Kim & The Hitman

home. The road little more than a country track and just the two of them. Tall trees either side thinned the closer they drew to the cottages that laid further up—each with their own security system. He couldn’t risk going that far and being caught on camera. It was now or never. He needed to get closer, to be in range. Putting his foot down on the accelerator, he drew closer to the car in front. Amused as a hand came out of the car to wave him around. Picking up the mobile, he pressed the pre-set number.
‘Goodbye, Michael,’ he whispered.
A loud explosion rocked the country track. The canopy of the trees swaying, evicting squawking birds. A fireball engulfed the BMW swallowing up the occupants. A pleasing sight as Vincent completed a U-turn driving off in the opposite direction.
He now looked forward to a long walk with Maggie. A brief rest before the next job. A private commission. The hit, a woman. A couple of hours of his time, at the most, easy peasy—money for old rope.

 2
 Kim
‘You look great. The style suits your face’s shape.’ I stood back to admire my handy work—no mean feat since Alice was in her eighties and on a mission to cover her scalp, her silver hair thinner on each occasion I saw her. Her eyes studied her reflection as I positioned a mirror at the back of her head. The silver hair curled in gentle rolls, fixed into position by a generous spray of lacquer.
‘Yes, good as usual, Kim,’ agreed Alice, squinting her eyes at the mirror. ‘How is your beauty blog thingy doing?’ she asked.
‘Okay,’ I answered. It was almost the end of my shift, so I wasn’t keen to get side-tracked into a long conversation. Plus, my throat was a bit sore, and I knew Alice was just being polite anyway.
Alice paid. No tip: she never did, always grumbling about the rising cost of everything and the hardship of making ends meet on a pension.
Opening the door for her to leave, the cool air hit my face, welcome relief. The sky was clouding over, several drops of rain finding my skin.
It was time to go home. Time to put my feet up, and if I could get Paul to give them a rub, all the better. Though he’d been as moody as hell lately, picking fights for no reason. We’d only been together for a month and already settling into old married life, though not married. I’d been thinking about it. I’d been eyeing a beautiful wedding dress in the shop over the road. It tucked in tight at the waist before spreading out in layers. Old fashioned, but then, I was a romantic.
‘You off then, Kim?’ asked Emma, breaking my train of thought as I snatched up my coat, wondering how many bridesmaids I should have and which flowers would look perfect.
‘Yeah, feeling tired.’ Which I was. It was only four o’clock, and I’d been on my feet all day. Most days, I could rely on my other skill; nails, my speciality, nail sculpting, when I could sit on a stool while working.
‘Haven’t heard you talking so much today,’ grinned Flossy, as she ushered her client to a hairdryer. Flossy was in training and was scrubbing up well. She worked with us three days a week, then two at the college. Until that day, only allowed to shampoo hair and keep the salon tidy. However, now let loose with scissors to lightly trim hair.
I put a hand to my throat. ‘Yeah, throat’s a touch sore, just hope I’m not coming down with something.’
I picked up on Emma and Flossy, sharing glances. Then Emma shot me a look,
‘Perhaps you could do a sponsored silence, be easy with a sore throat,’ she laughed. ‘Bet all the regulars would sponsor you,’ she added as she placed a mirror at the back of her client’s head for her to check. Emma owned the salon and was somewhere in her forties. I rented a chair from her, an arrangement suiting us both since I was a trained beautician and hairdresser with an NVQ level 3. She was lucky to have me, and I’d told her so more than once.
I didn’t dignify her with an answer. Yeah, I liked to chat with customers. Exchanging information and gossip. If you showed an interest in them, not only did you hear some interesting stories, but you got better tips.
Tucking my hood over my head as it rained, I left and hurried to the bus stop. I’d be so glad when I’d passed my driving test. I had planned to buy a little runner, something cheap as I had little money. And I was saving either for a holiday in the Canaries or maybe even a wedding, who knew? Paul and I might have only been together for a month, but I had known him at high school, though I didn’t fancy him then.
It was all my fault for getting distracted by Emma and Flossy; I missed my bus, so it forced me to sit and wait for the next one. Another twenty minutes, and it was cold, the last day of March, with the type of drizzle in the air that could ruin your hair. I kept my hood over my head, hoping to protect it, and scanned my phone for anything interesting. Two messages, one from the girls, to remind me we were meeting tomorrow. We met on the second Thursday every month for coffee and the latest gossip. The other message was from Paul, which was odd, ‘I’ve put your bags outside the door and changed the locks. Goodbye. I’d like to say it’s been fun, but it hasn’t. Thought you were only staying for one night!’
Paul was a bit of a joker, at least that was what I thought. An hour later, I got