I think this story might be a little bit shorter but it also might be longer but I also don't know

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I was walking out of the building when I stopped as I saw Jamia. She was tapping her pen against the desk in boredom. I sat down in the seat behind the desk with her and she looked at me in confusion.

"You seem bored," I stated.

"God, I am," she complained. "I didn't think it was possible but I think i think I've actually used the Internet so much i'm actually bored of it."

I raised my eyebrows. "Jesus, how'd you get into this job anyways?"

"I still believe I was sort of manipulated into it," Jamia grumbled.

"Oh yeah? How so?" I asked. "From when you met Frank?"

"Yeah," she said.

"How'd that happen anyways?" I wondered.

"I used to work at the one restaurant," she told me, "Frank would come over all the time. He'd always order the same thing, vegetarian pizza and coffee. He would always come in alone and leave me a big tip. We started dating and it was all great. We dated for a couple years and he proposed. Oh god, I loved him so much. Then, the day after our wedding at our honeymoon he told me all about the business he was in. It was weird, I was freaked. But he explained it and I accepted. He asked me to work there too, to join them. I finally agreed and became this receptionist-decoy thing. It was fun at first, then shit happened and Frank and I got divorced and now I feel like I'm stuck here. Well, I am stuck here. Can't quit, you know? Either work or die. Pretty cruel, if you ask me."

I nodded slowly, taking in her story. I need to know more. Need to know more about Frank.

"What kinda shit happened that made you get divorced?" I asked, trying to sound like I was just curious.

"Some shitty shit," she muttered. "How'd you get into the business?"

"Heard of it from a friend and they got me to join," I said.

"Well, I hope you enjoy it here because you're not gonna leave," Jamia said.

I glanced at the clock on the desk, seeing it was just past eleven at night.

"You're pretty nice, you know," Jamia said. "Some people here are just complete dicks."

I chuckled, nodding my head. The elevator dinged and I felt my mouth go completely dry when Frank stepped out. He looked over and saw us, a small scowl on his face.

"Here's one of the dicks now," Jamia whispered.

The two of us snickered as he walked up, resting his forearms on the desk. It was then that I realized he was alone and completely vulnerable. I could kill him now, I have a gun with me. I'm sure Jamia wouldn't even mind, she'd vouch for me and say it was someone else. She seems to completely hate him.

"Gerard," he said, giving me a stiff nod. "Jamia, have you checked those files I gave you?"

Kill him.

I can't, not now.

Yes, I can.

"No, this may be a surprise but I actually have a life," Jamia replied.

"Okay, well I don't need your attitude," Frank snapped.

"Well, maybe if you aren't such an ass about everything," Jamua mumbled.

Kill him.

It's not the right time.

It's the perfect time.

"You know, there's always a problem with you," Frank grumbled. "I work too much, that random girl called me cute, the kids are growing up in a bad environment."

Jamia turned a shade of purple. "You shut your fucking mouth, you ass!"

I raised my eyebrows in shock.

"I'm not the one who wanted to go out!" Frank yelled.

"I'm not the one who's always working!" Jamia shouted. "You never pay attention to our kids!"

Kill him.

Revenge.

Now is the best time.

I reached to the inner pocket of my suit jack, my hand wrapping around my pistol. Just then, he threw his hands up in exasperation storming out to the elevator.

No, I missed my opportunity.

Jamia stormed out through a door that lead to her own little office. I raised my eyebrows, going to the elevator. It finally came and I went down to the my floor. I went into my room and frowned in confusion.

I was so focused before on killing Frank because he was alone that I hadn't even been paying much attention to their conversation. Their words were just now going through my brain.

Kids? They have kids? Why haven't I seen them before? Well, I guess in a business like this they're kept pretty safe and protected. Children, God. Frank has kids. He kills people for a living. And yet he has kids.

I left my room, wandering around until I found Brendon and Ryan. They were making out on one of the couches when I walked into the lounge.

"Hey, sorry for interrupting," I said.

The two pulled away and smiled at me.

"Hey, what's up?" Ryan asked.

"Did you guys know frank and Jamia have kids?" I asked.

Brendon stared at me and Ryan looked interested.

"Really?" He asked. "I only just learned that Jamia and Frank were married at all."

Brendon shook his head. "No, he's never had kids."

"But him and Jamia were just talking about their children," I said.

"You probably heard it wrong," Brendon said as he shrugged.

"But--"

"No, they most certainly don't have kids," he interrupted.

"Brendon?" Ryan asked, looking over at him in confusion.

"It's nothing, babe," he brushed off.

There was footsteps and none other than Dallon Weekes walked in. Ryan scowled, hugging onto Brendon. That seemed to take away all of Ryan's curiosity of the Iero kids, which made Brendon look relieved.

"Ah, Dallon, just the man I was looking for," I said.

I went over, wrapping an arm around his shoulder as I walked back out.

"Hey, that was the perfect excuse to be near Brendon," Dallon complained.

"Guess what, scratch my back and I'll scratch yours," I said.

"What?" He asked, looking at me in confusion.

"Do me a favor and I'll return it," I said.

"Okay, what do you need?" He asked.

We went to a different area and sat on a couch.

"Okay, so, you've been here for a while," I said.

"Great, is what you wanted was to just state the obvious?" Dallon asked.

"What? No, shut up," I grumbled. "Frank Iero, you know him?"

"Okay, what the hell? Just get to the point and stop saying stupid stuff," Dallon said. "Of course I know Frank Iero he's my fucking boss."

"Well, he's got kids, right?" I asked.

"Oh, yeah, three of them," Dallon said as he nodded. "Two of them are twins, the oldest girls. Got a younger son too. Ah, fuck, what's their names again? I honestly mostly just pay attention to Brendon, not Frank."

"That's all you can tell me?" I asked. "Three kids?"

"One of them has a weird name..." he trailed off as he tried to remember. "Cherry! That's it. Then her twin sister is...shit. No, I know. Ugh, it's right on the tip of my tongue. Shit. Starts with an 'L' I know that."

"Lorelei?" I guessed. "Lucy? Lynette? Lana? Leah? Lily? Linda? Lauren?"

Lindsey.

Don't think of lindsey, you're either gonna mad or sad.

"Lily!" He exclaimed. "Then the boy, he had a cute name. Cute boy too. I saw a photo or two of him once. Name was Miles."

"How old are they?" I asked.

"When are we gonna get to my scratch?" He complained.

"When you answer my questions," I stated.

"Ugh, fine," he groaned. "I don't know, I haven't heard about them in a while. And, again, I never paid much attention in the first place. God, I think the last I heard the girls were...fuck, I wanna say five? No, they aren't that old. Hm, maybe four? Three even? No, not three. They are four. Yeah, I remember now they are four because Miles was two and they are two years older. Yeah, okay, the girls are four and the boy is two."

I raised my eyebrows. "And when was the last time you heard they were four and two?"

"I don't know, man, what's with the interrogation?" He asked. "It's been awhile since I've heard of them. He's kept them closer i think. Wants them same and that stuff. He loves them a lot, you know? They're his children."

"Yeah, I get it," I said.

"Is that all you needed, Gerard?" He asked.

Hm, three kids. Two twins. Cherry and Lily, four years old. Miles, two years old.

"Anything else you know?" I asked.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Uh, one of the girls had glasses."

"Okay, guess you're dry then," I said. "What do you want?"

A devious little smirk played on his lips. "Get me with Brendon?"

"Get you with him how?" I asked. "Like sex or as your boyfriend?"

"Either way would be great," he said. "However, the boyfriend part would be better."

"How am I supposed to do that?" I asked.

"You're a trained killer, kill him," he said.

I shook my head. "He's a friend."

"Well, he's not mine," Dallon said.

"Wait a second," I said in confusion. "You've been here longer than me, why are you still the same rank as me?"

"Like I said, I really am only here for Brendon," Dallon told me with an eye roll. "God, I don't care about all this vigilante shit, I'm just here for Brendon, not ranking up and all that shit."

"Okay, well, whatever," I said. "What do I have to do?"

"Anything to get us together," Dallon said. "Make them argue more, talk me up. Anything, you've been a wingman before, haven't you?"

"Well, yeah," I said.

"Great, you are my new wingman," he said. "And you will be in my service until Brendon and I are together."

I bit my lip. "Fine, I'll get you two together."