Sooner or later, one must find a balance in their lives. A way to keep things together, to hold on no matter how tantalizing it may seem to jump. For me, my life hung so precariously in the middle of love and hate, of beauty so raw and a hideous mask I was forced to cower behind.
It started like most morning, waking to a tangle of sheets and a thin sheen of sweat coating my body. My black hair was a mess, pushed roughly away from my face. My room was even more of a disaster, but things like that had never phased me.
I glanced over at the man beside me; he was still fast asleep. Rolling my icy blue eyes, I rose from the bed and sauntered across the room to the bathroom. Closing the door with a small click, I turned to face myself in the mirror. There was a devious gleam in my eyes, one I could never quite shake. My naked body was slender and pale, bruised from the previous night. The surface bruises never bothered me. Those were the ones that went away.
Shrugging at my own reflection, I returned to the bedroom. Paused at the edge of my king sized bed in case the dark haired beast might stir. He'd been quite the lover, even if I couldnt remember his name to save my life. Now, though, I really just wanted him out of my apartment so that I might throw back the covers, put on some obnoxious rave music, and have a few morning shots.
What I did not expect was the doorbell to sound. I flinched at the harsh noise as it cut through the reverberating silence. "Shit," I muttered under my breath. I looked about for some sort of clothes, found only his black button down shirt. Good enough. I slipped my arms in and fasted a few of the buttons on the way to the door.
I pulled open the door and peered around into the hallway with narrowed eyes.The man on the other side was wearing a neatly pressed black suit, hair trimmed close to his head. "Can I help you?" I asked, unable to keep the suspicion out of my voice. It was nine in the morning, for Christ's sake. Didnt people have manners these days?
"Miss Hamilton?" He returned, oblivious to my snippy tone. I nodded. "My name is Jeremy Simmons and I'm with the CIA."
Okay, call me crazy. But I just cant think of any logical, good reason for the CIA to show up at your door at nine am. So I was mentally running through my last week, desperately racking my mind for anything that I could remember, when he asked if he could come in.
Saying no to a CIA agent isnt high on my priority list. I pulled the door back the rest of the way and stepped aside, allowing him into my home. Hoping that anything...questionable was out of sight.
I figure now would be the best time to come clean. I'm not just the average twenty-three year old, who drinks a little too much and falls in bed with complete strangers. No, that was more like a side job for me. Behind the flawless mask of innocence, of sensual allure, I was so much more.
Not that I wanted him to know that. I led Agent Simmons into my kitchen, motioning at the table. Wishing I had a pair of underwear on, or at the very least a bra. Simmons wasnt making any movement, so I assumed he was to remain standing.
"So," I began nervously. "To what do I owe this visit?"
"Miss Hamilton, the CIA has become increasingly interested in your...skills," he told me in that authoritative voice. I knit my brows together at his words. "We believe the county is under a great threat. We believe that we can assemble a team of people who could divert this crisis."
"And?" I was obviously missing something. "Where do I fit into this?"
"We want you on this team." Final. Like I had no choice in it all. The agent handed me a piece of paper, upon which was scrawled an unfamiliar address. "If you're interested, meet us here on Friday night."
I nodded, folded it up and dropped it onto the counter. "Is that all?" I asked, cocking my head to the side. This had all become much too surreal for me, and I really needed to crawl back into bed. Have a drink. Smoke a cigarette and clear my head.
Agent Simmons nodded as well, so I led him back to the door. He left, and I locked the door behind him.
Wonderful. Not even ten minutes into my day and I'd already run into the CIA. Life in the fast lane just couldnt get any more intense. And I hadnt even killed anyone.