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Soft lamps reflect off of puddles and wet sidewalk, and everything seems so serene. I don’t belong here, but if I don’t show up then vice is gonna catch on real quick to who I am. The tuxedo I’m wearin’ fits too tightly under the arms, and too loosely in the mid section, it definitely ain’t me. Normally I’d just rip this monkey suit right off my shoulders, but tonight again is a special occasion o’ sorts. I go an’ take this jacket off, an’ vice is gonna wonder why I have bullet holes and blood stains on the back o’ my shirt. Stupid old codger. Too short, too many questions, not enough sense in that thick head of his. Besides, he was gonna kill a lady. I had to put him down. He was a calm one, the cool, creepy kind of calm that makes a serial killer out o’ men. Psychotic calm. The former owner of my uncomfortable ass tuxedo wanted to off some dame because she was a smoker. I clubbed her with the grip o’ my pistol, but I let her live. The unlucky recipient of my brand o’ subterfuge. He was calling himself Robert, but I had called him Rob four years and it was difficult to talk to him and remember the name he desired. I received directions from James, and when I found the address, it was a cheap motel, not as Rob had explained. I went to the room number, finding it in the back, a smelly dumpster fifteen feet from the door. I knocked and a woman answered, and expecting me, called me by name and asked me in. James and Robert were in a sales meeting and I was invited to sit and wait.I waited an hour and a half, Dana, she had introduced herself, drank four cans of beer. Each time she opened a can I was offered but I refused each time. She was pretty well lit, these apparently not her first for the day, when James and Robert came back to the room. Robert had not changed much, a little older looking and a pound or two heavier. He still looked good to many women I assumed. Robert and I sat and talked about old times, while James and Dana went into the other room to.
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