Another late night at work, but they always were. I down my last scotch and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror behind the bar. My face is expresionless and ragged, barely containing my eyes which resemble shattered marbles held together with red paste.
I watch my boss through the mirror. He's slowly making his way from his usual corner booth with tonight's playthings, each a giggling, superficial mess, their noses glowing red from tonight's unmentioned festivities. Each of them is worn-out, but their eyes are as wide as children on Christmas.
The bartender, Greg, speaks-up with a crooked smirk, "They'd better do another hit ... they're gonna need their strength." He laughs at his own comment and goes about his closing duties and I hardly acknowledge him.
The boss is saying his goodbyes to the few patrons remaining, all of whom know him and know his good side is the side they want to be on. He strides across the dance floor toward the door without even glancing in my direction. Once he's a few steps past me I follow in he and his companions' wake. It's a perfume breeze mixed with the stink of bar smoke and his ridiculous amount of cologne, it's a brief but unpleasant walk to the door.
Once outside I check the small of my back for my best friend, knowing it's there and ready. They pile into his limo and one of the girls manages to stumble and break one of her stilettos on the way in. They all laugh as she crawls in on her hands and knees. I stroll over to my bike as the door of the limo closes and they pull away from the curb.
I turn the key and I'm once again in his wake as we snake through the city on the way to one of his pads. I almost never knew which one we were stopping at since he made a point of having the driver pass two or three of them before stopping at our final destination. He hated that I liked to take my bike everywhere since he felt it marked his limo, so on the nights he was feeling particularly paranoid I had to drive one of his many cars.
I take in the night air, smiling to myself before remembering I was working, then wonder when I'd finally be rid of this shitheel and his floozies for the night. I snap out of my funk once I realize that the limo has come to a stop at a green light, just a block from the next safehouse. The driver's door opens and I'm was skidding to a halt with my piece drawn on him before he can get out.
"Where the fuck do you think you're going?"
The driver's only reply a blubbering, sniffling, "Please don't kill me! I had no choice! They have my ..." A muzzle flash, a red mist where his head used to be, and his body flings backward, falling on the passenger seat convulsing.
"Boss? BOSS?!" No response from the back. I unlock the doors from the front and keep my weapon drawn, making my way toward the rear door on the driver's side. It's so silent that I feel as if we're the world's remaining population, or at least that I might now be. The vehicle is bulletproof, so I know that if a suprise is waiting for me in the back, I'd be safe until the door was opened.
I give the door a quick tug with my free hand and lead with my weapon. I am dumbfounded, not knowing whether to scratch my head or burst into laughter. It's as if the contents of the back of the limo are frozen in time. All three of them seem to be passed-out, the Asian girl alone on one end of the limo, empty champagne glass in hand, my boss and the blonde in mid fuck on the other side.
I quickly check the street again, then I nudge my boss to see if he's okay. He doesn't respond, and based on the driver's pleas, I had already assumed they were all dead, most likely poison in the champagne. No pulses on any of them.
(TBC)
I watch my boss through the mirror. He's slowly making his way from his usual corner booth with tonight's playthings, each a giggling, superficial mess, their noses glowing red from tonight's unmentioned festivities. Each of them is worn-out, but their eyes are as wide as children on Christmas.
The bartender, Greg, speaks-up with a crooked smirk, "They'd better do another hit ... they're gonna need their strength." He laughs at his own comment and goes about his closing duties and I hardly acknowledge him.
The boss is saying his goodbyes to the few patrons remaining, all of whom know him and know his good side is the side they want to be on. He strides across the dance floor toward the door without even glancing in my direction. Once he's a few steps past me I follow in he and his companions' wake. It's a perfume breeze mixed with the stink of bar smoke and his ridiculous amount of cologne, it's a brief but unpleasant walk to the door.
Once outside I check the small of my back for my best friend, knowing it's there and ready. They pile into his limo and one of the girls manages to stumble and break one of her stilettos on the way in. They all laugh as she crawls in on her hands and knees. I stroll over to my bike as the door of the limo closes and they pull away from the curb.
I turn the key and I'm once again in his wake as we snake through the city on the way to one of his pads. I almost never knew which one we were stopping at since he made a point of having the driver pass two or three of them before stopping at our final destination. He hated that I liked to take my bike everywhere since he felt it marked his limo, so on the nights he was feeling particularly paranoid I had to drive one of his many cars.
I take in the night air, smiling to myself before remembering I was working, then wonder when I'd finally be rid of this shitheel and his floozies for the night. I snap out of my funk once I realize that the limo has come to a stop at a green light, just a block from the next safehouse. The driver's door opens and I'm was skidding to a halt with my piece drawn on him before he can get out.
"Where the fuck do you think you're going?"
The driver's only reply a blubbering, sniffling, "Please don't kill me! I had no choice! They have my ..." A muzzle flash, a red mist where his head used to be, and his body flings backward, falling on the passenger seat convulsing.
"Boss? BOSS?!" No response from the back. I unlock the doors from the front and keep my weapon drawn, making my way toward the rear door on the driver's side. It's so silent that I feel as if we're the world's remaining population, or at least that I might now be. The vehicle is bulletproof, so I know that if a suprise is waiting for me in the back, I'd be safe until the door was opened.
I give the door a quick tug with my free hand and lead with my weapon. I am dumbfounded, not knowing whether to scratch my head or burst into laughter. It's as if the contents of the back of the limo are frozen in time. All three of them seem to be passed-out, the Asian girl alone on one end of the limo, empty champagne glass in hand, my boss and the blonde in mid fuck on the other side.
I quickly check the street again, then I nudge my boss to see if he's okay. He doesn't respond, and based on the driver's pleas, I had already assumed they were all dead, most likely poison in the champagne. No pulses on any of them.
(TBC)
marloski:
good writing!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!