Bang, Bang Bubblegum

Ellie used a handheld mirror to make sure both of her pigtails were even. She shook her head, smiling at the way the long blonde curls bounced so freely from high atop her head.

She put the mirror in a zippered sleeve of her tiny backpack, pressed the button on the crosswalk, and waited on the street corner.

The spring air smelled of clean linen and sea salt, though the ocean was miles away. Mid-morning in this place torn between town and city was quite picturesque, she had to admit. Birds chirped, lush trees waved in the cool breeze, and spring cyclists were out in packs wearing their slinky little outfits.

A rusted Chevy pickup came to a halt at the stop sign, blowing a puff of dark smoke out the exhaust pipe. A man with a dirtied face rolled down the passenger window.

“Whewee! You workin’, girl?” he called out. The driver leaned forward, his face just as grimy.

Ellie dropped a hip and twirled a pigtail around her slender finger. “You wish.”

The passenger waved her over. “My friend and I got money. We’ll pay.”

The white emblem on the crosswalk appeared.

She stepped into the street, waving them off. “Sorry, boys. Not in my wheelhouse.”

“It sure as hell looks like it is!” The passenger hollered.

She didn’t bother looking back as one of the men whistled and the truck peeled off down the road.

Ellie chuckled. Men were so silly.

She had meticulously chosen her outfit for today. Her trim, lean figure complemented the fit-and-flare, pleated pink miniskirt. The white tank top clinging to her form left her breasts on adequate display, and the clip on bellybutton ring she’d bought years ago pressed against the fabric, outlining two angel wings.

Her chin lifted as she stepped onto the sidewalk, hips swishing. She looked good and felt even better. The little backpack smacking against her lower back as she strutted toward the convenience store contained a few necessary items like the mirror and lip gloss. And other things she never went anywhere without.

Sneakers and thigh-high white socks with two baby blue stripes on the sides helped round out the outfit. Jewelry was fussy, and so were the eyelashes she’d glued on before leaving her apartment, but they were pretty and fluffy and skyrocketed her confidence.

Ellie slipped into the alley she’d used as a cut through the past couple weeks and passed overturned trashcans, discarded food containers, and bundles of frayed wires amongst condom wrappers and old magazines. Rancid water pooled in small puddles, so she treated them like reverse hopscotch, hopping from one leg to the other through the remainder of the alley while ignoring the smell.

When she made it back onto the sidewalk unscathed, socks dry and shoes clean, she flipped one of her pig tails back behind her shoulder.

Those puddles never stood a chance.

Leaving the cars to wait their turn at traffic lights and the people to mill about the area on this tranquil Sunday, Ellie stepped into Mark’s Grocery.

The bell above the door stopped jingling the day before, so the owner didn’t look up from the counter when she entered. He flipped through a copy of RECOIL magazine, chewing on a Honey Bun.

Flies buzzed around the ‘fresh’ fruit on display. Ellie turned her nose up at a moldy tomato squished in the corner of its container.

An old man near the fridges deciding between the two drinks in his hands frowned when he saw her.

Ellie smiled back.

His sneer deepened.

She waited for a comment about her attire as his beady eyes perused her body, but it never came.

The man snorted and went back to his debate.

Ellie had been here enough that she had her favorite sections memorized. First door on the left housed sports drinks, the third contained energy drinks, and the second to the last door held grocery items—cheese sticks, near expired milk, waters, and orange juice that leaked out from under every cap.

She opened the third door and grabbed a sugar-free Red Bull. After a stint in Europe, she’d become addicted, drinking them more out of habit than necessity. Needing to kill some time, Ellie strolled down the aisles. She glanced at the door to the single restroom labeled “Not for paying customers. Go somewhere else.”

Charming.

The owner grumbled something to the old man who’d finally chosen a drink. They spoke in their native language, the owner letting out a smoker’s laugh as he bagged the items.

Ellie plucked out a pack of Bubblicious bubblegum and tore open the top. She waved at the security camera, showing she wasn’t a threat by pointing to the register and mouthing, ‘I’ll pay’. She popped the square, pink piece into her mouth. The watermelon flavor burst as she chewed. Sweet, but a little tart.

Th Red Bull can grew slick in her hand, so she set it on the ground and dug out a pair of headphones from her backpack, gently pressing them into her ears. She grabbed the energy drink and made for the candy aisle. There was one more thing she needed to grab.

Her lower back had begun to sweat, as the owner didn’t bother paying for A/C. She’d asked him why, and after licking his lips as he eyed her, he said he saved the cooling costs for the fridges and freezers. Tight with his money but loose with his tongue, she’d quickly discovered. One too many compliments and he’d have her blushing like a schoolgirl.

Ellie snagged a sharing size bag of Skittles. Having all her items, she pulled out her phone and pressed a button. Scrolling down a little, she pressed another, then put it back in her pocket.

With the store empty of fellow customers and the droll hum of the fan blowing hot air, Ellie set her items on the counter and wiped away the sweat blooming on her forehead.

The owner licked the Honey Bun glaze off the corner of his mouth. He smiled to himself, murmuring something in his native tongue as he rang her up.

“Beautiful lady, you are back. It is a pleasure,” he said.

She cocked her head. “I knew you’d miss me.”

He took his time retrieving a plastic back from under the counter. “It’s been three days, but who’s counting?” His yellow teeth were as crooked as his long nose, but he had always been kind to her, even if he was a bit off-putting to look at.

She spun the sunglasses rack and put on a pair with yellow lenses. “How do I look?”

The owner grinned as he typed the total into the rickety cash register. “Like a golden sunflower. To match your beautiful hair.”

She snickered at the compliment. “Thank you, dear Marco.”

The owner paused, his thick brows furrowing. “I am Mark.” He pointed a pudgy finger at himself, grinning proudly. “This is my store. Mark’s Grocery.”

Ellie smiled and squeezed her arms together so he got a good view of her breasts. He took the bait, as always, smile growing wider.

“Yes. But you are not Mark,” she said sweetly.

His smile dropped.

Ellie reached behind her, pulled out a gun, and shot Marco Iradelli twice in the face.

Blood and brain matter splattered the case of cigarettes behind him in a diagonal line. She chuckled, eyeing the Marlboro Reds. A quick death coating a long, drawn out death.

How poetic.

Marco lay crumpled on the ground with a hole in the upper part of his face.

Ellie pulled out the earplugs posing as headphones and started whistling as she put them away. After the barrel of her two-shot pistol cool, she tucked it into her waistband, letting the backpack hide the weapon once more. Ellie checked that blood hadn’t ruined her white top, smiling when she found it clean. The sunglasses kept the shells from accidentally hitting her in the face, and once she scooped them off the floor, Ellie grabbed the Skittles, Red Bull, and opened pack of gum, forgoing the bag Marco put them in. She didn’t want to be wasteful.

As she walked toward the rear exit, Ellie pulled out her phone and pressed one of the buttons from earlier. The door clicked as she approached. Back in the alley, she tossed the burner phone next to the bundle of wires she’d clipped a few days prior that allowed the faux maintenance man to come in and install automated door locks. She left the evidence close by so authorities would think they’d have something to go on, but she’d be gone before they discovered enough.

Blowing a big, pink bubble, Ellie waited back at the crosswalk. The bubble popped, and she peeled it off her face, shoving it back into her mouth.

Two cop cars whirled by, lights on and sirens wailing. They covered the exits to the convenience store, and four officers ran for the front door. When they couldn’t open it, one of them broke the glass, and they filed in like ants going into a hill.

A few people looked on, including Ellie. She blew another bubble.

Back inside her apartment, she dropped the facade, twisting her neck from side to side and tossing the backpack on the ground. Her posture resumed its slight slump. All this upright, breasts out nonsense these past three weeks had been agonizing.

She pulled the pins out of her hair and grabbed the wig, throwing it into the unlit fireplace. Her clothes were gone seconds later, replaced by a pair of mismatched sweats. She plopped down in the rolling chair and leaned on the desk, the only piece of furniture in the room aside from the mattress on the floor.

After logging onto her laptop and entering three different passwords, she cracked open the Red Bull. The sound echoed in the bare studio apartment. With the shades drawn, the drab, mildew-scented room offered little comfort.

Those pricks couldn’t even give her a decent place to hole up for the month.

Going through all the photos she’d taken on her laptop—the comings and goings of Marco Iradelli and his nimrod companions—Ellie highlighted the most prudent ones and dropped the photos into a folder marked ‘Y’.

After uploading the folder into the proper system, she typed “Done.” Ellie checked her watch and added, “10:43A.M.”, then pressed ‘send’.

Once the nameless person on the other side confirmed they’d received the folder, a message popped up on her screen. Coordinates and a date for her next mission.

She grabbed a nearby takeout menu and jotted down the information on the back under the section “Meals for One”.

Ellie blew another bubble, this one not as large. She deleted all the photos off her computer and closed the laptop with a soft click. She threw all the evidence of her fake life into the fireplace, and with a flick of a lit match, watched it all burn.

Her shoulders relaxed with each pop of the fire that closed the book on this mission and cleansed her for the next. Another target. Another city. Another fat stack of money delivered to one of her many accounts.