“You…” he stutters, shock coating his face. He doesn’t know me but knows of me. Knew I was here for him, to take him away from this thing he calls a life. My gun is in my left hand, my finger on the trigger, ready to be pulled.
“Why?” he asks, looking around desperately for help. There’s no one here. I made sure of that before I set this up. This hit is my only one this week. I didn’t lie to my body man when I told him I’d be taking things slower. My phone hasn’t stopped. My name and number are being spread faster—almost time to change the number I think.
I don’t know his story, I choose not to. I like these cases better, not knowing helps me sleep at night. Helps me not to care. This is a job, a job where I do not need to know all the details.
“Are you ready?” I ask him. The safety goes off, and my hand goes up. His head is now full blown shaking and words keep leaving his lips over and over, “No… no… no…”
“I will pay you whatever they are. Triple…” he says in between head shakes. That’s not how I roll. I don’t do it for the money. Yes, it’s a big factor. I charge more now than I did when I first started. I don’t go back on my contracts, no matter how much money is thrown in afterward or how much begging goes on.
“Say your prayers.” My finger pulls down, the gun goes off. The man drops to the floor. He wasn’t old, mid to late thirties I would guess. Fit, just not smart. Blood oozes from his head wound, his eyes wide open staring at the black sky above us. I grab a black tarp, roll him in it, and move his body over. I throw bleach over his blood then call my clean-up crew.
Another job done, another piece of my soul chipped away.
Another calling card left.
Her text sits on my phone. It’s been all week. I haven’t answered her or even when she tried calling yesterday. It won’t do her any good to contact me or be in touch with me. Nothing good comes from me, the blood on my hands only goes to prove that.
Jake walks through my door. I’m not even home for ten minutes when his voice calls out. He walks in, Stella behind him. I shake my head and watch as she walks to him and wraps her hands around his mid-section. She eyes me like she’s looking for a reaction, one she won’t get.
“Got your pussy, brother?” Jake asks, tapping her ass. She squeals and I turn my head back to finish washing my hands.
“Have it,” I reply.
“Some chick’s been asking about you,” Jake says. I dry my hands clean and nod my head to the door for Stella to leave. She doesn’t listen and Jake removes her arms from him.
“Car,” he says, looking at her then straight back to me. She cries out in frustration and slams the door when she walks out. “That bitch is crazy! How do I get rid of her?” I want to laugh at him, but he looks at the door then back to me.
“Good luck with that one.”
“Yeah, she’s a great fuck, but a mind fuck if you know what I mean?” He picks up a beer a starts drinking it. “Keeps on going on about you being in love with that chick you kidnapped.” My back straightens up, and he notices my reaction. “Oh shit! Who is she?” His hand slams down on the table, demanding an answer and wanting to know out of curiosity.
“No one,” I say, ending the conversation. Usually Jake knows me well, reads me well, except he wants to dig. He knows almost everything there is about me, so he’s not happy about not knowing who she is.
“Black…” he warns.
“Jake…” I say back.
“Just tell me this much. Is she a gymnast? If she is, can I have a turn?” My head shakes at him, always about the sex. “Come on, brother.”
“Go and take your play thing home, and don’t bring her back.”
“Give me a sec,” he says, picking up his keys and running out the door. It takes me a moment to notice movement over my left shoulder, and when I do my gun is raised straight at the intruder’s head. Hayden shakes, his eyes start to fill with tears. I lower the gun and tuck it back in my pants. Usually I wouldn’t even have it on me, but my mind is not thinking straight. It’s all over the shop.
“Your old man do that?” I ask him, reaching into the fridge to pull out juice for him. His face is bruised, worse than it usually is. He’s gotten a beating, a terrible beating. He takes the juice, wiping his tears away, his blond curls now longer than the last time I saw him.
“I hate him,” he whispers angrily. I pat his shoulder and he takes a seat on the bench, where Jake was sitting. “Is that girl gone?” he asks, looking down the stairs then back to me. I nod my head and Jake walks back through the door, stopping when he sees Hayden, then smiles and sits next to him.
“Boys slumber party, I reckon,” he says, pulling Hayden to him. Hayden smiles up at him. Jake knows his story, he’s seen him here enough.
“I don’t do slumber parties.” My mouth contours.
“Ah, shush up, you baby. Alcohol, movies, and more alcohol. How could you not want that?”
“I don’t.”
“Well, pig shit and bubble gum. And while you’re at it go and put on a pink shirt, might lift those spirits.” He chuckles to himself.
Idiot.
“Mr. Black only wears black,” Hayden pipes up. Jake looks down at him and smirks. Most kids would be afraid of him, he isn’t a friendly looking guy. He’s covered in ink, piercings through his face. Not Hayden though, he lives with demons, they assault him daily. To him we are his saviors. What a poor fucked up boy he’ll grow up to be, because we’re anything but.
“You know of Black’s mystery woman?” Jake asks him. I turn my back and grab some food out to feed the kid since he doesn’t eat well. So when he’s here he eats as much as he can.
“Yeah, she’s pretty,” he says. I roll my eyes and curse while grabbing a bag of chips and handing it to him. Jake looks up to me. Curious now. Hayden doesn’t waste any time opening the packet and eating them.
“Just tell me her name?”
“Rose…” He straightens up, he knows that name. That’s when I started hanging with him just as she left. He knows of her but doesn’t actually know her.
“The same Rose?” he asks.
I look to Hayden, who’s not even listening, and answer him, “The one in the same.”
“Shit, no wonder your boxers are in a mess.”
“Are not!”
“They so are. She was the one you took that night, wasn’t she? The druggie?”
“Yes.” I grit my teeth. We don’t touch druggie hookers, they’re too much of a risk. They steal, lie, and cheat. Anything to get what they need.
“You, my friend, are officially fucked. Fucked like a motherfucker.”
“I know.”