He could help but think he had pissed her off.
That night, Angelo wasn't sure where he was supposed to meet Jazelle for the job, and she wasn't answering his texts. He wondered what she might do: yell at him, hit him, leave his texts on read for days, turn him in to his father for accepting his help. Every possibility ran through his head in a flashfire panic, and he couldn't slow it down.
He walked through the dark streets and alleys of Los Angeles, California with his head down and his hood up. Los Angeles was the city he lived in for part of his life, except back when he was small and his mother took him traveling all over the world. Mexico, India, Switzerland, Germany, etcetera. He didn't even remember most of the places he went to, but he would always prefer that time of his life over now.
Angelo hated that he was walking to this mission alone. He wished that Jazelle had waited for him in his room or something, but unfortunately, he was dragging his ass alone along empty, dangerous streets. He wasn't concerned for his safety, but he was angry and scared about Jazelle not giving him a plan. How was he supposed to know where to meet her? What was he supposed to do when he got there? Was there even anything to do or had she done the job without him?
He was expecting anything – except for seeing her waiting for him out in the open.
A smile spread across her pale features as soon as she saw him round the corner, grinning wildly as she bounced on her heels. Jazelle didn't hesitate – hesitation was the last thing on her list when choosing to react to something – she just immediately skipped towards him and wrapped her arms around him.
"Hey!" She purred, excited. "I was wondering when you'd show up."
She let go with her grin still intact, but Angelo wasn't so quick to smile. He never really smiled, anyway – he gave a smirk or quirked the corner of his mouth, but nothing that really said he was smiling. He just carefully pulled his hands out of his pockets (no, he didn't hug her back, either) and started to move.
You didn't answer my texts. He signed slowly.
Jazelle's smile faded into mock confusion. "Texts? You texted me? I didn't see them."
Angelo knew she was lying, but he didn't care. He glanced over her shoulder at the parking lot behind her, where the apartment building sat, sad and lonely. Only a few lights were on, and there were three apartments. Angelo knew that one of them held their target, the second held a man paid off to not bat an eye, and the third an elderly woman who had a bit of a problem with her memory.
"Ready to go?" She asked chipperly.
Cameras? He asked, glancing around.
"They're put on loop," She said. "Had a favour from Jeremy."
Angelo nodded, glancing between the two cameras he saw on either side of the apartment building. The three homes were connected by the walls and had one big porch with separate stairs that led to a door each of the three apartments there. His target was on the far right, and that's exactly where Jazelle headed off to. He let her take the lead, but maybe that wasn't such a good idea, because she walked right up to the door and kicked it in without hesitation.
"Payment?" She called sweetly.
She kept walking without falter, into the apartment and into the man's home. It was messy, looked half packed, and partially abandoned. The man was over by the kitchen, past the living room the front door led to, and stumbled away past two doors that were presumably bathroom and bedroom. Now he was at the window, but he grabbed something from a duffel bag and pointed it at Jazelle – a gun.
"Stay back!" He yelled.
"Oh, no!" She pouted, putting her hands up and continuing to walk. "Damn, my only weakness – guns! How foolish of me, I really should have come more prepared-"
Before she even crossed the room, she flicked her wrist and some type of dart shot out of her hidden gauntlet under her leather jacket. It stabbed the man in the shoulder, and he yelped, firing off a few shots. However, she didn't bother with waiting, she just dodged past that flailing gun and grabbed his hand, twisting it roughly and slamming his head off her knee by grabbing his collar. Once she had the gun, she pointed it at his leg and shot into his kneecap, making him scream and collapse.
"Payment?" She purred again, past his crying.
Angelo stood at the door, watching all this silently. When Jazelle glanced back at him, he knew what his role was: stay out of the way. He closed the door and stepped into the apartment slowly, past broken alcohol bottles and half smoked cigarettes, overfilled trashes and torn up furniture. He started searching – if he found enough money, the man would be spared, and it didn't matter to him that it would be known that Jazelle had helped him.
"I don't have your fucking money, bitch!" He screamed.
He was holding his shattered and probably no longer of use leg. For the rest of his life, if he survived, he would be on a crutch. Angelo searched harder, refusing to give up.
"Will you ever?" Jazelle yawned.
"I don't-" The man was hyperventilating, tears in his eyes. "I don't fucking know!"
The ruthless woman hummed. "I don't like that answer." She said, pressing the gun to his head.
"Yes! Yes!" He cried desperately, trying to scoot back but only meeting the wall with the window. "I'll get your money!"
"Really?" Jazelle drawled. "It's been a year since your last payment. How do we know you'll pay?"
"Ah- uh-" He moaned in pain before answering. "I-I'll take out a bank loan!"
"You're a drunkard who works as a janitor at a grade school." She sighed. "You'll never get approved for a loan with a credit score lower than your ass."
"Then I-I'll do work for you!" He stammered desperately.
"Really?" She groaned. "You break like a rat. We couldn't trust you more than a pile of shit with our bank statements. No thanks."
"W-Well," He struggled, growing pale from blood loss. "What do you want?"
"Three hundred," She scowled. "Now."
Angelo was searching relentlessly, but after this long, the man was going to die of blood loss before he found more than fifteen dollars in ones and a roll of half missing quarters. He was desperate enough to be searching through kitchen cabinets, but all he saw was a couple jars of peanut butter and some partially mouldy bread. This guy… he didn't seem like he was living well, even if it meant going to the bar the other night. He probably had friends pay for him, and that cash he won had likely gone to rent.
"I don't- have it." The man cowered.
Jazelle clicked the safety on and off menacingly. "Then you're useless."
"Wait!" The man cried, authentically terrified. "Please! I have children!"
The woman groaned loudly. "You're divorced twice with three kids who don't know you exist because you don't pay child support and never visit."
"I want to visit them!" He sobbed. "Please, just give me the chance!"
"But then you won't have money!" Jazelle whined, stomping her foot.
"Please!" He begged. "I'll do anything, please!"
Suddenly, she stopped, grinning. "Anything?"
"Anything," He repeated, crying.
Jazelle hummed curiously, leaning in. "Then… I suppose there is one thing."
Hope sparked in the man's eye. "What is it?"
…
"Die."
Jazelle pulled the trigger with the gun against his head, smoke bubbling the blood on the nozzle. Angelo turned away at the last second, hearing the body slump against the ground. His heart hurt as he realised, he didn't even know the man's name. Did he have children that he wanted to visit? It was all impossible now. Imagine a father that cared about his kids until his dying breath, and they would never know.
Before he could debate anything further, sirens began to sound.
"Shit," Jazelle cursed. "Old woman called the cops. Fire escape, go!"
Angelo nodded, dropping the cash in his hands as Jazelle shoved the body away and opened the window. Too far down for a regular jump due to the porch and house height combined, but there was a fire escape ladder. Jazelle started to climb out, and as Angelo made it to the window, the ladder snapped. He grabbed onto it to keep it from falling, and she made it to the bottom. She waved for him to follow, but before he could, the door opened.
He turned to see two cops at the door, pointing their guns at him. Their eyes surveyed the room, the damage, and then the body. Angelo didn't move – he was shocked by the fact they got here so fast. He glanced down to the ground below, at least six feet, and saw that Jazelle was gone. Had she left him?
"Hands up!" Someone shouted.
He slowly turned around, put his hands in the air. They came forward cautiously, but quickly, grabbing his wrists and forcing them behind his back. Cuffs ready, they bound his hands together, and he didn't react. Didn't speak, didn't scream, didn't groan in pain when they pinched him with the metal.
He was caught.