The Secrets We Keep, chapter 5
Twenty minutes later Tré and I were driving to my job interview. As to what the job was, I still had no idea.
"C'mon Tré, why won't you just tell me?" I pouted from the passenger seat.
He sighed. "Alright. Now that we're on the highway and here's no chance to turn back, I'll tell you.
"The um, 'organization' that would like to hire you are not exactly the kind of people you want to get on the wrong side of. They are going to demand expertise and efficiency in all areas. If you do sloppy work while you're on the job, they'll either fire you...or worse. And trust me, you do [u]not[/u] want to know what worse is."
"Ok Tré, either your handing me off to a telemarketing company or your being evil and trying to scare me. So tell me right now in regular English what job I'm being interviewed for and who my employers will be. No more stalling."
"Does the last name Gavera mean anything to you?" he asked.
"Not really..."
"They are California's largest crime family. They've asked me to keep a lookout for candidates that would do well in a certain field of work that is run by them."
"And that field of work would be?"
Tré inched as far away from me as he could before replying, "Contract killing."
"WHAT??" I spazzed, the air caught in my lungs and I started hyperventilating.
"Yeah...that what I thought you'd think, hence why I waited until we were unable to turn around to tell you."
I took a few deep breaths to calm myself before I spoke.
"Are you sure it's too late to go back?"
"Positive."
I sighed. "So what happens when we get there and I decide I don't want the job? Are they going to off me?"
Tré laughed. "No. They take certain precautions when people are coming for interviews." We had finally turned off the highway at this point and Tré pulled into the parking lot of a 7-eleven. "Like now for instance, you'll have to put this on." He handed me a black eye mask. "This way you won't know where we're going from here on in so if you don't want the job you won't go to the police and give them directions right up to the Gavera's front door."
"Whatever Tré." I slid the eyemask on and reclined my chair. Hey, if I had to be blindfolded, I might as well take use of it and get a little sleep.
- - -
Fifteen minutes later Tré shook my shoulder.
"C'mon you need to walk now. Leave the mask on though." He came around to the passenger side and opened the door for me. I stumbled out and Tré took my arm.
"Oh, I almost forgot," He pressed his lips to my ear, "While you're here your name is Amber Reynolds. It keeps anyone from passing your actual name on to the police."
I nodded but kept silent. I had the chance to pick out an ultra cool undercover name and what happens? Tré sticks me with Amber. Yuck, it makes me sound so... girly. Which is completely NOT me.
Finally Tré gently pulled off my blindfold, exposing my eyes to a very bright room. I blinked a few times while my eyes adjusted. When they did focus on the room around me I was surprised at what I saw. Now, don't get me wrong but when I hear crime family I think of a dark damp interrogation room with a single shade less light bulb and a card table and folding chair. What was before me could possibly be the exact opposite of what I thought. We stood in a conservatory / tearoom. Three of the walls were completely glass as was the slanted ceiling. There were several bright tropical plants and even a few lovebirds. The room also contained a wicker love seat and two matching armchairs surrounding a glass coffee table. They faced the largest glass wall and the enormous garden outside. It reminded me of something out of The Secret Garden with all of the colorful flowers in bloom and birds flying around.
"Ah, you must be Amber." I turned around to find a woman that looked to be in here mid-thirties smiling at me. She held out her hand, "I'm Grace Gavera. I'm in charge of our hit men." I shook her hand and returned her smile. "Won't you sit?" Grace asked, gesturing towards one of the wicker armchairs. A butler came in with a plate of mini sandwiches and tea. I took one chair and Tré sat down in the other.
"So Frank tells me you've got quite the shot." She nodded at Tré. I guessed Frank was his cover name, as it was his actual name anyways. Grace continued, "Of course we'll help you improve on that and teach you a few tricks of the trade before we send you out in the real world. Pay varies from hit to hit, but you're looking at around five grand for your drug dealers and general annoyances and 15 thousand plus for anything urgent; betrayers and rival family members. Especially those damn Fontana's from Chicago, they're always buggering around." She shook her head disapprovingly. "But anyways, what do you say Amber? Frank said he saw real fire in your eyes when you killed that hooker."
"Well... the pays defiantly good, and any moral values I had are long gone. So suer, why the hell not."
"Excellent." She slapped a folder on the coffee table. "Training starts Monday."
"C'mon Tré, why won't you just tell me?" I pouted from the passenger seat.
He sighed. "Alright. Now that we're on the highway and here's no chance to turn back, I'll tell you.
"The um, 'organization' that would like to hire you are not exactly the kind of people you want to get on the wrong side of. They are going to demand expertise and efficiency in all areas. If you do sloppy work while you're on the job, they'll either fire you...or worse. And trust me, you do [u]not[/u] want to know what worse is."
"Ok Tré, either your handing me off to a telemarketing company or your being evil and trying to scare me. So tell me right now in regular English what job I'm being interviewed for and who my employers will be. No more stalling."
"Does the last name Gavera mean anything to you?" he asked.
"Not really..."
"They are California's largest crime family. They've asked me to keep a lookout for candidates that would do well in a certain field of work that is run by them."
"And that field of work would be?"
Tré inched as far away from me as he could before replying, "Contract killing."
"WHAT??" I spazzed, the air caught in my lungs and I started hyperventilating.
"Yeah...that what I thought you'd think, hence why I waited until we were unable to turn around to tell you."
I took a few deep breaths to calm myself before I spoke.
"Are you sure it's too late to go back?"
"Positive."
I sighed. "So what happens when we get there and I decide I don't want the job? Are they going to off me?"
Tré laughed. "No. They take certain precautions when people are coming for interviews." We had finally turned off the highway at this point and Tré pulled into the parking lot of a 7-eleven. "Like now for instance, you'll have to put this on." He handed me a black eye mask. "This way you won't know where we're going from here on in so if you don't want the job you won't go to the police and give them directions right up to the Gavera's front door."
"Whatever Tré." I slid the eyemask on and reclined my chair. Hey, if I had to be blindfolded, I might as well take use of it and get a little sleep.
- - -
Fifteen minutes later Tré shook my shoulder.
"C'mon you need to walk now. Leave the mask on though." He came around to the passenger side and opened the door for me. I stumbled out and Tré took my arm.
"Oh, I almost forgot," He pressed his lips to my ear, "While you're here your name is Amber Reynolds. It keeps anyone from passing your actual name on to the police."
I nodded but kept silent. I had the chance to pick out an ultra cool undercover name and what happens? Tré sticks me with Amber. Yuck, it makes me sound so... girly. Which is completely NOT me.
Finally Tré gently pulled off my blindfold, exposing my eyes to a very bright room. I blinked a few times while my eyes adjusted. When they did focus on the room around me I was surprised at what I saw. Now, don't get me wrong but when I hear crime family I think of a dark damp interrogation room with a single shade less light bulb and a card table and folding chair. What was before me could possibly be the exact opposite of what I thought. We stood in a conservatory / tearoom. Three of the walls were completely glass as was the slanted ceiling. There were several bright tropical plants and even a few lovebirds. The room also contained a wicker love seat and two matching armchairs surrounding a glass coffee table. They faced the largest glass wall and the enormous garden outside. It reminded me of something out of The Secret Garden with all of the colorful flowers in bloom and birds flying around.
"Ah, you must be Amber." I turned around to find a woman that looked to be in here mid-thirties smiling at me. She held out her hand, "I'm Grace Gavera. I'm in charge of our hit men." I shook her hand and returned her smile. "Won't you sit?" Grace asked, gesturing towards one of the wicker armchairs. A butler came in with a plate of mini sandwiches and tea. I took one chair and Tré sat down in the other.
"So Frank tells me you've got quite the shot." She nodded at Tré. I guessed Frank was his cover name, as it was his actual name anyways. Grace continued, "Of course we'll help you improve on that and teach you a few tricks of the trade before we send you out in the real world. Pay varies from hit to hit, but you're looking at around five grand for your drug dealers and general annoyances and 15 thousand plus for anything urgent; betrayers and rival family members. Especially those damn Fontana's from Chicago, they're always buggering around." She shook her head disapprovingly. "But anyways, what do you say Amber? Frank said he saw real fire in your eyes when you killed that hooker."
"Well... the pays defiantly good, and any moral values I had are long gone. So suer, why the hell not."
"Excellent." She slapped a folder on the coffee table. "Training starts Monday."
Previous | Page 5/5
