"It's Frank. It's really Frank."
Soft yellow sunlight dapples the floor of the screened in patio as a gentle breeze rustles the leaves of the trees just outside. I sigh from my spot in the chair near the door, relaxing in the gentle warmth the sun provided. I reached my hand into my pocket and pulled out my pack of Marlboro's, picking out a cigarette and lighting it. I place it in my mouth, letting the stick dangle between my lips as I take a deep drag. It's so calm and peaceful out here, a place I can just unwind in. I picked this house exactly because of it's seclusion from the rest of the world. It allowed me to hide away from the prying eyes of the public and simply be the loner I was always meant to be.
I inhale some more smoke, lazily blowing it back out into the air. I watch a butterfly as it dances outside the screen, flitting around happily. It lands on a wooden beam on the other side of the screen. It just sits on its perch, turned towards me, almost as though it were observing my seated form.
A sudden buzzing goes off beside me, and I am jerked from my reverie. The butterfly flies away, startled. I sigh through my nose and look over at my ringing phone, wondering who it could be. It could be one of three things. My parents could be calling, of course I would answer and would tell them about how well my 'comic book' career was going. Obviously they couldn't know my true profession. It could also be Mikey, my younger brother. He calls me often, and I love to talk to him. We are very close, and because of this he is the only one of my family and friends who knows my real occupation. The final option would be a client, but seeing as work has been slow for the past few months (only one or two jobs every two weeks), I assume it's Mikey. I pick up the phone and look at the screen.
It's a client.
I click the answer button and raise the phone to my ear.
"Hey Gerard, how's business?" A deep, thickly accented voice booms through the phone. It's the kind of voice you would associate with a mafia boss on a crime show.
"Hi, Richard. It's been better." I say in a bored voice, hoping not to let on about how slow it's been going.
"Sorry pal. Say, you got an extra slot in your schedule? I've got a job for ya." Richard asks. I smile, feeling excited. Finally! Another job! However, I mask the excitement in my voice, replacing it with a lazy, almost carefree tone.
"I think maybe I could squeeze you in. Who's the charge?" I flick the ash off the end of my cigarette, taking it out of my mouth. Picking up my drink off the table I lean back a little more, completely at ease. I take a sip as I wait for his reply.
"A guy named Frank. Frank Iero." I nearly choke on my drink as it comes spraying out of my mouth. Shakily, I raise my hand to wipe at my mouth. It could be someone else. It might not be the Frank you're thinking of.
"Any details?" I try to appear calm, but my voice trembles ever so slightly.
"Yeah. He's white, got a black mowhawk with red and blonde sides. About 25. Funny, huh? He's close to your age!" he chortles and my heart nearly stops. It's him. It has to be him. How many 25 year old Frank Iero's with black mowhawks and dyed sides can there be? I don't realize how long I've stayed silent until I hear a questioning voice on the other end of the line.
"Gerard? You still there?" I shake my head a little, trying to clear my head of thoughts of Frank.
"Uh, yeah. Yeah, sorry about that. I got distracted." I say nervously, my stomach churning. It's Frank. It's really Frank.
"Okay..." he says, a hint of suspicion in his voice. "You got all the details, right?"
"Uh-huh." I find myself nodding even though I know he can't see me.
"So you up for the job?"
"Yeah, sure. You can count on me." I speak without thinking, not really paying attention to what I'm saying. I hang up quickly, my heart still pounding. It's Frank. He's talking about Frank. Then the thought strikes me.
He wants me to kill Frank.
My stomach clenches and I feel the need to vomit. I run inside as fast as I can, making it to the bathroom just in time. After a few minute of puking up my intestines, I pull back, sweating a little. I flush the toilet and stand up, walking back out to the kitchen. I feel a little dizzy and light headed as I pour myself a glass of water, stumbling a little as I make my way to the small dining room table. I practically fall into one of the chairs, somehow managing not to spill my drink. I stare at the table, focusing on it as though something particularly interesting were sat in front of me. I stay that way for a while, not really thinking, just occasionally taking tiny sips of my water. Eventually, though, one thought makes it's way to the front of my foggy mind. The one thought I had been trying to hide. The one I didn't want to be true.
I just agreed to kill Frank Iero.
A/N:.....So? How was it? I know it took me forever to update, (SORRY!!!) but I hope this makes up for it! R&R please??? Thanks guys! :D