be ruled a suicide, even. I could have just tripped. High heels aren't the best things to be wearing when near high ledges. Maybe I'd land on one of those bastards prized limos or sports cars and destroy it. Ruin their day a little as my final fuck you.
I chugged more of my whiskey. I needed the courage if I was going to even think of doing what I was doing - to escape this golden prison of a life.
"Drinking that much whiskey is like that is an excellent way to get alcohol poisoning."
The voice shocked me out of my own depressed little world. I jumped, turning around, and twisting a heel. I was falling backwards, my arms stretched out and flailing, dropping the whiskey bottle over the side of the building.
Panic only seemed to make my balance worse. I was about to follow my drink.
If it weren't for him, I would have. Swift, he was too me, pulling me away from the ledge, and holding me close.
"Seems like you're serious about killing yourself. I mean, back up plans and everything. If the liquor failed to kill you, the fall definitely would have."
I was still shocked, looking into his eyes.
"You're a beautiful woman. Face planting on concrete would be a terrible loss for the world."
I blushed, then laughed. Cheesy as hell, there was something sincere about it. I looked to my hero. Tall and tanned. He had black hair that went down to his neck, straight and slick. Light stubble around his face. In a field of old men who were wrinkled and fat with their evil, he was a sight for sore eyes. Even among a bunch of male models, though, he'd still be a sight for sore eyes.
His hand broke from mine, and I covered my heart, closing my eyes. "Thank you, but yes, I would have welcomed death."
"A shame, really. Losing you would be a loss to the world's beauty."
"You already said that."
"Your beauty is on more than one level, so I felt it needed to be expressed twice."
My eyebrow raised. "I - I don't follow?"
"Beauty is about more than appearance, my dear Rena."
"Excuse me?" My mouth dropped open. "How - how did you know my name?" I glanced down, seeing if I had accidentally started wearing a name-tag again.
"It's just what I do." He was wearing a black suit, no tie, a blue undershirt. Out of one of the pockets of his suit pants, he pulled out a card. "Here, allow me to introduce myself."
"Guy Ortiz. Consultant and Problem Solver?" It was a simple card, one that was direct and without frills.
"Yes. Years of training with international governments have made me an expert in finding out information about people. Learning their lives, learning their routines. I use that information excellently."
"You've been following me?"
"Your life hasn't been hard to follow in the past few years. You're atypical - a commoner among royalty. Your family hasn't built up secrets that they needed to guard. Finding out everything about you," Guy snapped his fingers, "is as easy as that."
"How does this - um, apply to problem solving?" I was trying to process how - or more importantly, why - this man knew so much about me. Why was he here talking to me, handing me his business card?
"Once I have accumulated the knowledge, I use it to eliminate problems."
"Eliminate?"
"I talk in generalities because I never know who might be listening and what I do isn't exactly legal. But," he made a gesture and a sound of him slitting his own throat.
I blinked. Swallowed. Stared. "Wait, you're a hit man?" I finally managed to speak.
"Well if you're going to spill it out like that, yes. Assassin sounds cooler so I usually say that when I can be frank."
"You- you're here to kill me, aren't you?" Lester had gotten tired of me, I should have expected he was capable of such things. I took a deep breath. Well, I wanted to die, didn't I?
"Heavens no, Rena." I exhaled at his word. "If I wanted you dead, I would have let you spill over the ledge there. I can't beat a job well done to the point I didn't even have to lift a finger."
"Why are you here then?
I chugged more of my whiskey. I needed the courage if I was going to even think of doing what I was doing - to escape this golden prison of a life.
"Drinking that much whiskey is like that is an excellent way to get alcohol poisoning."
The voice shocked me out of my own depressed little world. I jumped, turning around, and twisting a heel. I was falling backwards, my arms stretched out and flailing, dropping the whiskey bottle over the side of the building.
Panic only seemed to make my balance worse. I was about to follow my drink.
If it weren't for him, I would have. Swift, he was too me, pulling me away from the ledge, and holding me close.
"Seems like you're serious about killing yourself. I mean, back up plans and everything. If the liquor failed to kill you, the fall definitely would have."
I was still shocked, looking into his eyes.
"You're a beautiful woman. Face planting on concrete would be a terrible loss for the world."
I blushed, then laughed. Cheesy as hell, there was something sincere about it. I looked to my hero. Tall and tanned. He had black hair that went down to his neck, straight and slick. Light stubble around his face. In a field of old men who were wrinkled and fat with their evil, he was a sight for sore eyes. Even among a bunch of male models, though, he'd still be a sight for sore eyes.
His hand broke from mine, and I covered my heart, closing my eyes. "Thank you, but yes, I would have welcomed death."
"A shame, really. Losing you would be a loss to the world's beauty."
"You already said that."
"Your beauty is on more than one level, so I felt it needed to be expressed twice."
My eyebrow raised. "I - I don't follow?"
"Beauty is about more than appearance, my dear Rena."
"Excuse me?" My mouth dropped open. "How - how did you know my name?" I glanced down, seeing if I had accidentally started wearing a name-tag again.
"It's just what I do." He was wearing a black suit, no tie, a blue undershirt. Out of one of the pockets of his suit pants, he pulled out a card. "Here, allow me to introduce myself."
"Guy Ortiz. Consultant and Problem Solver?" It was a simple card, one that was direct and without frills.
"Yes. Years of training with international governments have made me an expert in finding out information about people. Learning their lives, learning their routines. I use that information excellently."
"You've been following me?"
"Your life hasn't been hard to follow in the past few years. You're atypical - a commoner among royalty. Your family hasn't built up secrets that they needed to guard. Finding out everything about you," Guy snapped his fingers, "is as easy as that."
"How does this - um, apply to problem solving?" I was trying to process how - or more importantly, why - this man knew so much about me. Why was he here talking to me, handing me his business card?
"Once I have accumulated the knowledge, I use it to eliminate problems."
"Eliminate?"
"I talk in generalities because I never know who might be listening and what I do isn't exactly legal. But," he made a gesture and a sound of him slitting his own throat.
I blinked. Swallowed. Stared. "Wait, you're a hit man?" I finally managed to speak.
"Well if you're going to spill it out like that, yes. Assassin sounds cooler so I usually say that when I can be frank."
"You- you're here to kill me, aren't you?" Lester had gotten tired of me, I should have expected he was capable of such things. I took a deep breath. Well, I wanted to die, didn't I?
"Heavens no, Rena." I exhaled at his word. "If I wanted you dead, I would have let you spill over the ledge there. I can't beat a job well done to the point I didn't even have to lift a finger."
"Why are you here then?
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