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“Come on, D. We made an agreement. No contact until Boulder. I’m shutting off my phone.”
“I miss you,” I type. I hold my thumb over the screen and type some more. “I need to feel you.” I hover over that send button, but eventually decide to delete it. I throw my phone against the wall. Luckily it doesn’t shatter into a million pieces.
I walk to my room, falling flat on my bed. Even when you’re the richest man in the city, you can’t have everything you want.
On the floor are her panties, washed and ready for her to wear for me. I fantasize about the night we met. When I saw at her at that bar, I knew she’d be trouble. Hell, I guess we’re both destined for a glorious ending.
Despite the risks, I wouldn’t have it any other way. God bless Dasha for giving me her number that night.
Now, look at me. I’m plotting to take out the competition, putting my life on the line for her. Yeah, she’s trouble. But it’s all worth it, if it works out. By the end of all this, I’m hoping all three of us can have a drink and laugh about it.
There’s a knock on my door. I groggily walk out from my room. The doorknob twists open, and I’m face to face with my guy, Ricardo Blonque. Nickname: Mr. Clean.
“Never thought you’d call me again,” he says.
His hair is disheveled. His clothes are a mess. But I trust him.
He’s the best in the business.
“Ricardo. You look terrible,” I joke.
He grabs the pistol on his hip. “What the fuck did you just say?”
I glare at him. “You fucking with me?”
After a few seconds of silence, he smiles wide and says, “Come here, you son of a bitch. I’ve missed you.”
We both laugh, and I embrace him like he’s family. At one point in time, he was. Now, he’s like a distant relative.
“How you been?” he asks. “Still holding down that hotel chain, I see.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, I guess so.”
He gives the place a quick look-around. “So, why’d you call me? What could you possibly need from a guy like me? Sure looks like you have it all.”
“I have everything except one person,” I say.
He sets his bag on the table. It seems heavy. “So, it’s a hit job you want? I can do it, but it’ll cost you extra. Fifteen grand, up front. Another fifteen when the job is finished. Deal?”
“It’s not a hit job that I need, Ricardo. Well, not in the flesh at least.”
He clears his throat. “Well, then, what the fuck do you need from me?”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cigarette. I’m just about to tell him to put it away when he asks, “Can I smoke in here? I’m going to smoke in here.”
“Go ahead. Look, I need you to look into some things for me. Byron Alfono. What do you know about him?”
He sits down and grabs that bottle of booze from my table. He twists the cap open and takes a swig. “Byron? You’re looking into him? What the fuck for?”
“What does it matter to you? You have a sense of loyalty now?” I ask him.
“Nah.” He takes a drag. “But he does pay me well.”
“I’ll pay you even better.
That fifteen grand you want, it’s yours if you do the job well,” I tell him. “I’ll even pay you up front for your troubles.”
I run and grab my own bag, setting it on the table.
