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“Marriage vows mean nothing to you? I’m going to be faithful to her. Stop fucking around.”
“You’d be the first Capo to do it. Trust me, marriage is a fucking sham. You’d want what you always want, and she’d whine and try to stop you.”
“She could try. She’s too whipped to fight me on anything. Got her eating out of the palm of my hand.”
“That might be the case, but you wouldn’t know for sure. You’d get paranoid. Someone would let slip what you get up to on those ‘work trips,’ or your loans would get called in and you’d have no hush money left to hand out or you’d get fucked in one of another million ways. You’d end up in prison or a shallow grave for embarrassing the famiglia. Even if you didn’t, you’d end up fat and lazy like all married men, and who’d want you then? Not even your wife. This way, you at least get some dignity.”
“Murdered on my wedding day with my whole family out there? You call that dignified?”
“I call it justice for what you did.”
He laughs. “Justice? You don’t know the meaning of the fucking word.”
“You sure about that?”
“You act like you’re doing this because I did a bad thing. I know men like you. You kill for money, not for some highfaluting moral cause. Admit it. You’re as empty inside as I am. Only difference is I can admit it and you can’t.”
“No, the difference between us is I’m walking out of here and you’re not.”
“Yeah, today they send you for me. Sooner or later, they’ll send someone for you. Figure the best way to keep you from talking about all these jobs will be to get you six feet under.”
“Anything else you gotta say?”
“What about if I offer you triple what you’re getting paid for this job? Four times the amount? You don’t want to do this. My men will come after you.”
“Never know who did it. No one ever does.”
“Cameras in here. Got your face all over them.”
“Already disabled them.”
His swagger fades as he sees he’s finally run out of options. “Please,” he says. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Organization has simple rules. If an employee doesn’t complete an assignment, he gets eliminated. If I don’t complete this job, I get whacked. Can’t have that. I enjoy being alive, gives me a chance to get rid of scum like you. Twelve years old, Malcolm. The one that talked was twelve, you sick fuck.”
“I’ll leave. I’ll go to Hawaii. Fiji. Hell, I’ll sit on a mountain in Timbuk-fucking-tu if you’ll give me another chance. Go live in a monastery and never fuck anyone again. Please, I’ll do anything you want. Just don’t do this. You don’t have to do this.”
I straighten the two glasses on the tray. They were off center and it was bugging me. “Every man’s got a job to do,” I say, reaching into my jacket. “Got the things he has to do and the things he doesn’t. Right now, I got to kill you. You got to die.”
“Fuck you,” he says.
He reaches for his ankle, grabbing the blade I already clocked when I first came in here. He lunges forward with it and gets a little too close for comfort, almost cuts me before I respond.
I grab his wrist and snap it in one motion, moving my hands to his mouth to cover his scream. The knife falls to the floor. He glances at it, but he’s got more chance of flying out the window than he has of picking that up again.
I’m already shoving him against the back of his chair, holding his throat with my forearm, reaching into my jacket again and bringing out my blade. “Goodbye, Malcolm.” I push the knife straight into his ear. “That’s from Katie. She’ll recover, eventually. You will not.”
It’s the last thing he’ll ever hear. I reach resistance with the tip of the blade, give a hard push, staring into his eyes, watching the life leaving them like a flashlight when the batteries give out. Blood pours from his ear like from a dripping faucet, pooling on the floor underneath him.
When his body goes slack, I let go of him, standing upright and wiping the knife on his jacket. I pocket the blade before hefting his body into my arms. I drag him over to the corner of the room where the wedding gifts have been piled up. I make a space in the middle of them with my foot, dropping his corpse into the center. That done, I pile boxes on top of him. It won’t hide him for long, but it’ll do for me. I won’t be here for more than another couple of minutes. Only two more things left to do.
I look down at myself, making sure there’s no blood on me.
I unlock the door, stepping out and closing it behind me. The party is still going. The bride still looks miserable, like she’s regretting the whole thing. “Anyone seen Malcolm?” she’s asking.
I get back across the dancefloor, and into the kitchen before the search party gets going.
Van girl is standing there on the verge of tears. The catering boss is yelling right into her face. “You think I believe that? The groom on his wedding day would touch you up? You’re a fucking liar. Now get out of my face and get back to work.”
