9mm Kiss

1.

I’ve always hated the sight of people eating.  I don’t know why, it just disgusts me.  Maybe it’s because it’s something everyone has to do, it shows just how human we are, how vulnerable and needy.  But either way, it’s something I have to put up with.  It comes with the job.

This particular business meeting was with a washed up business man trying to struggle his way back to the top.  Unfortunately for him he’d accumulated some debts on the way.  Debts he hadn’t been paying back.  And my boss wanted his money.

His name was Roger something-or-other, I didn’t really pay much attention.  Mid forties, cute wife, two dogs, one cat, mid-sized SUV.  You know, pretty average.

I ordered the chicken parmesan, he ordered the ribeye.

I asked him about his watch.  Rolex, he bragged.

And so it went, as we talked about inane business matters, since he seemed to think we were here to speak about a possible business deal.  Probably because that’s what I told him.  I made my assessment.  This wasn’t a man fallen on hard times.  This was a man living it up, on the Organization’s dime.

It was my job to decide whether a man deserved to live or die.  And in the event of the latter, make it happen.  He was the latter.  It was a shame, I had tickets to the game tonight.  They were good seats.

We finished our meals and went through the motions of the post-meeting chit-chat to an expensive bottle of wine, his treat.  I made the expected promises to get in touch soon and we parted ways.

A good cigarette is my favorite way to begin a hunt.  Unfortunately this guy promised to be easy prey.  Unsuspecting, overeager, and ignorant to his own situation.  I should be thankful, it was easy money, but what can I say, I enjoy the hard ones.  At least the cigarette was good.

So I took a cab home and made my preparations to some reruns of the Simpsons.  I dropped by Dan’s house on the way to the office and gave him my tickets, no sense wasting them.

My office was on the second story of a nice restaurant.  Not as expensive as the one I’d just left, but the food was better.  The owner made sure that my cappuccino reached my office by the time I had gotten comfortably seated at my desk.  There are reasons I let these people live.

I made all the usual phone calls and got everything in order.  The boss, surveillance, my mom, you know everyone a normal guy would call before murdering someone.

And that left the wait, which consisted mostly of smoking cigarettes, drinking coffee, and watching some cheesy stand-up on the office TV.

Eight-thirty, time to roll.  I took a taxi to the parking garage and picked up my wheels.  I don’t like to drive except when I have to.

I reached his neighborhood about nine.  Surveillance gave me the go ahead.  Little Suzy was at a friend’s house, cute wife Nancy was playing bridge, that left just him and me for the big event.

The walk was short, two blocks, no activity in the neighborhood to speak of.  These were good straight-laced folks, in a word, boring.

I briefly considered the direct approach and simply knocked on the door, but that wouldn’t be any fun.  Sometimes I enjoy being sneaky, plus I’m good at it.

The back door was unlocked, apparently these people were not just boring, but trusting as well.  Which was fine, since I dislike picking locks anyway.  The ground floor was empty and the lights were off, surveillance told me that he’d gone upstairs.  I made my way up.

The door was slightly open and I took a peek in.  There was my good friend Roger, but what was that he was doing?  It seemed that this may not be as unfulfilling as I first thought.  I had caught my good friend Roger getting in a last good jerk to some homemade kiddie porn.

I am a bad, bad man.  But there are some people in this world that disgust even me.  Pedophiles fall into that category.  I holstered my gun, I wanted this to be a bit more personal.

I took out my knife, a cheap thing that I bought from a little bodega downtown.  Not that it wasn’t efficient, nice balance, fairly sharp, I simply hadn’t paid much for it.  Pakistani steel probably, maybe Chinese.  Either way, it worked.

He didn’t hear me as I made my way through the door, he was enjoying himself too much.  I could feel that evil smile that I get at such times crawling across my face.

I skulked quietly up behind him and struck, laying my hand across his mouth.

He had just enough time for a quick, “What the fuck?” Before his throat parted and his life ended in a vicious spasm of blood, spit, and cum.

And he wouldn’t even call me in the morning.

I left the knife where it lay, they’d find no prints on it and I dislike having blood in my pockets. 

The walk out was uneventful.  I’d check for news of my handiwork in the papers tomorrow, right now I needed a drink.

I changed in the car and trashed the clothes.  They really didn’t have much blood on them, I am quite clean about what I do, but it had to be done nonetheless. 

Dan joined me at the pub.  He’d enjoyed the game.  I was happy for him.