Dear Diary... Dear friend? Is that how you start a conversation, or rather monolog with yourself?  I’m new to this, and probably crappy as well. But I just need to write it all down.  I had this urge to write it all down for such a long time now, because so much crazy and intense stuff has happened, but I never got round to it. It was just way too much to take in. And I never found the peace and quiet.  But the New Year is here now and, well, New Year means new start, right? And just like other girls, I need to write down my feelings. So I guess I’m gonna tell it all to this invisible friend... or my older self, who knows...

 Anyway, it all started this autumn, well, wait, summer really, when I got the job at Mister N.’s club. That was when my life became exciting, for sure. And that was where my career started, really.  Sounds macabre in a way, I know, but hey, we all have to make a living right? And why not do what you are good at? Well, I’m merely quoting Mister N. here. 

Seriously, before the club, things were pretty awful. I never realised how shitty my life was before that. I really get that now. I was miserable! I mean, I was doomed to do what all the other people had to do; Work!  In pointless jobs!  Yeah, jobs and me seriously did not work out. From when I was around 20 years old  I was just working all over the place, like shops, restaurants, a few offices, call centres... trying to be a good employee, but hey I really wasn’t. I just couldn’t bring myself to show up every day and be a slave. Everything within me was screaming. I was angry, I was forcing myself to smile. It just wasn’t in my nature. I could not take orders, or hang around all day for, basically, next to zero cash. And the way those asshole managers treated me. I mean, they knew they were giving me a hard time. They just didn’t like me; it’s like they were jealous... or even scared of me.  I so hated those manager bitches. I just wanted to hit them in the face. Yeah maybe they sensed that, haha. They had this so called ‘authority’ over me and it really wasn’t right.  I mean, a neurotic little poodle does not tell a Doberman what to do right? It’s not natural. I knew I was too good for this shit. That nagging feeling when you know you are supposed to do something different, something better... and something much more important. I just didn’t know yet what that was . So every time,  I was usually let go after a few months, or sometimes I just left, simply didn’t go back there anymore... I didn’t even bother to call to say I wasn’t coming in anymore.  

And mum and dad, fuck they were complaining their asses off, like every time.  “What on earth did you do wrong this time, Ruthy Anne...??!”  Yes, that is my name unfortunately, now isn’t that plain ghastly, how can a mother call her daughter ’Ruthy Anne’? How could she do this to me? ‘Honour her grandmother Ruth’ she said. Really, the woman has no taste! But ok, that is a different story.  So mum and dad were always on my back; whining and complaining... like, how I now was twenty something years old, blah, blah,blah and still I have no proper education with a good career in sight. They just didn’t get it. Work places did not like my company. Not my fault, is it? “You have to be more of a team-player” mum said.  She kept saying that something must be wrong with my attitude or approach to my colleagues . Wtf! I got so angry, I couldn’t stand her anymore, or anyone really. I just wanted to punch someone! Literally, and it was such a life-safer that I was training at the local boxing club. I loved it there. And I could release all my build up frustration. So needed that.  Funny, how I didn’t quite see the connection then...

Anyway, enough of my ranting about bygone shit. I needed to get out of this place quickly, so at some point I signed on welfare... medical reasons I said, like depression, which kinda was true and shortly after, I moved to the main city. Nahah... I can’t tell you which one, naturally, let’s just call it the city with cute trams....  But soon after I got here, I was pushed into seeking casual jobs, again. Yet, nobody would have me, not even a stupid cleaning company. And thus, I was left jobless, penniless, all alone, miserable, on welfare, contained in a council bedsit, living by society’s norm of a low-life. Twenty five, was this my life??? No freakin’ way!!!

It wasn’t just the lack of money that drove me to desperation, oh no. I had firmly made up my mind to never work in an enslaving cattle job again. I knew I was better than that, or rather, “badder”. I needed to be free, make my own living.  I knew somewhere I was meant to shine.

It was a lovely, warm, sweet-smelling early summer’s day, which I would have enjoyed very much if only I had some cash to do something with.  When it hit me. Pretty, but outcast, girls like me, where do they work? Ah yes, of course! At the Eastern boulevard night clubs, right? So I started to walk down there, standing curiously about in front of neon-lit night clubs, porn shops, strip clubs  and cinemas, walking up and down the streets, constantly hit on by sleazy fat ole guys, which was really annoying. Yet, I couldn’t bring myself to go inside anywhere to ask for a job. I was too nervous. But the red lights fascinated me for sure. I knew I belonged in here somewhere.  Then one afternoon, when I sat in a cafe bar after yet another failed attempt to ask for a job, I met Cassandra for the first time. Cassandra is a busty, silver bleached blonde, who seriously looks like one of those blow-up dolls in the sex shops. And, damn, she had those cool tight black pants and stilettos I wanted so badly, but so could not afford to buy. She sat down by the bar and had a late lunch, her red lipstick all smeared around her chin but she didn’t seem to care. Confidence, right there.  Yeah, Cass was gorgeous that day, I loved her at once. I smiled at her. Luckily she smiled back and I started to chat with her for a bit. Turns out she works at that club down by the end of the road. A fancy, purple flashing place, which I had been looking at several times, because it kinda intrigued me. It was a strip club, but turned into this hip night club with DJs every Saturday night...  And she said that she could take me there to speak to the bar manager. Cass then said to me, ‘since I was so pretty, sexy and cool looking,  I no doubt would get hired at the spot!’ Wow. I got so excited! And then two days later, when she had a shift, I went down there to speak with this guy Rob, and, to cut a long story short; I got a job. Hostess slash dancer... well, you know. I was so happy!!!

I loved the job. And the job loved me! It was so thrilling being there. Turns out I’m really good at sexy dancing, and I’m totally awesome at entertaining customers, if you know what I mean. Turning on my charm... a real charm yes. No fake politeness and stupid smiles at whiny, frustrated grannies. And of course, I was damn good at taking care of myself if any guy didn’t behave. In fact, I was allowed to punch customers if they grabbed my ass and then have them kicked out of the club! Now how cool is that? Talk about customer service as it should be, right? Haha. And I got paid! Real good! The money was finally rolling in and really, money is everything. I was in paradise. Finally, I could go shopping without feeling terrified, without turning every penny, without feeling guilty for eating out, and I even could buy awesome clothes, do my nails at the salon, hey, I could dine at restaurants... I was alive again. Just seeing all that cash in my lap each night gave me a rush to my head. I just wanted to work more and more shifts. Finally it was all worth it.

But hey, ok, this is where it all starts really. Because it is here where I met Mister N. Now, Mister N.  owns the place, the whole building actually, plus the hidden casino in the back of the house. His office is at the top floor and occasionally, he would pop into the club, chatting with Rob about business, having a quick drink and so worth. Whenever I passed him by I gave him a cute smile. He was the boss after all. But after a few times, I stopped by his table and we had this jolly little chitchat. He asked me if I liked working at the club, and I told him I loved it. He soon came down more often just to say hello, and I talked to him after my shift, or even sat down with him for a drink.  I really liked him. Mister N. is funny and he looks just like this guy from TV, this Poirot character, seriously. A short guy, with a belly, moustache, always dressed  very classy. And he really enjoyed talking to me as well, he said, I made him laugh, I made him wonder... I was such a strange girl. He said that I was unusual, and that I had quite intriguing topics to talk about. I took his mind of things, he said. After a few of those entertaining chats we had, he started to invite me up to his office for coffee ... the top floor, yes,  where all his classified business deals took place and his shady looking boys walked in and out of. I mean, I’m not dumb, I realised pretty quickly that Mister N. was a descendent from a, let’s say, ‘traditional’ line of underworld. And it was exciting, for sure.  

I grew very fond of Mister N. and also started to like his errand runners, some of them which were seriously hot and handsome. Oh my gosh! The other girls in the club downstairs were simply sticking to their job of stripping and entertaining customers. That was it. They would never come up here. But I was totally fascinated by what was going on behind the closed curtains. A whole new and dangerous world opened up to me. And I realised I wanted to be part of that underworld, like, for real. I wasn’t just a pretty chic. I seriously could be tough enough to get in here. Hey, I’ve always been raw and angry enough after all, fierce enough.  And I said that to Mister N. He would smile when I talked about it, when I asked alluringly about the details to his trade. I confessed to him my dark and dirty fantasies, yeah he liked that. Stuff about guns, violence and dead bodies... I felt pretty confident that I could do some of the same tough jobs his gangster boys did for him. I told him I could kill someone, without a problem. I’m just like a feral cat, I would be a killer-cat, yes.  And I was dead serious, I said! He looked at me from behind his big, mahogany desk, amused.  Teasing me all the time ‘Ruthy, Ruthy, or should I say Ruthless... ay, you are ruthless!’  I loved it, such a compliment, something I intended to grow into. Ruthless. What an awesome name. Soo much better than Ruthy, for sure. Yeah, I was gonna become that... No more strange, out of place Ruthy, but cold-blooded Ruthless.  I told Mister N. I would change my name to Ruthless for real. He just laughed.

Yes, Mister N. is such a sophisticated man, and he loves good old culture. Begin of September he took me to the opera. I can’t say I enjoyed it very much, but I was pleased to be escorting Mister N. on a night out, wearing my brand new, gorgeous red satin dress that I had bought for the occasion. I surely felt special that night.

Not long after that, Mister N. agreed to let me run a few errands for him. No biggies, but obviously, I had to earn his trust first and the confidence that I could handle the nature of his business. I would be delivering parcels for him, pick up stuff with one of his cars, hand out messages to his guys, see to his special guests  back at the casino... and I was dedicated. After all it was good money I got. I mean, the stripping money was real good, but now we’re talking even better cash in hand. Soon I was allowed to stay in the room when the big guys had their business discussions. I was doing well here, like I said, I always knew I would be good at doing bad shit. I left an impression on everyone, I got respect and Mister N. said I might have quite a talent for this. Hell yeah!  I begged him to give me some real assignments. He was still amused by my unusual fierceness. He liked it as well. And then there was a close call shooting incident down at the club, which I might say; I handled really well. I do have fighter skills, basic instincts and really, potential for the big game. I was made for this! Mister N. was very pleased and he said he would help me develop my talents. Well that’s not the exact words he used, but: Yay! So exciting!

 I realised more and more that I had a natural born hunger. This instinct to kill, the adrenaline, the ability to survive danger...  damn why didn’t I ever think of that before? That’s why I never was one of the herd. I’m a predator at heart. Mister N. understood what I was. He then had this serious sit down with me at his office one stormy, grey autumn night, saying that what I wanted to do is not just a hobby or some short-lived adventure at all. He said this is not a thug life. He said thugs are those dumbasses that mess up everything on their highway to jail. If I’m going in with the big guys, I’m in all the way. One wrong step, and it’s over and out... and he wasn’t talking about the career, but my life. I paused a little and said ‘sure’. And he looked at me with his small glasses and said that I must be mad indeed... but the best people are.   

So by late october I stopped working at the club downstairs altogether, which was a little sad, but hey, I moved up, quite literally, up into the top building, working for Mister N.’s office. Oh, and I moved to the good side of town as well, with gorgeous jugendstil buildings, lovely streets, parks and alleys and now I have this cute, stylish two bedroom apartment with big windows on the fourth floor.  With each assignment, even though still pretty harmless stuff, I got paid and it would only get better if I would be able to do what I really wanted.

I still would see the girls of course, I was often downstairs in the club to say hello . None of them had any idea what really was going on in the office, and I said I was Mister N.’s office assistant, answering phone calls and stuff, which they happily believed. Except Cassandra, she basically has a foot in the backdoor as well, hanging out with the boys upstairs, working back at the casino, and she has good contact with Mister N. Obviously Cass has quite a regular taste for the white candy herself, which she distributes amongst her own personal clients. Bad bitch...  

I now was put into, well, ‘training’ with Jamie and little Paul. This was so exhilarating, seriously!  Jamie, now he is one of Mister N.’s best guys, he’s the head of security and personal bodyguard. He is seriously hot and fit, I so fancy him.  A blonde dude, looking like one of those actors so popular these days, with surfer tan, great arms and abs to die for! He is damn serious about his shit, he knows what he is doing, and still he is so charming, funny and polite. A good businessman he is as well, just like Mister N. said; this is no thug life, high crime has class. Jamie is co-owner of a MMA fighter club near by the warehouses where he trains up his guys at the quiet hours of the night in a special basement room. And, as far as I know, he also funds this illegal cage fighting network, which is pretty awesome. So now I was training hard, seriously I thought I could box and defend myself, but what I learn here, oh boy! That was so hard in the beginning, I felt sick to my stomach. But it needed to be done,  even though I  really wonder: some of the guys working for the big men have serious beer bellies and sweaty, unfit bodies...ugh. How come they don’t need to do any fitness training, duh, but anyway, I got to trust Mister N. ‘s plan and I really should not complain. I’m in the best company and really want to be here.

 I also received a lot of intense lessons from little Paul, he’s such a cute, short Italian guy, quite skinny, but hell he is good. He is a wizard with the knife, an excellent get- away driver and a hell of a good sniper from a long distance I’m told. I thought you could just take a gun and shoot it, but there is much more to it. Weapon training really would be my thing. It was shooting that I really wanted to do. We would shoot every weekend at this old factory in the countryside where no one would hear the noise. That feeling of power when you shoot a gun is just wow! Awesome. I become more confident and powerful by the day.

During that time I was also dragged along to quite a few dirty street jobs, like meetings in dark alleys and the occasional visit to unfortunate loosers who could not pay back their debt to Mister N., even though those jobs were generally ‘taken care of’ by the mean bully boys, lead by this really big, brute, bold, tattoed torpedo from Poland called Roamer. Yeah, I came along to a few meetings by the docks and witnessed him in action. Crazy motherfucker...!  I was shocked by the brutality, but “I needed to become street smart”, Jamie said. Some of the things that I saw, huff, not pretty, but hey some of those punters, they deserve it. I mean, how can you be so stupid and loan big cash from gangsters and then be too stupid to pay it all back..?! Those guys are just pathetic with a big P. To be honest I felt no sympathy for them and well, I almost enjoyed kicking them in the gut. The guys and me always went for drinks afterwards and we had a real good laugh. I know it’s mean, but hey...

Whenever we had to make a ‘house call’ or do a smash down job, little Paul took his ‘nosefill’ to clear his head before stepping out of the car and he offered me several times to join him. Jamie said that really wasn’t necessary. He didn’t like drugs on the job. He said to do what we do, you have to be calculated, smart and clear in the head... or either you’re just a little psycho. Paul, clearly, was a little psycho, Jamie stated convincingly. Paul waved it off and said he was a cute little psycho at least, and he made me agree. I seriously was trained for the job. How awesome, though this job description would never be mentioned at any employment office. Slowly but surely, I learned all about the need to have different cell phones, even different laptops for all the jobs, code names, how to smell out undercover cops... boy, organised crime really is organised! Exhausting.

On the other hand, a lot of times, we just have dead time and we’re just hanging out, like at Jamie’s gym, at the cafe, or at the office, or, at Jamie’s house. I love that. It’s so much freedom. And yet, we’re at the job 24/7. Mister N. would call if he needed something done. Jamie and Paul actually spend a good amount of time watching movies, and they are really into those stupid, cheesy, romantic comedies, like seriously,  I tried to suggest a REAL film and Jamie said he doesn’t like to watch action films, drama or horror because he finds them too distressing  and upsetting... Ehm? Say what? I mean really, how ironic is that? But, yes, Jamie is a sensitive guy, aww, how cute is that? He doesn’t live too far from my new place.  Anyway, I really have fun, I like hanging out with the guys like that. I feel so lucky.  

And then came that fatal day, really not that long ago; It was already chilly outside. Dark and wet were the afternoons, sharp and crispy the air, cold but wonderful. So atmospheric, winter was here for sure. Me and Jamie were out driving, and we had just picked up a couple of Mister N.’s suits from the dry cleaners - well yes, we have to do that too sometimes... but anyway,  we had just stopped by Starbucks to get those yummy seasonal spiced lattes. I was standing in the queue when Jamie got a phone call. His face turned very serious and then he told me to hurry because we had to leave at once. So I hastily grabbed the coffee and my bagel so that I could eat it in the car and we drove across town, down to the containers by the docks. It was dark and deserted there, really spooky, and I got a bad feeling at once. Down by the water there was a car parked in the shadows, and I saw the shape of a guy standing next to it. As soon as we came close, the guy was waving his arms around, shouting and screaming, acting really pissed off about something. I had no idea what the problem was, and I didn’t get the chance to ask Jamie either, because as soon as he parked next to him, Jamie ordered me quietly to ‘stay in the car’ and he jumped out to talk to the dude. A second later, bam! Jamie just shot the angry guy in the head. Whoa, the dude didn’t see that one coming. Like a big sack of potatoes he fell hard to the wet, concrete ground.

Then there was immediate silence, all we could hear were the faint sounds of the horns from the boats and the trains that echoed in the distance. I was perplexed, I was totally stunned. Jamie called out to me, to come over and help him. I stepped out of the car, like in slow motion. There the guy was lying dead in front of me, my first dead guy.  Wow. I did not react, in fact I did not feel anything, no anxiety, no shock, no disgust, nothing. I thought that was so weird. So I helped Jamie to carry the body into the trunk of the guy’s car. I was a bit clumsy because my high heels made me lose my balance and I didn’t wear any jacket and it was really freezing cold out here by the waters. I never got a look at the guy’s face. I didn’t want to either. Then Jamie slammed shut the trunk door and got into that car. Told me to drive his own car back to my place and park it there. He said he would come by later to pick it up. And just like that, he took off in the guy’s Volkswagen.  Speedily I jumped into the driver’s seat of Jamie’s BMW, locked the doors and made a quick exit as well. I really did not want to hang out here alone for another second. But boy, my mind was racing now, my hands were shaking at the wheel and I really tried to remain calm. As I drove through the city and its neon-lights, it really hit me; I now officially am a really bad girl. A criminal. This is for real. My head was spinning and yet, I felt nothing.

I parked the car in my street just as Jamie had told me to, went upstairs to my flat and waited for him to call. God I waited painfully long, I just sat there on my little balcony, having one cigarette after another. I was so nervous. Around 10 pm Jamie finally sent me a message saying I should come down with the car key. I rushed down the stairs to meet him in the streets and he told me in his calm manner that he had sorted out everything. Before I could ask a 1000 questions like ‘what the hell happened there and’... he said quietly, ‘this is how we do things Ruthy; order, target, done. We never ask why and we don’t talk about it’. God, he was so sexy when he said that. I just stood there in the cold night, shaking and breathing smoke. He got into his car and then rolled down the window. He asked, ‘so are you doing alright Ruthy?’ I leaned into the window, looked at him as nonchalant as I could and just said ‘Hey, it’s Ruthless’. And I turned to go back upstairs, smiling inside.

Now I really was restless. I went down to the store to get some food, but I really wasn’t in the mood for making any dinner. I was in the mood for something else. So I went out.  The air smelled so sweet that night, even though it was freezing. I just started walking towards town and then went into the nearest night-club to dance my head off, drinking a few pricy cocktails and then I took a random dude into the bathroom with me for a quick, sleazy fuck. I did think of Jamie the whole time though, but hey, it was still real good. I felt like I was on top of the world.  I so badly wanted to tell people ’hey, I’m a real tough chic, hey I am a gangster, hey I’m a killer in training, and we just shot a guy today... ‘ but I knew I couldn’t.  My secret life was here for sure. I went home around four in the morning, drunk and high on power. I promised myself to take life easy from now on, to see the great irony, to be a real freakin’ crazy chic and not fear death. Life could be over in an instant. I witnessed that today.  Did I feel bad, or even guilty about the dead guy??? Nope. I’m sure Mister N. had his reasons. And Jamie or me, we are just the tools.

Next morning I got a message from Mister N. asking how I was doing. Aww, that was so sweet of him! I texted back ‘I feel great!’...  smiley face. He just replied ‘Ruthless!!!’

So anyway, this is more or less what happened so far. Mister N. gave me my career. He saw me, the real me. So all the stupid jobs I had and all those  that turned me down, well, maybe they smelled it out too, the real me. No matter how I disguised it. Because people like me, that are outcasts, they are often the raw, street-smart individuals, those that can survive in the jungle. They are the true top dogs. The work managers and shitty bosses I had, they are kinda the omegas of the flock really, that is why they are so passive- aggressive up there in their unnatural power positions, right? I mean, look at politicians. So thank you all yer stupid jobs! Oh and hey, Jane from Intershoes; I slept with your husband at the Christmas office party that time. God I so wish I could tell her that...  Maybe I should pay that envious bitch a visit, show her who I really am. Freak her out a little. 

So it’s the end of the year now. I’m home for Christmas, staying at mum’s and dad’s house, really bored, this is why I have the time now to put it all down to paper. They have nooo idea of course what I’ve been up to lately. If only they knew what has become of their daughter. Well, let’s hope they never find out. I told them I got a job in an office, hiring out limousines. No idea how I came up with that one. They were impressed that I finally got my life in order... that I have money and could buy them nice presents.  I just bought brand new cute dresses and boots as well, which I have to talk more about, got this cool new hair cut, with a little silver colour at the ends. And finally I have gorgeous nails.  Love that bright red nail varnish. God, it feels so good to have money. With dread I think back to the days when I just had nothing; no money, no opportunities. I can’t wait to start the New Year. Doing what I am born to do.

I am Ruthless, and I’m on my way to be a contract killer. (I got to learn to rock that attitude...)

(c) I Am Ruthless! - from Ruthless' diary. 

5th Jan:
 It’s the 5th already and I am back home. I left mum’s and dad’s place on the 3rd and it’s so good to be back in my cool and cosy flat. I love it here. Been living here since end of September when I finally could afford such an awesome place instead of the shitty little council bedsit I had to stay at before. It’s not big, but real cosy, with a living room to the right, and a bedroom to the right as well and then down the hall, a little bathroom and the kitchen to the left.  It’s in fairly good standard and most of all, on the right side of town... the posh side, yes. A real home, all to myself!  I just opened the balcony door in the kitchen to get in some fresh air. I love the view out into the backyard. Seeing all the other windows and balconies. You can see the little university park in the distance as well.  It’s raining outside -  damp, cold, a little misty... pretty miserable as one can expect it to be around this time of year. But I like it.  I’m sitting here at my little kitchen table having some cocoa with cream, hmm, perfect for a slow Sunday morning. I’m waiting for Jamie to pick me up and I am so excited to see him. I really wonder what he did during Christmas, if he had family somewhere and what kind of cover story he has for them, if any. Not sure if I should ask him such a private thing... maybe not yet. I surely thought about him a lot while I was home. This is the first training session of the year and I better make a good impression. A little nervous, Jamie said that I will be introduced to a very important person this week. Hmm, I’m so intrigued. So he just texted me saying that he would be here in an hour. So until then, I’m just gonna chill and enjoy the misty morning. 

(c) I am Ruthless

10. January 

It’s friday night and I deserve a party night out. Gonna meet Cassandra for a drink at one of our favourite bars. I bought this cute, black dress from Zara’s earlier this week, and I can’t wait to show myself around in it. I already told Cassandra that we have to step by the club and office tonight before we go out, just to check in with Mister N. and chat a bit. Of course I just hope that Jamie will be there and see me in my gorgeous dress. Yeah, it was so nice to see him again. Even though he seemed pretty distracted and preoccupied with his cage business and other stuff. But I did have a couple of days with serious training. Got some painful blows to my shoulder, but it’s going good. Had a good time with little Paul as well. He’s always so funny. I actually was assisting him on a job. A quick hit and run. Well, I didn’t really do anything except sit in the passenger seat holding his coffee as he drove off like a maniac. No idea what or who he was aiming at. But I was present, for sure. Little Paul is such a good driver. As usual he offered me a little nose candy afterwards as we safely stood parked in the car park below the city centre and this time, I had a little, yes. Hey, after all, Jamie was not around. We had a really good afternoon... So I guess I kinda witnessed my second death, but I didn’t want to ask Paul. I felt nothing, except the relief for not getting caught. And this is pretty amazing. 

Anyway, I was introduced to a very important guy this week. The one Jamie talked about. He’s simply called ‘the Gardener’.  For obvious reasons. The Gardener, I assume, is digging holes... in his garden. We all know what that means, right? I’m not really sure how it works. All I learned is that after a mission, and every hit we do, we are supposed to ring the Gardener immediately after and he will take care of things. Make everything disappear, erase all traces leading to us and most of all, to Mister N. Apparently he never made a mistake.  So Jamie and me drove out to his farm house, which was just half an hour out of town. Indeed he has a large, overgrown garden right by the woods. I do wonder how many bodies might be buried out there. We drove up to the house and the door opened and there this thin, middle-aged man with a bony, but very interesting face, waved to us and  invited us in. Of course I recognized him, as I had seen him before.  I saw him once coming out of Mister N.’s office. I then had no idea that this slim, silver- haired man in a grey suit indeed was such an important figure.  He is very discreet for sure.  Anyway, we went into the living room, which was very rural an old-fashioned furnished, and he made us some tea with rum. Yum.  Classical music was running in the background, of course, another gentleman with taste.

 The Gardener was a very pleasant man to talk to actually. He’s very calm and collected. I like him. I was introduced to him as the new member of Mister N.‘s team.  Aww, that made me so happy. He seemed positively pleased to have a girl in the gang to do business with. He asked Jamie if I had been trained and was ready for business and Jamie said, absolutely. God, I was so proud!! This is such important shit, really, sometimes I don’t really grasp how big this is. What my life has become. What a big part I played now. There is no turning back now, for sure. I’m all in.

So the Gardener talked to me a little and explained to me what exactly his job is and how I am supposed to always follow strict instructions, nothing more and nothing less. I got a special cell phone with his number on speed dial. And then he said ‘we will talk soon’. I was relieved that I understood my part. Not too sure about some of the stuff he said.... I think he has chemicals, like acid, and then he mixes it with base afterwards to neutralize it, thus having water that he can use for the garden. So you basically could drink it, even though I really wouldn’t want to drink water containing dissolved death.  I don’t think the neighbours would be too pleased either if they knew, hehe. But anyway, the Gardener is very environmental friendly, which is really nice. He seriously is a fascinating guy. The quiet ones are always the most interesting, aren’t they?

 Jamie and me drove back to town and had a pizza at a restaurant. I really enjoyed our afternoon trip, having him all to myself. Finally I could ask a little bit about his holidays and yeah, he said, he had a nice Christmas at his parents place, hehe.  Weird to think he has a normal family to go home to, but then, we all live but a shadow life here.

Well, I better get ready to go out.

P.S. – same night...  Jamie was not there!!! Damn! I’m frustrated, hmm. But we had a good night out anyway.  Cass got so drunk I had to carry her into the taxi, hehe. Well, I’m tired... gonna take tomorrow off.

(c) I am Ruthless

17. January

The sun came out today, nice, even though it’s real damn chilly outside. Right now I’m sitting at a café with this yummy cinnamon latte. It’s noon, and I’m sitting here, just writing in my notebook. It feels weird sometimes, there’s people around me, sitting, walking by, some are smiling at me... and none of them has any idea what I am doing. They assume I am just a normal girl, like them. And then sometimes I am sitting somewhere at a café or eating place and one of the guys walks in, like Jamie or Paul, or Mirko the French driver, and we all have coffee, and well, nobody suspects anything weird. We blend in. And definitely, we blend in much better than some of those biker dudes we sometimes do dealings with. I mean, hello? They definitely look shady, but still, they also just go out for a normal cup of coffee just like everyone else. Actually, I see them quite often hanging at my favourite, cosy coffee house by the park.

 This dude came by our factory room the other day. On his motor bike, having bad guy, or at least, wannabe bad guy, hehe, written all over him. He just didn’t give a shit, and Roamer, our street leader, got pissed off with him because he drew unnecessary attention to us. The biker’s name was Hale, he’s a trained and good looking dude for sure. Long blond hair and a messy beard, tattoos up to his neck, a little trashy, but absolutely sexy. I would do him for sure, but hey, I never said that, of course. Anyway, he came round to the room looking to buy a gun. All the nasty little deeds that Roamer and the guys are dealing with are done in the factory room, far away from Mister N. and his offices. Quite obviously. I will talk more about that place another time. I really don’t like being there. It gives me the creeps  and I try not to hang there unless I get ordered to. But yeah, that Hale dude was pretty cool, and he looked over to me a few times while I was sitting in the sofa. I hope he realised that I am part of the team, and not just someone’s girlfriend hanging out.

Oh and what else is new? I found a new cool bar downtown, with this really hot bartender, this typical hipster dude with tattoos and a big beard, a seriously awesome guy. So I think I might stop by there later for a drink and sit by the bar. But now I better go, I need to grab a sandwich before I’m gonna walk to the office and check in with Mister N.  

(c) I am Ruthless

29. January

Whoa, talk about coincidence. I just had to write this down. So this biker dude Hale was at the gym today. I had just arrived and changed into my fitness gear, ready to do some boxing, when I passed by the toilets and there by the door stood this Hale dude, with his long hair tucked back into a pony tail. Wow, I didn’t expect that. So I passed by as nonchalant as I could and just gave him a quick smile before walking on. I didn’t know that he was training here too. Now I tried to focus really hard and tried even harder to have a tough work-out, but I was so distracted, which was really annoying. So a bit later I walked around, looking for Jamie and I found him in his little basement office. As we stood there chatting a bit, this Hale dude actually walked by, greeting Jamie. Jamie said “hey, what’s up?”... and then when the guy was looking at me, Jamie said: “Ah this is Ruthless”... hah, awesome. Well done Jamie! Hale looked at me with a smile and winked: “Oh, are you Ruthless?”... I said all cool with a smirk, “yes, that’s my name.” And he replied : “well I better watch out then..” Haha, he’s so cute. So, he already saw me at the factory room with Roamer and the guys, and now he knows my name, which in fact is ‘Ruthless’, so he definitely knew now for sure that I was not just some bimbo girl hanging around, but that I am working in the business. Brilliant. And it was really awesome that he was standing here now with me and Jamie, winking at me. I really hope Jamie got a little jealous at that. He didn’t say anything though.

Oh, I also really flirtet with this Alex dude at the bar I mentioned. I really fancy him, and I like talking to him. Had this hot dream about him as well... it was so weird, but so very sexy. I will go back there again next week.

(c) I am Ruthless

13. Feb.

I had to play “prison guard” the entire week. Not really my job, but I was thrown into it and I can’t say it was my thing really. But hey, I am part of the gang, and sometimes I have to do the dirty job together with the gang. Of course Jamie wasn’t there at all, oh no, he’s way too important for that kind of primitive shit.

So what happened? Well, as usual, I didn’t really get the details. Just follow instructions and don’t ask questions. Mister N. just called me last Monday morning and told me to visit the guys at the factory room and help them out with taking breaks, delivering take-out food, drive around doing errands for them and stuff.  Fair enough, but god, I so hate the factory room! Ok, let me explain. The factory room is down by the docks. An empty, old warehouse building used for different shady purposes, yes amongst those hostages up on the top floor... including a few tortures and kill offs.  A fucking creepy place, I hate it, especially at night... I’m sure the corridors are haunted. So was I really the right person for a guarding position? I don’t think so. I’m too afraid of ghosts! I’m sure the other guys are creeped out too. If they were honest.

So anyway, we had to watch this guy, and make sure he kept in place. The guy was an informer for another boss who indeed had become a threat to Mister N. and thus, to all of us. So the guy was sitting on vital info, and Roamer tried to hammer it out of him, but the guy would not sing, not even at gun point. No matter what Roamer said or did to him and seriously, crazy Roamer tried everything.

So Roamer got desperate, and hungry, which always makes him very cranky. They tied the guy to this chair in the middle of the room... Roamer and his good helpers, Kalle and Mika poured water on him, first ice cold, then hot. The guy was screaming, turning all red on his skin and then he was pissing down the chair, but still he wouldn’t talk. The smell got to me, it was nasty and I almost ran out of there. I mean this was just wrong! I’m not a bad person and torture is not my cup of tea.

Roamer was just about to cut the dudes tongue but Joel reminded him that he then really could not talk. They decided to get the car battery and give him those electro shocks on his chest. Guy was crying, then shitting his pants, and I felt really bad for him. This was horrible and yet, I couldn’t say anything. Damn why didn’t he just talk?? Hell, I would! Just say something, just make up some shit that wasn’t true. I mean, what a way to go. This kind of situation is really not like it is presented to us on film, where some hero is always tied up or locked up for a long time, but still looking fairly clean and has not been to the toilet at all. This really is not the case in reality. In reality, the victims pee and shit their pants very quickly. It’s not like they scream and then go “oh hey I need to go to the bathroom” and the tormentors go “oh sure, down the hall to the right, but hurry back to the chair”.  No, it’s not like that.

The guy stayed in that chair for two more days, so yes, one night the boys all went home to go and get some sleep and I was called in to do some night watch. Me alone, watching that poor dude moaning on that chair, sitting in his own dirt, gross. Well Joel was supposed to stay with me but then he said that he had to go home to feed his cat, and then he never came back, which was so not cool.  God, the next hours were dreadful. And I was so freaked out and scared by the place, I did not go to the bathroom down the hall the entire night. I just sat there all stressed out by the table, with my large magnum, ready for any possible attacker, human or ghost. My heart was pounding. I was thinking about calling Jamie or little Paul and asking them to come over because I really cannot do this, but really, I simply could not show them that I am such a little sissy. Maybe this even was a test, I don’t know. The lads came back at 5 in the morning and thanked me for sitting guard for them, aww, that was nice. So glad when that night, and with it, my ‘shift’ was over. I really hope that I don’t have to do that kind of work again.

Anyway, the guy is fine. His boss cut a deal with Mister N. and he then was released from his torture  chair. Young Kalle put him in his van, and dropped off his beaten, shit-stained body outside the hospital last night. The guy never talked. Impressive. I really don’t wanna know who had to clean up that mess in the room. Luckily it’s so not my problem . 

(c) I am Ruthless 

22. Feb

Really cold outside today, chilly, frosty, windy and totally unpleasant. Had a relaxing day treat for myself anyway. Went to my favourite Spa massage at the Grand hotel, then went shopping and even had some time left to have my nails re-done, before I’m going to go to Alex’s bar again. I know he will be at work this evening. I did some sleazy investigating, haha. Funny though, down by the shopping centre, I walked past this book stand and those grey, washed out, New Agey women behind the stand called out to me to have a look. I stopped, looking at a few books, though I never read books... I mean most of them are written by someone with views I don’t like, so they just end up annoying me. But one was called “Women who run with Wolves”.  Good title, surely lousy concept. One of those women started to talk to me about this “women who run with wolves” shit... and I had to smile. Is she like trying to teach me something?  Like, who do they think they are kidding, right, haha? Come on! Being so out of shape and overweight as these ones here, they seriously could not even run with dogs, least of all any wolves. Such flaky women are just as domesticated and boring as everyone else. They are not feral.  And seriously, no way they could fight. Doubt they have any kind of predator spirit. Anyway I quickly moved on to get a smoothie at the smoothie bar café. Having my favourite, ‘Broc Choc’.

But I’m reminded of Mister N. when he said a little while ago as we were out dining: “You know, there are three types of women; there’s dogs, there’s bitches and there’s wolves... The dogs roll over, the bitches – well, they are bitches, and the wolves -  these girls are pure and wilful... powerful, unpredictable... yes, just like you, Ruthy!” God I love Mister N. and his inspiring words... Hmm, I wonder if he likes cats...

(c) I am Ruthless

1. March

Ok. Well, I had my first hit. Alone and totally unexpected. It was a spontaneous thing really. A possible witness, who needed to be silenced, on the day.  Mister N. said that guy would never expect a girl to come to his door to take him out, so he wouldn’t be alarmed. Suddenly, my moment had come. Perhaps too soon, but this is what I signed up for after all. I wasn’t nervous about killing a person. I was afraid about messing up and getting caught. I was really afraid. Little Paul picked me up at 4 this morning. Way too early, but I was wide awake, obviously. I was told to wear a skirt and pumps to look like an ordinary woman. I also wore a short blond wig, just in case. And a hoody of course - what a peculiar working outfit. Anyway we drove far out of the city to the target’s bungalow. Paul parked across the street and according to our infos, the guy was alone and would leave the house around 6 am. He gave me a quick rundown of everything that he taught me about close ups before sending me out. 

Just before 6 am I walked over and into the garden, acting as casual as I could, waiting in the bushes there. The fat ole guy didn’t come out before halv past six and I was shaking from the cold and anxiety, really, but finally he opened the door and looked nervously around. You always have to be a 100 percent sure that it is the right person and that he is alone. I walked right up to him with a sweet “excuse me sir...”  and as he turned around to look at me I shot him twice in the chest. And once again to make sure I didn’t miss.  No sound. Not from me, not from him and definitely not from my pistol, as I have this really cool new silencer. He fell backwards back into the hall. And quickly I walked back to the car with my hoody drawn into my face. Paul drove off quietly yet swiftly and as we went around the corner I changed outfits. Paul gave me the phone to call the Gardener and like arranged, I just said “It’s done!” Gardener replied politely “Ah yes, very good. Take care”. And that was it. Yeah, and then I started panicking. “Paul, Paul, what if I messed up, what if we get caught???” But Paul was totally relaxed and said “hey calm down, you did fine. Well done Ruthless”. I didn’t for a second think about the target. All that mattered was that I didn’t mess it up. For myself or everyone. But Paul assured me that Mister N. and the Gardener would take care of everything.  Finally I was breathing in and breathing out. And then we went for breakfast. Paul ordered a brandy for me.

I relaxed a little bit and then it sank in. I did it. Wow! I knew I could do it! I couldn’t wait to see Jamie. I promised myself I would be totally cool and careless when I saw him. We drove back into town and I asked Paul to drop me off at Jamie’s. It still was early in the morning, so he would be home. He opened the door and wasn’t even dressed yet, mumbling something like ‘it’s a bit early for a visit’ but then he seemed to remember and asked eagerly “oh right, yes, how did it go??” I said “fine”... but then I couldn’t hold back my paranoia and bubbled on about getting caught... I mean, I finally pulled a trigger on someone... Jamie was so understanding, he even gave me a hug and wasn’t wearing a shirt yet, for a second I got so turned on. He fixed me a drink with whiskey and coffee, and said that if I always follow instructions, I can’t go wrong. Don’t think about it. Then he had a shower... while I was sitting in the living room, fantasizing. He drove me home because he had to do something, he said. I tried to sleep a bit. Late in the afternoon I went down to the office to see Mister N. I looked at him with expectation and said “well? All good?” He smiled “ah Ruthless” and he gave me an envelope. Then he went to make us coffee. So I quickly opened the envelope and OMG, there was a lot of cash! I blushed right there. Mister N. came back into the room and then he actually shook my hand and said “welcome to the business Ruthless”. This alone was worth everything.

The feeling of being above the law is just amazing. So as I’m sitting here now this evening in my living room, watching TV and eating good food, I’m waiting to feel some bad emotion, some form of regret or even guilt for what I did. I am officially a killer, I’m really am now a paid hit-woman. But I continue to feel nothing. Like I said, those people are doomed to die anyway. I’m just the tool. 

(c) - I am Ruthless

11. March

Well nothing exciting has happened really recently. It’s been quiet, Mister N. is on holiday in Malta and sadly he didn’t bring us along on the trip. So a lot of time we spent training and then relaxing at Jamie’s place, watching stupid daytime television and drinking whiskey sour.  Jesus, there is so much shit on TV during the day, it’s unbelievable! Pure toxic for the soul... It’s all about reality shows where morons, trash and bimbos make a fool out of themselves, just to make a daytime looser on welfare feel better about himself, or herself. Seriously, what is the point?

 Jamie, little Paul and me had this big discussion about why on earth people would want to watch ill-behaved humans that basically have no life and seriously don’t do anything of interest. Why do people want to watch non- life on TV, instead of going out to live a cool, real life themselves? And the more embarrassing and trash-talking a person appears on TV, the more famous they get on social media. It seems like a twisted reality, right? On the other hand, individuals from the underworld, with truly daring and exciting lives, they are not on social media, obviously. They are too busy living a thrilling life. Can you imagine Mister N. being on social media? Haha, no way!  

So Jamie and Paul were joking about how funny it would be like to have little Paul on one of those reality shows, and on the screen it would say “Paul – hitman and gangster”, haha, or even better we should sign up Roamer for a reality show, “Roamer – torpedo and drugdealer”... yeah THAT would be a show worth seeing. No, people like us don’t have online profiles leading to our person. And if, it would be a cover identity with boring updates just to blend in with everyone else, so that our relatives don’t get suspicious. But diary writing, well, that is personal of course. It’s a secret.  Hey, I do often wonder when I write this down if Jamie, Paul or even Mister N. write a journal with their everyday activities. Who knows, probably not, but it would be real cute if they did. I wonder what they would write about. Maybe something about me?

So, the only job I had the past week was on Friday, when I drove a suitcase filled with party pills to a client and collected the money. No biggy, but I don’t like those drug related jobs, they stress me out. 

(c) I am Ruthless

24^th  March

Been sent around town with Roamer on a few more delivery jobs. And one of them actually got ugly. We met this young ‘rich kid’ on Tuesday night down in the west-side parking lot and when the dude nervously looked around himself a few times, we realised he was not alone. The bully that he is, Roamer quickly pulled his gun, grabbed the kid and put the gun to his head. Before I could grab mine, two motherfucking big dudes with sunglasses jumped from out of a dark Mercedes that was standing in the row behind us and pointed guns at us, screaming chaotically. No idea how they could see with those dark glasses down here, but anyway, I got fucking scared. I didn’t know what to do, but my instincts told me to play cool. So I put my hands in the air and said with a sarcastic tone: Whoa, whoa guys! Now you wouldn’t just shoot down a girl in cold blood now, would you? It actually worked. The guys calmed down for a sec and we could negotiate to sort our little problem here. 

Turned out those two heavy loaders were the life guards of the rich kid, who of course was too chicken to meet us alone. Can’t blame him really. After Roamer was done shouting and insulting everyone, he put the gun down and the rich boy got his high class coke. We got the cash bag and all three of them drove off quickly in that fancy, dark blue Benz.  Finally I could breathe out, but goaad, was I shaking. Roamer could have had us killed, but oh no, he doesn’t have the sense to even consider that. He was complaining and swearing all the way back to the factory room. But then again, in our business, you can get killed in an instant anyway. I really understood that now. This is the risk, and this is what Mister N. warned me about in the beginning.

I had to take the bus home that night, and I drank a whole bottle of wine. I really don’t like dealing with Roamer, even though he congratulated me on my first hit and gave me a really expensive bottle of whiskey. I don’t like all those petty, brutal gangster jobs. I’m itching in my fingers and I want to kill someone, yes literally.  I don’t want messy jobs. I’m supposed to be a cat on the hunt, not a rude, barking bull terrier like Roamer.

What... and now this, for real??? Just now I got a message from Mister N. Asking me to jump into a taxi and pick up his wife’s dry cleaning on the way to the office. Gee, that is not my job?! Shouldn’t a maid be doing that for him? Come on? Fair enough, I am Mister N.’s all-round assistant after all, guess I shouldn’t complain and just do anything he asks me too.  Jamie told me this morning that there is going to be a hit soon out of town and one, or even two of us, will be going to do it. Oh, please, let this be me and Jamie....  Jamie and me on a trip together, oh wow, there definitely would be romance in the air for us. A girl can dream, can she??! Well, I better get going to the dry cleaners...  

^26th March

Sunday morning and I’m aiming for a nice relaxing day, yes. The sun is out even. Maybe I will go out for a little Sunday walk through the park and stop by the market to buy some fruit and veggies. Last night I went out with this girl Susan, a high energy girl with long pink hair who I met in the sauna of the gym. A girl with the largest pair of silicone boobs I’ve ever seen. I really don’t get how she can manage to find clothes to fit her frame. They surely must be custom made, right? It’s like two balloons sticking out from her stretched out tops and you just want to pop them with a needle. Anyway we went to a few clubs, and then met up with a few girlfriends of hers and eventually I got bored and left. Decided to stop by Alex’s bar to see if he was working. 

He was there for sure, but the bar was packed and we couldn’t talk. I was constantly hit on by drunken assholes while I was sitting alone by the bar, waiting for every chance to talk to Alex, and I started to get really irritated. I was so close to hitting someone, like, punch them in the face. I had some tequila, and some more. And at some point I leant forward to Alex and said: “You know what? I almost got killed a few days ago!” He just looked at me, like with no expression really and said “oh?”... Yeah, he probably thought I meant it in this casual way people talk like, when they say “oh, I almost got hit by a buss, or yeah  I slipped and fell down a ladder... “ or something like that. But I said “yeah I almost got shot, it was a deal gone bad, you know...” He looked at me and raised his eyebrows and said:  “Huh, what? How the hell did you get mixed up in that??” And I said, “well, my job you know....!”

Ok, though the haze of tequila, I realised how stupid that was. Luckily he didn’t really get that and thought I was merely joking . Kind of amazing really, how you can be really honest with people and they actually don’t believe it. But of course, I should have never said that. And with it I realised how hard it will be from now on to actually make friends and have relationships with ordinary people. How I have to lie, fake it and be alert all the time, not to confuse my made up stories, to always hide the truth and keep my secrets safe from them. And now I realise how isolated I will be from now on. Basically I can only hang out with gangsters. Well, I never connected with the ordinary people anyway, so I don’t mind. But Alex I really want, so I guess I have to try and be smart about what I say to him.

Anyway, back to the nice, sunny day today. I’m ready to go out for a walk. Ok, to be honest, I feel kinda depressed today, perhaps a bit lonely. But don’t we all feel alone, really? Hmm, maybe I should get myself a dog, or a cat...?!

1.April

It’s Saturday evening and I’m so tired. I did something bold last night, yes. After training with Jamie and Paul I decided to simply walk into Alex’s bar and ask him out. I said to him: “Hey, I had a frustrating day and I need some fun. When are you done here?” And he replied a little shy: “Ehm... 9pm, well, now actually... why?” and I said: “Awesome. Let’s go and have a drink at my place!” And yes, he said ‘yeah ok’!!! Wow, suddenly I got so nervous. Ok, the thing is, I really wanted Alex for sure, but the trigger for my sudden date wish was Jamie. 

At training he looked so hot, and he was such a charmer with his cheeky smile and flirty comments, that it painfully turned me on. I so fancy him. I so wanted to fuck him, right there. I got so frustrated. I even got distracted with my boxing and made some seriously bad fighting moves, and I took several nasty blows to my thighs. The spot turned black and blue at once. Outch. But I bit my tongue and played it cool. Then suddenly the guys talked about girls and Jamie commented something about some blonde chick he was doing not that long ago, and what awesome great tits she had...  and whooa! I got really jealous listening to that! I got mad to be honest, and really wanted to slap him. Arrgg. Why is he going out with some blonde chic when I am around, huh?

So I was in a really horny mood... and frustrated, and then I just thought ‘fuck it’, like literally... ‘I will ask Alex out and see what happens’. I’m almost surprised he agreed so quickly. Alex came out of the bar, wearing his black leather jacket over his white top and he looked so good it made me even more nervous. He brought a bottle of rum with him from work and then we took a taxi home to me. We had good laughs, and a lot of rum while we were sitting by my cute little kitchen table. Then we played some good deephouse music in the living room. He told me he was Dj’ing sometimes at a bar downtown. Our happy conversation let us to drugs and then he asked me if I had any at home. And I said “well... I got some coke...” remembering all the tiny bags I got from little Paul a few weeks ago. Alex was surprised and pretty much into it, and we had a noseful. He asked me if I can get nose candy easily, and I told him ‘yeah I can’... He got really excited and then he asked me about the other night, when I told him at the bar that I almost got shot. Shit, so he suddenly remembered that one. Damn. 

I kinda had forgotten that he is a sleazy bartender after all, keeping in mind all the strange confessions people blubber out in their drunken state of mind. Somehow he put two and two together and kept digging: “Ok wait a minute... are you a dealer or something? You must be, right..?” I said I really wasn’t a drug dealer, no. He asked me what I did then. Yes sir, that’s a tricky question right there...!  What was I supposed to say? So I answered a little vague and mysterious about being an office assistant to a nightclub owner and I said casually: “yeah drugs are kinda involved sometimes, yes. “ Alex was impressed “Wow, wicked. So you really are a badass chic, huh? Hey, how cool is that? And you can get free coke, right? Come on this is awesome...” Not sure why he was so eager about the coke.

Anyway, I thought it was enough talking. We were both a little high now and drunk, so I just kissed him and turned on the heat for real. Luckily I had no worries about my body. I was clean shaven and wore cute matching blue underwear. Before I always had to shave just before a date, and if I was unprepared, it would be like; no shave, no date. Which was pretty annoying. Especially when you did shave, and then came home empty handed and basically, it had all been for nothing, it was bloody frustrating. But since I started working in the strip club I have those regular Brasilian waxes and keep my whole body hairless. I also invested in good underwear. I mean, in my line of work now you never know when you get killed. And really, I don’t want to be found dead  in shitty underwear and then lie on some coroners table all naked and they comment, “uhh look at this hairy bitch, lol, she should have had a shave for sure... “

And, I really am proud of my abs these days. Yes, my body is super tight. But anyway, first we were doing it on my sofa... goaad his body is so sexy... those tattoos and his tight, big arms, this beard and aaahh, wow that was passion. Wild man for sure. So we initiated my stylish new, black couch, with trancy deephouse playing in the background, adding to the ecstatic mood and the rum bottle spilled all over my oriental, black coffee table, but hey, I didn’t care. We then moved along into the bedroom and yeah, he stayed the night... I was in heaven last night... and this morning... Nice! 

And he even stayed for breakfast too. I tried to keep the conversation light, avoiding questions about myself. I have not told him about my name ‘Ruthless’ either and I really want to. I mean, I really don’t know how far I can go. He seems so cool, open-minded and trustworthy, but really, I cannot risk letting him in on my secret life and how deeply involved I am, obviously. If only he knew. Again, I realised how difficult it would be to start a normal relationship. I have to ask the guys about this, like how do I handle people’s questions about my life. Do I avoid them, or lie openly with fake answers. Alex left before noon and I just said “hey, I see you around... ok?”  hinting that I am not interested in anything serious. But yeah, I did have a really cool night... and I love my life style! For sure!

(c) I am Ruthless

7^th april

I found out a few days ago who is going to do the hit out of town. They said it’s going to be me and Paul. Yay, Paul is fun, this is going to be exciting. But yes, I was so very disappointed that it wasn’t going to be with Jamie. This would have been a fantasy come true. Typical, ah! Well, another time for sure.  I hope... Anyway, Paul and me are supposed to fly out next Tuesday morning, then check into a hotel as a couple, and afterwards we are supposed to drive back home again with a rental. Cool. I’m looking forward to that, a little road trip with little Paul, haha. Yeah we are going to have a good time for sure. But hey, it still is a job, a real murder, I shouldn’t forget that. I will meet Mister N. and the Gardener this evening for a briefing.

Oh and Alex sent me a text already on Sunday... saying what a great night he had with me and that I was such an exciting girl, not like those other boring bitches he usually meets. Aww, I was so flattered. He asked me to come down and see him at the bar during the week. I didn’t go yet, but I might swing by later tonight for a drink.