01:05 - Red (Willow)

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Willow sat quietly with Red, not touching her tea.

Red looked at his slightly younger companion, saw the frown lines on her face, and her light brown eyes, looking away, looking far away.

They hadn’t known each other long, yet Red loved her like a sister.

“Darling?” Red said gently.

Willow looked at him. He had an Italian and English heritage, a strange mix, but he had beautiful blue eyes and dark, curly hair, and an olive complexion. Red wasn’t even his real name.

But that was okay. Names didn’t matter to her.

She touched the scone on her plate, and grabbed her fork, gently piercing it. Their eyes met, and they didn’t need words for how they both felt, and how they could instantly read one another.

“I’m fine, Red. Don’t mother me.”

Red laughed. “I won’t. But do button up that coat, dear, it’s a bit chilly today.”

She smiled. “So, what do you have for me?”

He nodded and sipped his tea, looking a bit sour as he did so. He sighed, placing one more sugar and a bit more cream in his hot beverage, and stirred.

“I’ve given them the run down. Not too specific, mind you, but the bare bones of the situation you are seeking. They don’t know your name. They don’t know specifically your personal engagement with this company. What they do know is,” he paused to take a single sip of his tea and makes a contented expression. “That the contractor will be meeting you at this location, next week, Thursday at nine in the morning.” He gently placed a piece of folded paper in front of her. “Details of this exchange will be in the itinerary.”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

“Keep your wits about you. Be sharp. This will be in a semi-public arena, but you do have a bit of protection on you just in case?”

“I have Suzie-Q. She’s been with me since my early days.” She lowered her hazy gaze, focusing on her hidden holster, which she tapped and briefly showed Red for the briefest moment. Her Glock-19 (that Red saw that she handled with precious precision and a bit of ferocity); Red had seen her use it in action(at the range and also in more hardy, precarious circumstances).

He frowned, making a mental note later to ask why Willow had nicknamed the choice she-pistol that name, giving it such a ubiquitous, almost intimate sounding persona. “Do you want me to follow?”

“I appreciate that. I think I’ll be fine.”

“How are you getting on? Is your father still ill?”

She fell a bit back into her chair, and her eyes widened a moment.

“He is as well as he can be. Carrying on like some dying dog.”

Red looked at her with a bit of hesitation and almost a hint of reproach. But, he knew how her father was.

She had poured out to Red her family’s vomit-like way of reducing affection to gift cards and dialogue that was so contrived it could have been written for that long running television series The Young and the Restless, a show her mother had watched.

“Will you try to be honest with yourself once this is over… and will you please give yourself that tenderness and love you so deserve, Willow? You can’t keep withdrawing.”

“I thought I said no mothering.”

“I can’t help it, sweetheart. I have that maternal instinct hardwired into my brain.”

Willow laughed finally, and it made Red beam.

“You should find yourself someone nice.”

Willow rolled her eyes. “Absolutely not.”

“What about me, eh?” He winked.

She laughed again. “You’re too sweet for me.”

“I’m also too cute for you.”

“Shut up!” She said. “You are just… infuriating.”

He laughed haughtily. “Well, Willow, if you want the truth, I see you as my little sister—-and if you’re in affirmation with that feeling, then I truly got down the perfect annoying older brother role to a T.”

She leaned forward and took his hand. “I’ll agree with that.”

They both laughed, then sat in silence for a while. She decided to eat, finally eating the golden apple pastry and a few other items they were sharing.

“Does this contractor specialize in spying? As in… hacking or anything like that?” Willow asked, drinking her tea with relish.

“Do you know me well or not?” He sits up straight. “Do I vet out my resources throughly, or is it all to the piss and wind?”

She nodded in respect. “My apologies.”

“I believe that this level of treachery is something they are acquainted with. The “exceptional customer service,” seemed okay. I don’t believe you should have trouble with retrieving your goal.” He grinned at her, and she looked bemused.

“What?”

“I dare say that they are as bent as a nine bob note, darling. As barking mad as you or I.”

She nodded in an exaggerated manner. “Okay. Okay. Enough English witticisms! I get it.”

They went on with their tea without discussing any further business.

Willow realized in a perturbed thought as they hugged goodbye and Red kissed her cheek, that she hadn’t actually asked how he was doing or anything about himself. It made her feel sleazy and like a bad friend. She promised she’d make it up for next time.

She left the cafe and waved to Red.

She put on her headphones, listening to her mixed CD.

She decided to go and steal something to calm her nerves and then go back to her small apartment to gather up her information and plan the next few weeks out.

She was, from a young age, fond of taking things she didn’t need or want.

She’d go into a store, map out the front and back, check out their security measures(if any) and look about, checking for the item she’d least likely ever buy. She’d find an odd item, a silver bell that looked like an antique, a pack of baseball cards, a men’s wallet, a small pocket wrench, an alarm clock—-things she’d never want. One time, she nicked a pair of bright pink pumps, heels that looked like it could stab a man in the throat if she had him pinned long enough on the ground.

She kept them, along with the other items, in her closet. She didn’t care to open them. She just liked to steal things she didn’t need.

But, as she was walking near an antique store, a new song came on.

It inspired her, the thoughts that felt like they were drowning her and flooding her consciousness dissipated into fury. Anger helped her feel alive.

She thought of Red again, and frowned, going home.

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