This is a short story based on a random Notes prompt given by S.E. Reid a few days ago. Here is the prompt:
Red Card: CAUGHT - Prepare a story about finding yourself in a sticky situation. In the wrong place at the wrong time, “license and registration please,” or contraband found in your pocket. Nabbed in the act or living with a guilty conscience. Can you ever really get away with it?
Orange Card: RIVALS - Prepare a story about competition. Siblings, regions, or football teams. Cat people versus dog people. Gunning for Employee of the Month, flirting with your friend's crush, sizing up the other candidates in the interview waiting room. Checkmates, one-ups, and sing-offs. Tell of enemies, “frenemies”, and foes. Who wore it better?
Blue Card: LOVE HURTS - Prepare a story about heartache. The misery of good love gone bad! The agony of the unrequited! Yearning for the people, places, or things you adore…or used to adore. Cupid's misfires and the danger of lust. What becomes of the brokenhearted?
There she was, as breathtaking as always. No, she literally took my breath away. I mean, I audibly gasped when I saw her. I mean, what were the odds that we would both be here? At the exact same time? Right after I was just talking to my brother about her: the one who got away.
Serendipitous is the word.
And there she goes again. She’s turning away and all I can think about is how great she looks in those tight pants. I hate to see her go, but I love to watch her leave and all that. And then I notice-
The fucking bitch is making off with MY family jewels! Wait, that doesn’t sound right. That’s not what I mean. I mean, they’re not my family jewels. But I was trying to get my hands on them if you know what I mean.
No.
Wait.
That sounds worse. I’m not, ya know. Not that there’s anything wrong with that!
Let me back up.
She’s getting away with the Alistair crown jewels. They were tucked away on display here in the museum. It’s surprising that she was here at the same time because the museum closed three hours ago.
It’s less surprising, in hindsight, once you know our profession. It's one that you learn not to say by name in polite company.
But enough of that, she’s getting away with my payday.
“Shit” I say under my breath as I sprint after her. It’s incredibly difficult to sprint without making any noticeable sounds. I’ve learned you can’t just hold your breath, because then eventually you start to huff and puff like some kind of big bad wolf. But after years of slinking around where I don’t belong I’ve gotten pretty good at it, I think.
“Double shit,” I turn the corner and she’s gone. There’s an open window out into the street. I peer out and quickly follow the only path available onto the roof. No matter, I know where she’s going. I’m not going to let her get away again.
Luckily for me, I know this city like the back of my hand. As I run from rooftop to rooftop like I’m the deity-condemned bat person, my mind begins to wander.
I’m thinking about the last night we spent together. It was hands down the best night of my life. We had just pulled off a particularly daring job. I’ll spare the details, but it was hot. Like, midday July in Phoenix, hot. But it was night and we were in Madrid. All of my jobs happened at night. One of the perks of the job. But anyway, there we were in the safe house. Our prize propped up against the cheap hotel wall. It was a beautiful painting of some half-naked couple, Jason and Medea I think, staring down at us. And what they watched us do, I’m surprised they didn’t blush.
My mind and body are brought to a halt at the same time. I’m here, and it looks like I just barely beat her, too. I see her crest a rooftop to my left. My eyes dart forward and I see her target: another open window in the rundown hostel. I run forward and jump just as she does.
We collide in midair, I wrap my hands around her waist, pulling her close to me like I did that night. As we crash into the open window my mind flashes back, my hands trace her body that doesn’t feel like it’s aged at all in the five years since-
Her elbow connects to my stomach in a way that it definitely hadn’t that night five years ago. The wind exits my body against my will, but I act cool.
“Hey, how’s it going?” The words exit my body in a breathless wheeze, but I play it off like it was my choice, as if only nerds have to breathe regularly and if you were as cool as me you could do without the basic necessity of air.
“What are you doing here?” she spat back, pushing me off of her while she got up, dusted herself off, and fixed me with a hostile stare.
“Oh, you know. I was just in the neighborhood, thought I’d come by and see what you were up to. Maybe help you with those jewels you got there.” Smooth, and my voice is back already: Double Smooth!
“Ugh, I should have known,” She rolls her eyes and reflexively double checks that the prize in question is still in her pack. It is, by the way.
“So who’s your buyer? How much they offer you?” I ask casually as I sit up and lean alluringly against the wall.
“None of your business,”
“Oh, come on! I bet the buyer I have lined up is paying twice as much.”
“You want to know who my buyer is? Your mom!”
What are we twelve?!? “Be serious”
“Serious? Okay, let’s get serious. Why would I EVER cut you in after what you did to me in Madrid!?” See? Now we’re getting somewhere.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lied. I also did a fantastic job of sounding shocked and appalled at the idea that I would do anything other than something amazing. “When I saw you tonight I actually thought maybe we could do some of the things we did that night again.
She threw a shoe at me. Which I guess I probably deserve.
“Oh, so you want to get yourself off and then leave me high and dry again?”
“I was gonna come back!”
“Oh were you! When?”
“After I got the money!” Like, six months after. “I got caught up in the deal.
“And is that when you called the cops?” My fake confusion suddenly turned into real confusion.
“What?”
“Oh, now you’re going to pretend I didn’t have to run out of that safe house. Like I didn’t wake up to red and blue lights flashing out the fucking window!” She’s shouting now as she crosses her arms and even in the dim light I can see her face burning red. She sits down forcefully onto the bed.
“I swear I never called the cops.” Maybe the first true thing I say all night. No, wait, I did mean that other thing about hoping for certain activities.
She scoffs and looks away, tears well up in her eyes as she fights desperately to keep them away. Neither of us acknowledge them. Instead we just sit there in silence until the moment passes.
“Look,” I take a deep breath and stare down at the threadbare carpet. “I admit that I may have wanted to spend my share of the money before I brought you yours. But I would never call the cops on you.”
She doesn’t say anything and I can’t bear to look up to see what she’s not saying. The silence builds up until I feel like I’m going to be crushed by it.
“I get it,” I finally break the oppressing silence. “You keep the jewels. You earned them. Go get your money. Enjoy it. Just….” I try to look back up at her, to meet her beautiful green eyes. But I can’t. I don’t deserve to. So I settle my gaze on the stiff bed she’s sitting on.
“Just come back here when you’re done. We made such a great team, you and I. Didn’t we?” I don’t dare wait for a response to the question. “Give me a second chance…please.”
God, I must sound pathetic. I wait for her to pass judgment on my poor, wretched soul. Minutes pass by in agonizing silence.
“Fine,” her voice is soft and measured. She does her best to not let any emotion slip out and show her hand. But my heart skips a beat and then starts running double-time anyway. “Wait here and I’ll be back by morning,”
And with that she walked casually to the door and out of the room. I let out a sigh so deep I was scared my whole soul was gonna fly out. I got up and paced around the room until I got dizzy. Was this really happening? After all those years of kicking myself for running away from the one woman that truly made me happy. Had I finally made it right? Were we going to frolic into the sunset, arm in arm, stealing anything that wasn’t bolted to the ground?
Am I dreaming? The thought slapped me across the face like a dead fish.
No, I decided. I can’t be dreaming. I don’t think this coherently. But the thought did bring with it the exhaustion that usually follows sprinting across seven blocks of dense city rooftops. I collapse on the bed, kicking my shoes off but my mind is too excited to let me sleep. It’s still racing back and forth across the rooftops, looking for her. It takes a couple hours for my brain to run itself down and I start drifting to sleep.
As I do, the last vestiges of my consciousness try to grasp something important in connection to the strange red and blue lights dancing in the window.
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Their dynamic is so much fun! I couldn’t help feeling a little bit bad for the narrator in spite of the poetic justice. 😅