butdid_youdie (butdid_youdie) wrote in birthrightrpg, @ 2020-09-02 12:13:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | tasha sloan, ~summer rhoades |
Worth the Drama
Who: Summer, Tasha
What: Clearing the air
Where: Las Vegas, Blindeye Diner
When: After Taco Tuesday
Ratings/Warnings: Low, some spicy talk
This was it. If Summer didn’t meet her here, Tasha would have to call it and walk away. The woman had made a big impression on the retired hunter, clearly. She would not have tried this hard for anyone else.
So there she sat in the Blindeye Diner, having gotten the idea of using it as a venue from the meeting that had happened there. There was an untouched cup of coffee before her, and a slice of pie. Tasha had ordered the first things she could think of. She wasn’t really there for the cuisine, anyway.
Las Vegas was a tempting mistress.
Summer should’ve probably made her way back to that motel room in the desert south of here, but she couldn’t bring herself to truly leave the city. She had always enjoyed the bright lights and tall building metropolises -- metropoli? -- provided, and Vegas was her best, closest option right now.
There were… other benefits to the city, and Summer couldn’t help but smile whenever Tasha’s name showed up on her phone. She instantly chided herself for that, because the last time Summer let herself feel anything for anyone… well, that one night in the Denny’s parking lot was still a sore spot for her.
She smiled again when she walked into the diner Tasha had told her to meet her at, a charming little side-of-the-road kind of place that reminded Summer of the kind of place her grandparents would’ve frequented. The smile faded a little when she caught sight of Tasha, who looked tense. Come to think of it, the text hadn’t said anything about this being a date.
Trying not to let her brain default to worst-case, Summer slid into the booth opposite Tasha. “Hey.”
Tasha grabbed a fork and sank it into the pie. She had figured the best route to take was a direct one, but then she saw Summer’s smile and her stomach had swooped. It was difficult to believe that this woman had hired killers after her.
“I wanted to talk to you,” she started, then halted. It sounded robotic. “Can I just ask you why a guy held me at gunpoint and asked where you were?” Tasha leaned back against the booth.
Shit.
Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit!
Summer schooled her expression as best she could, even though her insides were threatening to become her outsides at any moment and her eyes still bulged against their will. She leaned forward, her elbows digging into the table before she waved off the waitress who had approached. The last thing Summer needed right now was something in her stomach. She replayed that night as best she could, trying to think of any moment in which she might’ve erred. Sure, she had been… distracted... but Summer had hooked up with people before without them becoming targets after the fact.
Course, no one else was as thorough as the guy after her now.
Summer leaned back in her seat with a long exhale, stealing a glance out the window. She shook her head and chewed on her lower lip before leaning forward again. She couldn’t sit still for the life of her.
“Long story or short?”
Tasha stared at Summer, completely bewildered. “There’s a short version?” She tossed the fork on her plate.
“Give me the honest version,” she said quietly. She knew they couldn’t be overheard, but it was still habit.
Eyeing the other customers and the waitress working the counter, Summer leaned in even closer, the edge of the table pressed up against her stomach. It did little to help her nerves, and it was damn uncomfortable, but this wasn’t the sort of conversation she wanted to have nonchalantly across the table.
“I’m…” Summer sighed and shook her head. There was no way this wasn’t going to sound completely messed up, was there? Killing people wasn’t a career one could sugarcoat. “I’m an assassin. Which was all fine and dandy until I just… decided not to kill a man I was supposed to.”
She shrugged with a cringe, casting a glance out the window. “I got tossed out here with a price on my head and no way of knowing who is or isn’t coming to collect. If I can survive for a month, I get the rest I’m owed. If not…”
She trailed off, staring at her own hands rather than watch Tasha’s reaction full-time. She wouldn’t blame the other woman if she just up and bolted from the diner, but that didn’t mean she wanted to watch it happen.
Tasha ducked her head, because she could feel a smile coming. It was almost funny. A hunter takes an assassin home, and has to fight yet another assassin. She couldn’t help it; a giggle escaped.
“Okay, I don’t blame you for not bringing that up on the first date,” she nodded. “But I did text you with a picture of the guy and a giant what the fuck, and didn’t hear anything back.”
With a frown, Summer fished the phone out of her pocket… because she didn’t remember there being any picture before. It must’ve been one of the nights Summer had gone back to her Searchlight motel, and the middle of nowhere being what it was, there was no telling whether she’d actually gotten it or not.
But sure enough, there was a pic there in the text window. She swore the pic hadn’t been there before, and the WTF that had come with it made no sense on its own. Tossing the phone on the table in front of her, Summer sighed in relief and ran her fingers through her hair. They were still shaking too much for her liking.
“Pic finally came through,” she said, grabbing the phone and taking a closer look at the unconscious man. “Gotta say, was not what I was hoping you’d be sending me. But I don’t recognize him. Don’t suppose he said anything helpful before going night-night?”
Tasha had not been expecting that. The picture didn’t send right away. “I thought you had ghosted me.” The corners of her mouth pulled into a smile.
“This guy held a gun to my head, asked me where you were. Told me there was a lot of money on your head, and even tried to pitch me on a job.” She paused, glancing out the window for a moment. “Yeah, there might be something I didn’t tell you, either.”
Well, this just went from nerve-wracking to intriguing. Depending on what Tasha had to say, Summer figured she had no right to be mad, considering she hadn’t told Tasha what she really was, and that had led to a complication in the other woman’s life. Then again, Summer didn’t figure “I kill for a living” made for a great pick-up line.
“So beauty and mystery?” Summer gave the image on her phone another glance. Whatever Tasha had done to the guy, it had certainly done the trick. She was equal parts impressed and unnerved; she hoped she never said or did anything to be on the receiving end of… well, that.
“Hey, long as you’re not looking to cash in on my head, I’m not too worried.”
Tasha gave Summer a look. “Why would I…?” She trailed off when she realized that the other woman was serious. She leaned forward a little in the booth. “Has someone done that to you?” She was incredulous, before remembering she was about to confess something herself.
How could she put this to someone who might not know about the supernatural element? She didn’t want to assume what Summer did or did not know, and she certainly didn’t want to ask. “I’ve been trained to fight since I was a kid,” Tasha began, fiddling with her coffee mug. “It kind of runs in the family.”
“Sorry.” Summer hunched her shoulders. “Paranoia kinda comes with the gig.”
She chewed over Tasha’s confession, wondering what was so scandalous about being a fighter that she felt saying so amounted to a confession. Her eyes darted around the diner once more, noticing that no one was paying them any mind; even the waitress hadn’t been back to pester them once Summer had waved her off.
Even now, with her stomach calmed, Summer found she didn’t want anything. Well, anything to eat, anyway.
“Well, that explains your insane muscle definition,” Summer deadpanned. “Seriously, your thigh game is… what’s the saying these days? Chef’s kiss, or something like that?”
Tasha laughed and rolled her eyes, a slight flush accompanying the compliment. “It’s the kind of fighting that leads to life-or-death scenarios,” she emphasized. “Which I guess you have some experience with.” She raised an eyebrow.
“I have so many questions, and I was prepared to ask them all, but then I saw you again and…” Tasha gestured to Summer. “Let’s just say it’s been a while since someone could throw me off my game like this.”
“I’ll take that as a complement,” Summer said, glancing to the side and brushing a couple strands of auburn hair behind her ear. The last time she felt like this was… she sat up straighter and cleared her throat because no, she would not be going down that road. Not here, not now, not with Tasha sitting across from her.
Lola Haskins was past tense; she had made that decision the night she decided to come after Summer in the Denny’s parking lot.
The indignity...
“Life-or-death,” Summer repeated, chewing on the words. She fished the phone out of her pocket again, giving the pic one more glance. “I pride myself in knowing everyone like me… but I didn’t know about you -- or this guy.”
Tasha hesitated for a moment, but decided to continue. There was something oddly comforting about talking to Summer. “Maybe because I gave it up years ago.” She took a sip of lukewarm, bitter coffee. “I’m from Seattle,” she explained. “Came to Vegas a couple of years ago with my ex.”
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, her gaze back on the window. “I was almost killed there.”
Summer’s eyes jumped up to meet Tasha’s.
“Seattle,” she repeated, cocking her head to the side. “That’s where I was. Before the guy who put the price on my head unceremoniously tossed me onto the side of the road in the middle of the desert.”
Tasha had already been alluring and attractive; there was a reason Summer had left her number after the night they met, content to not let this be a one-time thing (and also to keep tabs on Tasha… just in case). But if Tasha had managed to leave that life behind… Summer couldn’t remember anyone successfully giving up the killing life. Most everyone she knew who had tried were now underground. Literally.
But if Tasha could do it…
“You’re either damn lucky or damn good.”
“I would say just damn stubborn,” Tasha countered, the smile creeping back onto her face as she made eye contact with Summer.
“Did you just say you were dumped on the side of the road in the middle of the desert?” She shook her head slowly. Summer was tough, that much was apparent. And of course, that just made her want to take the woman back to her place all over again.
“Listen…” Tasha’s tone turned serious. “I don’t want you to wind up dead. That would suck for both of us, right? So, I guess I’m asking...what can I do to help?” The offer surprised even herself.
The offer shocked Summer as much as anything in recent memory. Sure, she had Noah from time to time, but Summer wasn’t used to actually having people legitimately in her corner. In her world, everything was transactional -- you helped someone so long as there was something in it for you, and as soon as there wasn’t, you cut the cord.
This was not that, and while it freaked Summer out -- anything beyond surface-level interactions made her skittish -- it was also nice. There was a certain comfort in knowing there was at least one person in the world who didn’t want her dead.
Summer reached across the table and took Tasha’s hand. She fought the urge to avert her eyes again, forcing herself to look directly into the other woman’s. “Right now? It’s just nice having someone I know is on my side.”
Tasha looked down at their joined hands, then back up at Summer. There was a small but poignant sense of dread forming. She liked being around the woman, but she hadn’t intended to catch feelings. There was no denying it, though. It was starting to happen.
Falling for an assassin. Tasha didn’t exactly have a road map for her life planned out, but this definitely wouldn’t have been on it.
“Where are you staying?”
“Some creepy-ass motel in Searchlight,” Summer answered with a shrug, before leaning in and letting her eyes wander over the rest of the diner. The fact that no one else’s gaze was even coming close to their booth was… unsettling in a way she couldn’t describe. “Big-city girl like me? That’s almost worse than having a bounty on my head.”
“Creepy-ass motels,” Tasha mused. “I know them well.” Part of her past work required traveling, and the days when a motel was where she laid her head was actually one of the better ones. “This guy, it sounds like he was just one of many. Are they going to keep coming?” She needed to know the reality of the situation if they were going to come up with any kind of plan.
“For the next…” Summer paused, rolling her eyes in a show of thought as she tried to do the math. How many days had it been since she’d found herself in the ass end of Nevada like this? “Twenty-four days?” She shrugged. “I don’t know who’s next, and I don’t know how many there are. I just know the terms of the…” She didn’t want to say ‘game.’ She refused to use his terms. “I was told when they threw me out, I survive thirty days, I get the rest of my money.”
Summer let her thumb drift absentmindedly over Tasha’s hand. She stared at their conjoined hands, wondering why she had reached for the hand in the first place and why she didn’t feel the need to pull it back.
“I’ve already had one come at me.” Truth, but not truth. Just enough to let Tasha know what’s what, but not so much to scare her away. Even though scaring people away was what Summer was so good at. She just couldn’t bring herself to do it this time.
Why?
“Didn’t kill her,” Summer made a point of adding. “But I don’t think she’ll be a problem anymore.”
“And after you survive?” Tasha wasn’t going to say if. She wasn’t going to let if happen. “What then? You retire?” She couldn’t see living the rest of her life always looking over her shoulder. Even though that’s pretty much what Tasha did anyway, she didn’t actually need to admit that. She could call herself retired all she wanted, but the truth was, fighting that guy had felt almost...good.
And that was a road best left untravelled. Down that road was injury, slow and painful death. She wasn’t her parents. She wasn’t that good. Tasha would help Summer, and that was it. Done.
Summer hadn’t given that too much thought. Not because she hated the idea of it -- quite the opposite, in fact -- but she had trained herself not to give too much thought to the future, just in case there wound up not being a future. Summer didn’t want that kind of disappointment hanging over her when her number finally came up.
Still, the thought had crossed her mind -- especially now that her most recent job had gone so horribly and she now found herself on the run. She squeezed Tasha’s hand again and gave a single nod.
“Wipe my hands of the whole thing,” she admitted. They had thrown so many zeroes at her when she first got into this life that Summer hadn’t asked too many questions. Staring at a lifetime of student debt otherwise, she had gone the financially prudent route -- which was to say, do whatever she could to pad her bank account as much as possible.
But even though her first few kills came with the predictable guilt and sickness, she had learned to deal with it -- mostly by only taking on clients who wanted the truly vile taken care of. That justification had worked at first, but the longer this went, and the more complicated Summer’s life became because of it…
Then again, she had tanked her relationship with Lola over such talk, so what did Summer know?
“Tired of living waist-deep in blood.”
Tasha nodded slowly, her eyes on the table. “I can relate,” she answered honestly. Though it was the times when the blood had been her own that had made her quit. Her mother had called her a coward for it in all the various ways that she could, without ever actually using the word.
“Okay. So we’ll just have to spend the next 24 days together,” she smiled. “I think we can find ways to pass the time.”
Summer’s eyebrows arched toward the ceiling. “I’ve got some ideas myself.”
Part of Summer wanted to push back, refuse the olive branch being offered to her. It was almost reflex at this point, and why was Tasha sticking her neck out for Summer like this when something as simple as a post-bar hook-up had almost gotten her killed? Maybe that was a little dramatic, but without that night, the hired gun doesn’t come after her.
Was that what the next three weeks were going to be like? The two of them dodging assassins when they weren’t busy being all over each other?
It certainly beat being holed up in that motel.
What was it Noah had told her the other night? Kill someone soon, please. Or I’ll have to worry about you.
If he only knew...
“I’m sorry you got caught up in all this,” Summer offered. “I’m usually much better about containing the collateral damage that comes with… well, with being me.”
Tasha laughed openly. “You ever have one of those days where you’re like, this might as well happen?” She shrugged her shoulders. “That’s been my whole life. Why stop the pattern now?” She left the magnetic attraction she felt to Summer unsaid. Yes, it was a large part of the crazy decision to get involved with assassin drama.
And yes, it was also exciting. Tasha never claimed to be entirely sane.
Before she could stop herself, Summer slid out from her side of the booth and crossed the table until she was sitting next to Tasha. She grabbed the other woman’s face with both hands and pulled her in for a kiss so deep it surprised even her. It wasn’t frantic and greedy, the way it had been the night they met; it was as if Summer was committing every detail of this kiss to memory. The softness of Tasha’s skin, the way her breath caught in the back of her throat, the scent of her perfume and the taste of her lips…
Summer reluctantly pulled back when her lungs decided they needed actual air again, but she kept her hands on Tasha’s cheeks. She smiled sheepishly, ducking her eyes again.
Summer had taken her by surprise, once again. She let herself sink into the kiss, her fingers burying themselves in the other woman’s hair. When they pulled apart, Tasha couldn’t take her eyes off of Summer’s lips.
“I, um…” She managed to look up. “I think you should show me this creepy motel.” Tasha nodded decidedly. “For safety purposes.”
Summer let one of her hands drop, landing on Tasha’s leg instead. The denim was tight against it, and Summer grinned through hooded eyes as her hand inched its way up the leg, growing closer and closer to where the other woman’s legs met.
Biting her lower lip, Summer cast one more glance at her surroundings. Still, no one noticed them. It was a reality Summer could get used to in short order.
Summer slipped her index finger into one of Tasha’s belt loops, tugging ever so slightly. She nipped at Tasha’s lips and cocked her head to the side, a strand of hair falling in front of her forehead. “Yes. Safety.”
The bed was quite safe. That much, she knew.