Oxymorons

She gripped the paper in her hand, trying not to wrinkle it. You had to be picture-perfect if you want people to take you seriously, which meant her steel grey pantsuit was ironed, her straight brown hair was cut perfectly, right below her shoulders, and her red heels had no smudges. The hallway leading to the office was long, and she tried not to sweat as she walked under the fluorescents to the formidable oak door. She knocked confidently on the heavy door, then walked in with her head held high. 

“Ms. Harloe?” The wiry man behind the desk, a Mr. John Royal, looked at her over his glasses. “Please have a seat.”

She handed him her resume as she sat down, giving him a bold smile when he glanced at her.

He looked over the paper with a cockiness she didn’t like. She decided to show him who was in charge here.

“Mr. Royal?” she asked, her voice devoid of any emotion. 

“Yes?” he tried to mask his annoyance, but he wasn’t as good at it as she was.

“Aren’t you curious to know the price of my services?”

“Well, now that you mention it, yes.”

“The price varies depending on how many people you’re hiring me for.”

“Just one. The Italian Ambassador.”

“Where will she be at the designated time of death?”

“She will be attending a meeting in France at the Palais Bourbon.”

Which meant a plane ticket. “$2,000.”

“No.” He shook his head at her as if she was crazy.

“Yes.” Her eyes burned holes into his. “How badly do you want this person gone?”

His eyes dropped to the floor.

“She has plans even Hitler couldn’t fathom.”

She waited, face a cold mask. When he didn't respond, she shrugged. “Death has a steep price.”

“Tell me, Ms. Harloe, is that even your name?”

“Yes.” She lied with an ease that can come only from practice. “Elizabeth Harloe.”

Aella Edwards.

“And how old are you, Ms. Harloe?”

Lying came in the job description, or didn't he know?

“Twenty-four.”

“And where are you from?”

She smirked.

“Everywhere.” That much was true.

He opened his mouth, but she cut him off smoothly.

“Do you want to continue to question me or are you going to hire me?”

He sighed. “March first, at three o’clock in the afternoon.”

She shook his hand and nodded once. "Done." She would phone his assistant later with the payment details.

---

The air outside smelled of an impending storm, and Aella hurried her pace. The apartment she was renting wasn’t far from the facility where she met her client, but if a storm rolled around she might not be able to get home without calling a cab, which she never did. It was too much of a risk. In her hurry to get home, she ran right into a man who was looking down at the sidewalk, also not paying attention. 

“I’m so sorry,” she offered her hand to the guy, and he took it, slipping and almost falling. 

He laughed. She froze. She knew that laugh.

“Thank you.” He stood up carefully.

“Leo?” Her tone was almost accusatory. Of course, he would show up at the most inopportune time. Now his life was slightly compromised.

His brown eyes widened.

“Ael-”

She cut him off, shushing him and looking around.

“Come with me.” She grabbed his arm, leading him to her apartment. “You don’t have anywhere to be, right?”

“No, unless you count the grocery store.” He smiled a goofy smile, and she couldn’t help but smile back. She never could.

They reached the apartment slightly wind-tousled and flushed.

She hung up her scarf and hat inside the door.

“Want anything to drink?” She asked, avoiding his inevitable questions.

“No thanks. But I would like to know why you dragged me to your apartment without so much as a ‘hi’ after two years.” Leo looked hurt, and she really couldn’t blame him. 

“Sorry.” Aella smiled apologetically. “But I can only tell you the minimum.”

“So tell me the minimum. You left school two years early and stopped calling a year after that. What happened?” He sat down on the couch as if expecting a long story, but what she could share was only a few sentences.

“I had a jump start on my career, and I just got caught up in my job. I’m sorry I lost contact, but I figured after I left you would have your own stuff to worry about.” She’s gotten so good at lying even lie detectors think she’s telling the truth. But Leo has known her since middle school and, even with the two years of not seeing her, he notices the way Aella shifts her weight slightly and narrows his eyes. 

“And I’m your mom.” 

She rolls her eyes. “Okay, mom.” He smiles again, and she can’t not grin back.

His eyes go sad. “You’re really not going to tell me?”

“I can’t.” 

“You can. But you won’t. Jeez, Aella, it’s like middle school again. I thought we got better at communication.” He’s pleading. She shouldn't give in, but this boy has always been her weakness. 

“I wanted to call you. I did. But I knew it would make me want to go back, and going back would put you in danger.” Leo looked quite incredulous as if expecting her to pop out a ‘just kidding’ at any moment. She sighed and shrugged. It was the truth.

The doorbell rang, twice in a row. Leo nodded at the door. 

“Are you gonna get that?” He asked. Aella shook her head.

“I’m not expecting anyone.” 

“So?”

“I never answer the door unless I’m expecting someone.”

A rapid banging shook the door, followed with a frantic, “Ms. Harloe?! Ms. Harloe!” 

“Who’s Ms. Harloe?” Leo furrowed his eyebrows. 

“Me, on some occasions.” She went to the door. “Who is it?”

“Mr. Royal’s assistant, Margie Brown, please open the door!”

She had passed the small woman on her way to John Royal’s office, and the red-haired woman had smiled kindly at her. Aella opened the door, catching the trembling woman in her arms when she collapsed in relief. 

“What’s wrong?!” Aella was now quite alarmed. When the woman didn’t answer, she shook her slightly. “What happened!”

“They came,” she gasped. “They came and they took him and they’re coming to take you too!”

“Who? Who is coming to take her?” Leo’s eyes were wide, and he was staring at Aella with a worried intensity typically associated with axe throwing.

“Ambassador Caputo. She sent-” Margie elicited a large gasp. “She sent people. They took John, and they’re trying to find you!”

“Why do they want Aella?” Leo turned to Aella without waiting for Margie’s response. “Why do they want you?”

Aella was rushing around, grabbing already packed duffle bags from closets and pulling guns out of the safe, (which was behind the couch), and Margie beat her to the answer.

“Don’t you know what your girlfriend does for a living?”

“Old friend, actually. And no, she hasn’t told me yet.” Leo smiled, trying to put the shaky woman at ease.

“Well, I don’t know the specifics, but as far as I know, she’s an assassin. A pretty deadly one, too.” Margie laughed at the slight pun, but Leo’s face was white.

“You mean-” he took a deep breath. “You mean she kills  people for a living?”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Margie said. “But that’s the basics.”

Leo sat down, and Aella walked in and used her foot to shove a duffle bag at his feet.

“Well, now that the cat’s out of the bag, you could die too.” She sighed. “Which means you have to come with me.”

He looked up at her. And he decided that, for the first time in his life, he would stand up.

“No.”

“What?”

“No. I’m not going anywhere until you sit down and explain what the hell is going on.”

She looked at Leo, the sweet, go-with-the-flow guy she spent all middle school and high school with. She grinned. He had learned to speak up.

“Okay then, since I can’t let you die.” He smiled, and of course, she smiled back. “I’m an assassin, yes, but a specific type. I’m hired to take out people that have plans for really, really immoral things, sort of the Hitlers of modern-day. This lady, the one trying to kill me, is the Italian ambassador. Margie’s boss hired me to kill her, but she must have found out.” Aella took a deep breath.

“Well damn.” Leo grinned. “I dated an assassin in high school.”

Aella laughed. “Seriously though, we have to leave. Ready to follow me into the world of moral killers?” Such an oxymoron, moral killers.

“No.” He linked her pinkie with his. “I’m ready to march beside you into the world of moral killers.”