Burn It Down, Part 1

The New Client

The email notification pops up.

Without even looking at the contents, she clicks REQUEST CAR, picks up her overnight bag and heads to the elevator.

She dropped the room key off on the way out, making eye contact with her favourite bartender, Asonele, across the hallway.

“Ms. Banner, are you leaving?”

“Only a short stay this time, Mfetu, but I brought you something from home.”

She hands him a small package from her bag and heads outside to the silver SUV that’s already got its hazards on.

In the car she confirms the drop-off and then closes her eyes, mentally going through her checklist.

Umbrella - Phone. 
Bible - Toiletries. 
Computer - Pajamas. 
Piano - Toys. 
Couch - Knife. 

She touches the spot on her finger where the tiny scar is.

6 stitches. Fucking stupid.

And the stupid doctor was so good at his job you can barely see the scar.

Why did it have to be that finger?

---

“OK, Navona, Breathe.

You got this.

12345, 10-4.

You did it. You sold to the most difficult customer you’ve ever had.

Breathe.”

---

Shit.

The email.

It was almost exactly 7 minutes, it must have been him.

Navona fumbles in her bag for her phone.

She never checked that it was him.

What if he didn’t fall for it.

Fuck, she didn’t check the email.

Stupid.

Shit. If that wasn’t him she needs to get out of this car, NOW.

She almost shouts at the driver to stop the car.

FUCKING STUPID.

Checks the email.

And freezes.

Navona…?

Navona!

Breathe, girl.

---

Checks the email.

It’s an international flight.

There’s a note.

She reads it and smiles.

He is not ready for the consequences.

She should have known he was going to be a sore loser.

---

48 hours later, Navona is having a mocktail and chatting to the bartender, Milo, when she gets a notification.

“I’m a bit early, immigration was a breeze. Should I wait for you in the bar?”

She continues chatting to Milo, eyes darting to the clock every 30 seconds or so…

4 minutes and 30 seconds later, she gives Milo a list of instructions and then replies to the message,

“Almost ready, meet you there.”

Then she heads up to the room for the finishing touches as Milo puts a whiskey on the bar counter.

“See you in 10, Ms. Forrest.”

---

Navona smirks at the mirror, savouring the contrast of the knife in its holster against her pale inner thigh.

Umbrella - Phone. 
Bible - Toiletries. 
Computer - Pajamas. 
Piano - Toys. 
Couch - Knife. 

She looks at the scar on her finger, then back at the mirror.

Sees the lightning flash in the pools of mud staring at her.

She puts the knife in the drawer and heads for the door.

This is gonna be too easy.