Anything but Casual Dining

Anything but Casual Dining

::CONTENT WARNING: VIOLENCE. ABUSE SUGGESTED::

Gabby wiped the blade, leaving red smears on her immaculate below-the-knee-length white blazer. A smirk played tentatively on her lips, one hand on the open trunk. She leaned against her arm, gazing upon the man squirming, bounded. Blood still oozed from his toothless mouth. Gabby chucked a little bag with his pearly whites in his face. The man screamed and Gabby’s smirk intensified.

        She chuckled menacingly and discarded her coat in the trunk along with the knife. She wore a bright blue dress, that cut down to her breast.

   “I have to meet up with someone,” she told her victim. “You’ll be my plus one.” She closed the trunk. In the driver seat, of this man’s car, she turned the radio on. Gospel music spilled out into the car. Gabby rolled with it. She fixed the rearview mirror, as she pulled away from a quaint little diner that was hidden behind a row of motel rooms. A small child clutched the arm of a woman. Gabby didn’t know if they’d witnessed the man’s untimely extraction. What she did know, was no one would miss him.

Gabby adjusted the mirror onto herself and applied crimson lipstick. She smacked her lips together, twice, satisfied with the outcome. Her hair remained intact during the man’s struggle. She didn’t struggle. It’d been too easy. Which would concern Gabby but very little concerned her. Five years prior, she’d walked off the stage, diploma in hand with the opportunity to go anywhere. Instead, she walked off the stage and tossed the diploma in the trashcan on her way outside. She crossed the track field in heels. She tossed the heels when she crossed over the football field. She wished she’d brought extra shoes when she entered the bathroom. She checked her thousand-dollar, vintage gold watch. A gift from her mother for completing high school. Also, a bribe.

           Her father had been arrested in her eleventh-grade year for the worst crimes imaginable. Gabby tested the waters but in the end, it was his business that afforded them luxuries. She accepted it. Anything to keep up the pretense of the perfect daughter.

           Oh, yes, she remained loyal to her dad even when he confessed to having her brother killed and concealing the body. (She’d been there.) She remained loyal even when he denied the charges of kidnapping and exploiting children. (She knew he did.) She remained loyal because it was the Provost way. The only way Gabby knew.

          Gabby stopped and filled a canister with gasoline. She left the car on with the music blaring just in case the man in the trunk decided to get loud.

           Another man was filling his car. He looked at Gabby and smiled, “The good Lord is good.”

           Gabby mirrored his smile, “He’s also a vengeful God.”

           The man’s smile weakened but he agreed. Gabby heaved the five-gallon tank into the backseat and filled another one. The man left. A woman pulled into the two-pump gas station. Gabby smiled, politely. The woman smiled back.

           “It’s a hot one today,” the woman remarked.

           “Blazing,” Gabby said and heaved the second canister in the back.

           Thirty-four minutes later, Gabby pulled up to the side of the diner, leaving the keys in the ignition. She pounded her fist on the trunk and heard a reassuring thud in response. Gabby’s heels crunched in the orange clay that traveled to the sidewalk and into the small checkered floored diner. The booths we’re a sparkly, vibrant red.

          “The night we met I knew I needed you so,” caught her ears. A warm, fuzzy feeling lurched itself in her heart and prickled her skin. Be My Baby by the Ronettes was meant for her. It took her just a second for her eyes to connect with her guest. In the corner booth, on the other side of the diner from where Gabby parked, sat a brunette woman. She was resting her cheek against her folded hands.

          Heads followed Gabby as she made her way purposefully to the booth. Heels clacked against the linoleum. Quiet talk buzzed throughout the diner, most likely to discuss how overdressed Gabby was. She grinned as she slid into the booth. Emily was equally overdressed in silky red. A waiter materialized and Gabby asked for water. Emily had already drunk half of her strawberry milkshake.

         Emily Peterson was the daughter of a high-profile hitman—or serial killer— that kept slipping through the fingers of the F.B.I. Her mother single-handedly raised her and her copy-and-paste sister, born minutes apart. Both with different agendas. Emily’s father popped up here and there for family dinners and birthdays. Ms. Peterson, never married, was a great fill-in wife. She cooked for her so-called husband, birthed, and raised his children. Her goal was for them to not become like him but she supported them, nonetheless. Emily didn’t speak to her sister and vice-versa.

         Emily and Gabby had been best friends since elementary and through high school. When Gabby had asked her to bring white coats to their graduation, she’d weighed the risks involved in getting into the family business. It wasn’t something Emily dreamed of doing. Still, though, she understood. She walked off the stage first, clutching her diploma, and went to her car to obtain the white coats. She placed her diploma securely in her glovebox. She handled the coats as if they were the most sacred thing in the world. They were, indeed. The more blood stains the higher the pay.

She walked toward the back, across the track. She plucked Gabby’s shoes off the football field. Opening the bathroom door, she found Gabby intently studying the Raven on the bathroom wall. In the bottom right corner were two initials: A. G. The bathroom mirror had been replaced after being broken an entire year. The Raven wasn’t meant to be a part of the décor but it fit with the school’s mascot. In this particular painting, the Raven barred chains. The wings had been badly damaged and blood dripped from its body. It’d become a topic of conversation for weeks on end. There was speculation who the initials belonged, too, but there was no reprimand.

Gabby knew. She was the reason her father was behind bars—for the moment. Since Gabby knew, Emily knew. Emily had actually figured it out before Gabby but that was because she was blinded by hatred for the girl. She was also the reason for Gabby’s desire to become affiliated with the White Suits. They had few women in their business. The ones they did have stuck to the attire. Being the daughter of the boss had its advantages.

         “Are you sure you want to do this?” Emily had asked. “Once you’re in the only way out...”

           “I’m well aware of the risks,” Gabby had answered. “It’s the only way to save my father.”

           Emily handed her the white coat and slipped into hers, “We have our first assignment tonight.”

           It had been easy. It had been simple. It had been fast. It had been messy. It had been invigorating. The F.B.I had the unfortunate task of scrapping the brains of one of their perpetrators off the kitchen floor of his one-bedroom apartment. Gabby and Emily were cleaning house. They’d been cleaning house for the past five years. Eliminating any leads they had to further Gabby’s sentence.

           “The breakout is happening tonight,” Emily said, slurping the last of the strawberry shake through the straw.

           “I’ve waited so long for this moment,” Gabby said. “How is it happening?”

           “During transportation,” Emily said. “They’ll be too busy cleaning up here.”

           The diner had gone back to its normal chatter, the anomaly of them fading to the back of their minds. Another song played overhead. Gabby had drunk three glasses of water and the waiter was bringing a fourth.

           In the seat next to Emily, the two Ravens were becoming restless. It was about time to get this show on the road.

           “We’re good here,” Emily said dismissing the waiter from his waiterly duties. He looked disheartened but listened. His eyes still lingered to the corner of the diner. Emily smirked, “Let’s give him something to entertain his eyes with.”

         “Sure thing,” Gabby said. “Let me go to the bathroom and freshen up.”

           On her way back through, Gabby selected a song from the jukebox. The song trickled onto the speakers. Hand outstretched, Emily took her hand and Gabby pulled her out of the booth. They slow danced to Foreigner”s Waiting for a Girl Like You. Emily trailed her fingers up Gabby’s arm and rested her arms around her neck. Gabby placed her hands on Emily’s waist. She leaned in and kissed Emily. They switched the positioning of their hands: Emily’s around Gabby’s waist and Gabby’s around Emily’s neck. Intently, kissing as if it were their first kiss and they didn’t want it to break. Emily pressed Gabby against the wall. Emily’s fingers found the small box on the wall. She pushed in and then down. The fire alarm blared. First, there was stunned silence followed by panic.

           “Everybody out,” the manager called.

           Waiter boy’s mouth hung open. Emily exchanged a devilish grin with him. His manager seemed infuriated as he hurried the dumbfounded boy toward the door. Waiter boy stopped.

           “The second time this has happened,” he muttered. “It’ll take the police ten minutes to get this situated.”

           The manager turned back to the overly dressed woman and opened his mouth to possibly accuse them when a car crashed through the building. The manager pushed waiter boy out of the way. Manager didn’t have a chance. Killed on impact.

           “Causalities,” Emily muttered, indifferent.

           “Ah, my plus one has arrived fashionably on time,” Gabby smiled, slyly. Emily returned the smile.

           Waiter boy skirted out of the diner. Car tires squealed away from the diner.

           Gabby went to the already opened trunk and extracted her coat. Emily had already slipped into hers when the fire alarm was set off. The Toothless man stumbled out of the smashed up car, flicking the knife toward Emily.

           “How old was she?” Emily asked unflinchingly.

           The man laughed a toothless laugh. Then grimaced, covering his swollen mouth with his other trembling hand. Emily would be trembling, too, if she’d rammed her car through a building, unsure if it would work.

           Emily shook her head, frowning, “My friend did a real number on you.”

           “Your father’s going to notice his clientele showing up dead.”

           Emily smiled, “My father ordered your assassination.” She checked her well-manicured nails, “You’ve become sloppy.” They were painted red and matched the seats Toothless had annihilated. “Leaving dead girls behind to be discovered by the police, like you’re trying to leave a trail behind. But that’s not what ordered your assassination.”

           His face twisted, as he tried to wrap the connections around his head, “You’re bluffing.”

           Gabby came from behind the car, carrying her phone, and plucked the knife from his hand, “You had no problem using that knife to get this eleven-year-old to comply.”

           “I ain’t leave no one alive, except that girl back there because of you,” he snarled. “I ain’t about to leave girls alive.” He lunged at Emily, hands outstretched. A small voice stalled Toothless and he stumbled over his feet. He turned, slowly, to Gabby. She played a video of one of his victims. She was alive, in the hospital, with marks he’d recognized. Having a conversation with Gabby.

           “It’s not the cuts you put all over her that made me realize who you are,” Gabby said, playing with her necklace. Toothless hadn’t noticed it before. He heard a screech coming from the corner. He looked ready to lose his lunch. “It was the bite marks you left all over her.” Gabby finished. “She’s not the only victim you left alive. But she will be your last victim.”

           There’d been a whisper. A rumor, really. Of a deadly group that was targeting people like him. They were brutal in every way.

           “And it’s not because my father ordered your assassination,” Emily said. “You were on our hitlist already.” Emily’s devilish smile twinkled in her eyes. She was enjoying this. She played with a pendant on her necklace. Something he’d not noticed before. Emily moved her finger across the broken wing of the bird. She brought the pendant up to her mouth giving him the chance to see them for who they truly were. “We were going to kill you one way or the other.”

           He looked back at Gabby who bore the same necklace; with a black beady bird with a broken wing. He heard the caw coming from the booth again.

           “You’re the Bloody Ravens.”

           “Oh, Em, he figured it out,” Gabby said with faux concern.

           This time Toothless smiled a toothless smile, showing his blackened swollen gums, “They’ll figure it out.”

           Gabby and Emily looked at each other with mock surprise.

           “I’m sorry to rush things, but I’ve got a prisonbreak to attend,” Gabby said. It wasn’t a prison break but it sounded cooler that way.

           Emily pulled a gun from her coat’s pocket. Gabby opened the backdoor to the four-door sedan and took one of the five-gallon cans from the back seat. She rolled her eyes.

           “You had your chance,” Gabby sighed. She heaved the gasoline can and started pouring gasoline over the dead guy and on the booths, both broken and put together. She trailed it on the floor.

           “This victim you speak of,” he said, catching Emily’s attention. “She must mean something to you if you’re going through all this trouble.”

          “It’s complicated,” Emily said.

           “Well, look here, dear, in case you haven’t noticed my life’s complicated,” he said. “I ain’t got no teeth. You owe me a memory.”

           “Not happening,” Gabby said, angrily pouring the remainder of gasoline on the wall of the gaping hole.

           “Can’t be complicated to figure out on my own,” he said. “You had to of known the victim, personally, because this sort of vendetta doesn’t happen over an article in the newspaper.”

           Gabby retrieved the second can and poured it on the car.

           He attempted to purse his lips together, thoughtfully, but was unsuccessful, “I never forget a face—a name, yeah, but—” his smile deepened against the odds of the pain. “Not this one. Autumn Scott, though last I heard she goes by her middle name, Grace.” He shook his head, “Didn’t she have a baby? How old was she? Sixteen? That means the baby would be—” He counted on his finger, “About six?”

Gabby remained silent. She poked around at the jukebox. She avoided looking at Emily but she could feel the hole she was burning in the back of her head.

“He doesn’t know where she is,” Gabby said.

Soon You’ll Be Gone, by Blue Busters played.

“Gabrielle, isn’t your father locked up because of Autumn and those F.B.I agent’s daughter?”

   “My father’s getting free tonight,” Gabby said, pouring gasoline around him. She opened the cage setting the ravens free. 

   “Will you be able to get your revenge?” Toothless asked. “Family is harder to kill.”

   Gabby tossed the can at his feet and swung her arm around Emily.

           “Soon you’ll be gone, and I’ll be all alone,” Gabby and Emily laughed, keeping the gun trained on Toothless. “I know your little heart’s full of misery,” They bobbed their heads to the beat until their line, “I still hope and pray that you’ll find another love someday,” They shook their head, backing up together toward the door. He made a run for the gaping hole; Emily pulled the trigger. The bullet lodged itself in the back of his calf sending him sprawling in the gasoline. Blood and gasoline mixed.

           Gabby lit a match and flung it toward the car. Toothless wallowed on the floor. The gasoline caught, and flames traveled quickly. Gabby and Emily walked towards Emily’s car she’d parked near the road. They turned just in time to see the explosion. Sirens shrieked in the distance.

           “Another one bites the dust,” Gabby said.

           “Sadly, another ten take his place,” Emily said. “Are you ready to face your dad?”

           “Oh, yes,” Gabby said. “It’s time to end this.” Gabby sounded confident but her hands shook. Emily reached for them and cupped them in her hand. The two ravens flew above the flames.

           “Will you marry me?” Gabby blurted.

           Emily answered with a kiss. She rested her head against Gabby’s shoulder. Gabby rested her head on Emily’s. Gabby, tentatively, stroked the raven pendant. Eventually, if not already, Emily’s father would begin to connect the dots. He’d come after them, and this time it would be his loyalty on the line. Tonight, was not the night. Together they watched the flames engulf the diner.