For Love or Money

“..And in recent news, the Hollywood mogul is now happy at home with his beautiful bride. Ava is now partly in possession of his eighty million dollar fortune. And later today, we’ll be taking a closer look at the happy couple’s life at home here on FOX news...”

As the image of the blonde woman who had become an instant millionaire popped up onscreen, the young woman switched the television off, running her fingers through her long brown hair. She walked to the window of the little room that she called home. The threadbare curtains that hung over the glass were useless; someone outside could climb the fire escape and get a front-row view of whatever she was up to. She looked around the room. A broken mirror hung crooked on the opposite wall, and it was accented by the off-white paint that was peeling off of the wall behind it. The sofa, which rolled out into a bed, had seen much better days, and could stand a little straightening up. There was no telling what had happened to the olive-green carpet that she stood on as of the moment; perhaps dozens of people had accommodated this room before she had. However, she had bigger dreams than this room portrayed.

The girl rolled over on the sofa and started digging through her tattered brown suitcase. At last, she pulled out a short blonde wig. She knotted her stringy hair up in a tight bun and placed the wig on top of it. Over that, she threw on a long, black trench coat that held all of her personal belongings. Smiling to herself, the girl strapped on a pair of high heels and slipped out of the apartment building.

The scent of the night life was in the air, and even though it was past midnight, the streets were still packed as they had been in the evening. The city gleamed brightly with the overhead streetlights and corporate buildings that seemed to touch the midnight sky. The highways were jam-packed with taxis, limousines, and pizza-delivery vans. Men in black tuxedos passed by the neon signs of shops on one side of the street, and scantily dressed young girls giggled as they stumbled into nightclubs. The city was abuzz with life during the hours of darkness, and that was just what Krista had been trying to avoid.

She reached into her pocket, grasping the knife that had once belonged to her grandfather. The blade felt cold against her hands. In her other pocket, she felt bits of spare change rattling against shards of a broken CD. She looked down one street, then down the other, and in a quick motion dashed across the road, narrowly missing a large truck. She raised her eyebrows to herself, wondering what had compelled her to do that. Surely she hadn’t chosen to run out in front of that vehicle herself. She stopped at a nearby phone booth, leaning against it as if the cool night air would whisk it away. Frantically, she picked up the phone, dialing the number as quickly as possible.

“Hello?” the low, raspy voice said on the other end.

“You got the stuff?” Krista whispered.

“You got the money?”

“Not yet,” she hissed. “I’ll have it by dawn.”

“You swear on your life?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Krista hung up and called for a taxi. An old yellow jalopy, similar to those of your old 1940s cinemas, screeched to a halt. Krista looked around suspiciously, and then climbed in. The man in the front seat was your average cab driver. He wore a white t-shirt that he obviously hadn’t changed in a couple of days, and his tan-and black checkered cap was faded and distressed. His eyebrows met on the bridge of his nose to become one, which brought notice to the rough facial hair around his chin. He took the smoky cigar from his mouth and looked at Krista in his mirror. “You goin’ somewhere, ma’am?” he asked.

Krista stared at him, angrily. “What, you think I’m up to something?” she said. She became angry. “Because I’m not. I’m just trying to get to my uncle’s house for dinner!”

“Sweetie, dontcha think it’s a lil’ late out for supper?” He looked at her with his brown puppy-dog eyes.

“I don’t think you have the liberty to tell me when to eat,” Krista snapped. She motioned for the cab driver to turn around and do his job. “To East Pierre.” The driver heaved a sigh and revved the engine. It turned over a few times, being an ancient vehicle, but after a few cranks, the driver finally got it going.

Krista huddled up against the window in the backseat of the taxi, her heart pounding like an anvil. She hated these city cars. They always smelled of cigar smoke with a hint of alcohol and molded food. She didn’t have a car of her own. She couldn’t remember ever having a car of her own. In fact, she couldn’t remember much about her childhood at all. She had no fond nostalgia of elementary school, nor did she recall having any best friends. Sure, she had acquaintances, but no one that she could put all of her trust into. She couldn’t remember anything past what had happened a few days ago. For some reason, she didn’t like to be around people. Whenever she would enter a restaurant, the big families at the long tables would always turn and look at her, as if she were some kind of outcast. In shopping centers, the employees would always be uneasy around her. One time, even, she had entered a gas station owned by a family of Catholics. Upon her arrival, the middle-aged woman at the counter had drawn an imaginary cross across her chest and passed out. She wondered just what she had done to make people so touchy about her presence, and she was determined to find out.

“Here we are, miss, at East Pierre.” The driver turned around and leaned over the seat. “This must be where that kazillionaire lives, huh?” He smiled at Krista, but she didn’t smile back. “That’ll be—“

“Put it on my tab,” Krista said, stepping out of the car. The cab emitted a few odd noises, and then commenced returning to the heart of the city.

Krista shiftily scuttled up to the front gate. She looked down the cobblestone street, which was lit only by the dim streetlights and the headlights of cars that were miles away. Suddenly, a figure in black appeared at the end of the road. Krista motioned for it to come near. Upon approaching her, it threw its hood back. The man shook his thick blonde hair out of his eyes, giving Krista a smug, lustful look. She smirked back, knowing what he was going to say.

“Hey, babe,” he said, smoothly. “You ready to rock this joint?”

“Shut up, Christoph,” she said. “I’ve got it all worked out.”

“You’re pretty,” he replied. “But you look better without that blonde w—“

“Shhh!” she hissed, putting her hand over his mouth. “Just follow me.” She pulled the knife out of her pocket, unlocking the metal gates with ease. “The old fool,” Krista murmured to herself. “Didn’t even bother to get an alarm system. Ha!”

“I thought we were s’posed to be—“ Christoph started.

“Shut up!” Krista hissed again.

“…quiet.”

You’d expect a millionaire and his wife to think people were going to try to break into their home. Quite the contrary, the two made it up the hill rather easily. Upon reaching the large hardwood doors, Krista pulled out her knife and aimed it at Christoph. He flinched in horror. Krista said nothing; she just pointed the knife from Christoph to a nearby trellis.

“Start cutting,” she said. There’s no way in unless we get rid of these thorns first. Christoph stared at her for a second, then nodded and began hacking away at the thorny roses.

“So why are we doing this again?” Christoph said.

Krista looked up from digging through her black duffel bag, giving his a disgusted look. He immediately turned back to his work. Krista felt a chill run up her spine. She honestly had no idea what she was doing, much less why. All this time, she had been sneaking around, doing all of these things she would have never dreamed of doing. Now she was having roses cut off of a poor old man’s mansion. It felt as if she were being forced to have these things happen, as if destiny had all of a sudden decided that it wasn’t in her hands anymore. She didn’t know how to stop it, nor what the force was. Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud thud on the ground. She threw herself against the outside wall, her heart throbbing wildly. She looked down, only to see Christoph lying flat on his face in front of her.

“Sorry,” he said.

“Sorry!” Krista hissed, angrily, taking the knife from his bleeding hand. “Do you realize that they probably know we’re out here—“ All of a sudden, the front door opened. An elderly man in a dark blue nightcap peeked out, sensing that Christoph and Krista were there. They didn’t budge from their spots.

“Ava?” he called. Apparently, Krista’s blonde wig gave him some suggestion that she was his wife. Krista didn’t move. “Honey, what youse doin’ out there? You’s s’posed ta be at yer friend’s house, now, aren’t yeh?”

“I’m so terribly sorry, deah, I came home early.” Krista said, suddenly. Her heart jumped. Where had that come from? “I suppose I’d best be getting into bed now.” Her feet led her into the mansion, leaving Christoph watching her in disbelief.

“Now, honey,” he said with his prominent New York accent. “Let’s get ya inta something pretty fer tanight. Ya don’t wanna look like a hobo er something, do ya?” Krista looked though the window at the far corner of the room, noticing that Christoph watching her every move. “Now, why don’t I take yer bag, now, I’ll carry it up to yer room.”

Krista pulled her bag out of his reach. “No!” she said. “I mean, uh, I’ll do it. You go on to bed, and I’ll be there in a second.” She watched him carefully as he strode upstairs and into his bedroom. She looked around the room. It actually seemed like a pretty pleasant place to live. The tile was perfectly clean, especially in contrast to the carpet back at Krista’s apartment, and you could see a clear reflection of the glass chandelier that hung overhead. The two massive stairways that were carpeted with complicated crimson rugs collided at the top to create a ‘Gone with the Wind’ effect. Pictures that were obviously the old man’s ancestors splashed color on the marble walls. Krista shook her head and realized that she couldn’t just stand around and ogle at the majesty of the millionaire’s home; she had a duty to fulfill, and she was going to carry it out tonight.

She walked into the room where the man was half-asleep. The bed itself was almost as fancy as the main room of the house. Its posts extended to the ceiling, and made the mogul look like a dwarf. He looked so at peace with the world in his doze, it was a pity. Yet, Krista had to do what she had come for, yet she had no reason to be here at all.

“Honey,” she whispered. “I’ve got something for you.” Her heart pounded. If he opened his eyes, it would all be over.

“Mmm…yes, dear?” he mumbled. He was more asleep than Krista thought. Maybe he’d stay down.

“I’ve got a little something for you.” Krista couldn’t bear it. Her heart beat so loudly, she was positive he could at least hear it faintly resonating throughout the massive bedroom.

“Mmm? Really, now?” he said. He stayed burrowed deep under his blankets. “Would it by chance be fun?”

“You could say that.” Krista replied.

He rolled over, but kept his eyes closed. “Would it, by chance, be…I don’t know, exciting?”

“Maybe a little,” Krista replied.

“I think I know what it is now, honey,” he muttered, chuckling, “but I’ll take one more guess. How about…maybe a little pain involved?”

“I guess.” Krista was sure he’d figured her out. She had to do her job and get out of there as quickly as possible.

“Well, sweetie, if you really want to, then come on in! Don’t be shy, now!” He never opened his eyes, but he pushed back the blankets.

This was Krista’s chance. She reached into her pocket, pulling out her knife. She ran her finger along the long, sharp blade. Taking a deep breath, she thrust the dagger into the heart of the old man. She cackled with delight, pulling the knife out and penetrated his body several more times. However, in a matter of seconds, she and her partner were long gone, leaving the lifeless body of the Hollywood tycoon behind.