I step over the threshold of my front door as the dawn breaks through the night. My cigarette is down to its last puff. I extinguish the cancer stick on the ash tray next to the door; this is the reason it's there. I always smoked as I returned home. It was like a bookend to novels of my life, each containing what I did that day. Who I saved. Who I killed.
She greets me with a kiss on the lips, her lips soft like baby skin. I taste the lip balm I like. “Berry Berry.”
“Welcome home,” she says. She kisses me and takes off my coat. It’s as if she was raised in the 50s in a posh family.
“Hey, Doll,” She hangs my coat and I pick her up in a bear hug. She likes these. She would hit me if I hadn't waited for her to finish.
She lets out a sigh and hugs my shoulders, “How was your night?”
“Good enough”
“Uh oh. Trouble?”
“Nothing I couldn't handle.”
I walk to the kitchen, remembering the night – what I did in the dark. The bodies of my enemies. Dead civilians. Silenced witnesses. I told Ronnie not to do this shit. I told him at least thrice. Now there are bodies.
Red told me to handle Ronnie. I knew his intent. I couldn't. He reminds me of my brother with his will and gumption. The pure determination to do as he pleases. But what pleases him puts the company at risk. I'm supposed to kill him. He’s supposed to die.
“Another Time, Boss. Give him a chance. I'll take care of him when I have to.” When I said it, Red’s glare was directly on my pupils. He will kill me over this man. He's safe.
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