Page 7 of The Karma Project
Brandon is in gray sweatpants and plain black hoodie, clearly didn’t get up as early as Mr. Maxi Pad. I then look over at Dean who is wearing dark jeans and a white shirt that does nothing to hide the black in carved into his body. It also doesn’t hide the muscles bulging from them. To keep myself from caring too closely I move my attention to the man that hasn’t taken his eyes off me, Teddy.
Teddy is wearing black ripped skinny jeans and a shirt that has a movie poster on the front, the collar and sleeves look tattered and torn but in a fashionable type of way. His hair is loose and drapes just above his shoulders lazily with a few strands falling in front of his face.
“If you’re going to keep your mouth open, you might as well—.” Before Brandon can complete his sentence, Max puts his hand up to cut him off.
“Help yourself,” Max gestures to an array of food spread across the table. “Would you like some coffee?” He asks.
“Black,” is all I say in response.
He gives me a single nod and fills the mug that's in front of me.
I make my plate with four pancakes, two breakfast sausage links, a slice of toast, a scoop of mixed fruit, a croissant, and three slices of bacon. When I begin to dig in, I catch all four men staring at me. I stare back up at them and put a fork full of pancake in my mouth.
“Big appetite?” Brandon winks at me.
“I like a variety.” I respond with my mouth still full of warm pancake and sticky syrup.
“What’s your name?” Max asks, interrupting our brief interaction that didn’t involve me trying to kill Brandon.
I set my fork down and look glare at him, “Z. My name is Z.” Leaning back in the chair and taking a sip of my coffee, not breaking eye contact with him, “Why does it matter?” I question him back.
“That’s not your full name. I need your full name.” He grips the arms of his chair as if he’s about to blow.
“Why do you need to know my full name?” I cock my head and pinch my eyebrows together.
“I’d like to know the name of the person that has been stealing work from me and my… business.”
I can barely keep from laughing at his attempt to be mysterious about hisbusiness,especially since we’re sitting here openly talking about the people I killed before he ever got the chance.
“It’s not my fault that I can do your job better than you.” I retorted. With a shrug and a sigh, I pop a piece of bacon in my mouth.
I can feel the energy shift, but Brandon's giggle breaks the tension.
“You can deflect all you want; I’ll have Brandon here dig it up on you. We’ve already been through your phone.” Max states.
This makes my stomach drop, not because of the conversations I’ve had on it but because of the other dirty details in it.
“You killed Kahl Hera, and you have some photos of his family on your phone. Why?” Brandin interjects.
“Why did I kill him or why do I have family photos of him?” I pop a sausage into my mouth trying to appear relaxed.
“So, you admit you killed him?” Max chimes in and glances at Brandon before staring into my very soul.
“Obviously.” I lean back again. There is no going back now.
What’s the price you pay for killing a mafia king and running away for four years?
“And the photos?” Brandon asks.
“What does it matter? He’s gone. Dead. Deceased. Expired. Slaughtered. Six feet under.” Getting frustrated I slam my now empty coffee mug onto the table.
“Show me those photos again.” Max demands.
Brandon pulls out my phone and passes it to Max who stares intently at the screen and back at me.
“Z… What is your name?” Max asks, now in a tone that would put the fear of God in anyone else.
“Z-Zoe.” I choke out.
