right was a door leading to the bathroom. To the left was the door leading to the choir loft, which they were standing directly beneath.

They entered another set of doors; the snow boots on their feet leaving little trails of melted snow. Beyond those doors were four columns of pews. There were about twenty rows. It was then two steps up to the altar. Inside the altar table were some valuable relics, unavailable to be seen without special permission from the priest.

Over to the right was the baptismal font, and next to it was the Paschal candle; the candle that is lit during Easter, funerals, and baptisms. Further to the right, there was a statue of St. Agnes, the church's patroness, and the candle that indicated the presence of the Holy Spirit.

“Is he here?” Choice whispered to Kail as they looked around the church.

“He's the priest, of course he's here.” Kail looked over at the confessional area.

They never wondered why V wanted the priest dead and they didn't care. When he offered them two hundred thousand upfront, they didn't care if they had to kill the leader of the free world, they would have done it with no questions asked.

“He's in there,” Kail pointed to the confessional, “stay here, make sure nobody comes in, and I got this.”

“I got you.” Choice headed to the doors to guard them.

Kail entered the white-walled booth and she kneeled before a tiny screen. It was no odor to speak of as her knees touched the soft cloth so the priest could not see her. She couldn't see the priest, and he couldn't see her, but she knew he was there. She began praying for what she was about to do.

“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost,” the priest said as they both made the sign of the cross.

“Bless me, father, for I have sinned,” Kail made the sign of the cross over her head and chest. “It has been a long time since I have last confessed and these are my sins.” Kail continued as her eyes watered. “I am guilty of murder. I am a liar. I steal and do other bad things that I am not proud of, but it is all that I know. No matter how bad I may want to stop committing these sins, I can't. I've tried.”

“Are you truly sorry for these sins?” the priest asked in a nonjudgmental tone.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“You would need to make an act of contrition.”

“Contrition?” she asked as the priest began to pray out loud.

“Your sins are forgiven; you may leave in peace.” A door at the bottom of the confessional opened and an open Bible slid through. “Read that aloud, the highlighted verse.”

Kail sat and looked at the verse: Corinthians 6:9-10. She knew the scripture by memory; she knew all the scriptures by memory. The church was silent for it was only her, the priest, and Choice. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes before she started to read.

“Do you not know that the wicked will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived: Neither the sexually immoral nor idolaters nor adulterers nor male prostitutes nor homosexual offenders nor thieves nor the greedy nor drunkards nor slanderers nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God.”
She opened her eyes and slid the Bible back into the opening.

“And, what does that mean?” he asked.

“I don't need an intervention.”

“I'm just trying to help.”

“By judging me?” Kail raised her tone.

“By praying for you,” the priest responded.

“Do you remember this scripture from the Bible, priest?” Kail asked him as her grip on her gun tightened. “Judge not, that you be not judged. For with the judgment you pronounce you will be judged, and with the measure you use it will be measured to you. Why do you see the speck that is in your brother's eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,' when there is the log in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother's eye,” she whispered.

“I assure you there is no speck in my eye,” the priest said.

“There has to be something in it.” Kail pulled her gun out of her clothes. “Why else would someone hire me to kill you?” She rose and released her clip into the other half of the confessional. She ran out, opened the door leading to the priest, checked his pulse, and ran over to where Choice was.

“Kail, let's get the fuck outta here,” Choice screamed with panic.

Sirens blared in the distance getting closer with each ragged breath. The cold night air coursed through Choice's lungs and dried her already parched throat. Her heart was beating so fast, she was scared it would lead the cops right to them; that or it would burst out of her chest.

Kail let her hands rest upon her knees as she took two deep breaths. In through her nose, out through her mouth, she repeated this until her breathing returned to normal. After wiping away the beads of sweat on her forehead, she took in her surroundings.

The blood pounding in her ear clogging her brain, she ran through the empty pews and launched for the side door with Choice following behind her. They ran down the alley at full speed. Their arms were stretched out in front of them as they ran. They could feel them chasing them; the sound of their heartbeats filled their ears, their adrenaline pumping like ice in their veins.

They were vulnerable; they had never felt so mortal. Kail's survival instincts, buried deep down beneath the morals and etiquette associated with humanity, were pulsing through her like a second heartbeat. She could not fight or hide. She didn't know how much longer they could keep running. She could sense them behind her, rapidly catching up to them.

Their pace picked up and they thanked God when they saw the dim shine of a dying street light on the other side of the alley illuminating the car they'd parked. Without ever looking back, they jumped inside and zoomed off before the car could fully accelerate. They drove into the night as Kail realized her gun had fallen along the way.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she said, hitting the wheel each time she cursed.

“What's up?” Choice's heart continued to race.

“The gun.” Kail pulled behind a business and parked. “I dropped the gun.”

Kail sat behind the wheel for a couple of hours as she let the trail run dry. She had never been so clumsy since she started working jobs. She blamed Willow for not being there. She figured that she had snuck off to go see Duke. If Willow would have been there, she wouldn't have dropped her weapon; Willow would have caught it when it fell.

Kail ran up the stairs of the condo; her vision as red as the devil's skin. She flung the door widely, letting the doorknob bang into the wall, leaving a hole in the plaster. She wanted to punch Willow for letting a man mess up their hustle, and she intended to do just that as soon as she saw her.

Kail was furious; Willow could see it in her eyes as she walked into her bedroom without knocking. But Kail didn't want to talk; she wouldn't. Willow didn't know what to ask her. If she knew it was going to start a fight, she probably would have closed her door.

“You okay?” Willow asked.

“You would know if your ass wasn't so far up in that nigga's ass.” She stopped. Willow could see her eyes get darker. “Are you choosing that nigga over family?”

“No,” Willow swallowed hard, “y'all didn't need me and besides—”

“I don't give a fuck if Choice needs you, but I damn sure did,” Kail said as she banged her fist against the door.

“Kail, it's cool; we'll go back and find it.” Willow was aware about the gun being left from a phone conversation she'd just had with Choice.

Kail didn't listen, and she pushed Willow to the floor. Willow swung back around and gave Kail a full blow to the ribs. She howled in torment but still tried to fight her. Willow grabbed her as she tried to talk some sense into her. Sparring was one thing, but they had never had a fistfight in their life; especially over money.

“Step back, Kail; I really don't wanna hurt you.” Willow licked her lips, her voice was dry and her brown eyes were blazing.

Willow stood up as she pointed her gun that she'd grabbed off her nightstand forward; the tip of the gun directly aimed at Kail. She knew she probably wouldn't be able to talk sense into Kail with only her fist. She was past the point of talking.

Willow backed away a couple of steps, the cold wind blowing through her hair as if it was trying to calm her down through the cracked window.

“That's enough, Kail; come on, let's think this through,” Willow whispered.

Kail felt like Willow was treating her like a little girl. Her tone was implying she expected Kail to do whatever she said, with no hesitation whatsoever. Willow had lowered her gun. A mocking grin had formed on her face, the sort of grin you'd give a child when you wanted them to do something.

That thought sickened Kail; how could she think of her like that, like a child willing to do all her work? She looked out the window and saw a bird fly through the gaps between the branches, being free as what she wanted to be from Willow's pity. Kail took a breath and tried to think of a way to get past Willow. She glanced over at her momentarily; she'd started to walk over to her, the sickly grin still plastered on her face, her arms parted slightly as if she were asking for an embrace.

Willow was off-guard and Kail took the opportunity.

Kail put her hand on the top of the gun and quickly snatched it away, quicker than she ever had done before. She bit her lip and charged at Willow like a ravenous wolf chases a lamb. Before she knew it, she heard the sound of Willow's flesh being pierced, and the bullet from the gun was locked loose in her shoulder, her crimson blood splattered up, staining the pure white carpet.

Kail bit her lip harder as it started to shake. The harsh reality had just sunk in.
Did I just shoot Willow?
she thought. She looked down at her; her eyes were cold and dark and her face was an eerie pale. Kail's eyes then flashed to the gun and Willow's shoulder, then back up, then down again.

“Kail,” Willow murmured, placing her hand on her shoulder blade, “why?” She grunted as she tore the bullet out of her flesh, blood oozing down her chest.

Kail opened her mouth, but no words would come out; she felt numb all over. Willow forced her gun out of Kail's hand and dropped it to the ground with a metallic thud. Kail's body started to shake as Willow drew another gun. Her eyes were blazing again like sparks, and she could see the lust in her eyes. She'd never felt so hated in her life.