Stubs.

The night was as cold as a hooker’s heart. It was the kind of night that chilled you to the bone, trying desperately to shiver my gloveless fingers right off my hand. I stood under that lamppost for what seemed like an eternity, waiting for my contact to show. Sure he wasn’t the best of people, but I have found that most people ain’t. I wish I knew where the patsy was right now. If my hands weren’t so frozen I would slug him on the spot.

Sometimes it’s tough being me. I get the weirdest requests and they are always life or death. I can’t complain, if they didn’t believe I could get the goods they wouldn’t ask. I hear a weird noise coming from a dark alley across the road.

“PST…” it calls to me.

This is one paranoid patsy, I thought, as I crossed the icy road, trying not to slip and make a complete fool of myself. I still can’t see him, but the familiar call is still ringing in my ears. Funny how some think that a noise like that doesn’t draw attention.

I thrust my hands deep into my pockets and wander into the alley. Sure it ain’t the logical thing to do. I have seen a lot of movies in my time and blindly walking into an alley is always a bad move, but I needed the goods this guy had and one way or the other I was going to get it.

The alley stinks of piss and Rye, not to mention various other underlying scents. This alley was used up and abandoned, guess even bums have standards. I walk half way down and see the dull glow of a smoke. As he pulls a drag, his face is illuminated enough to see the pock marks and sunken features users tend to have. How this crack whore managed to work amazes even me. I go as close to him as I can without puking. I figured out where the smells were coming from.

“Where have you been Stubs?” I ask him for my frozen hands.

“Sssorry mmman,” he speaks in that shivered voice of his.

It takes him 5 times longer to say anything of importance. I try not rag on the handicapped, but it still annoyed the crap outta me. His stutter was due to drugs, guess that makes it okay, or not.

“You have it?” I said to Stubs.

He lifts his hand which holds an envelope. His head is darting back and forth, paranoid bastard. I take it from him and pull out the stiletto from my pocket. I slip it under his right rib just far enough to slice the lung and hit his heart. His eyes are priceless, all wide and full of shock. He had been good to me, but I hate waiting in the cold.

I walk out of the alley and down the street to my car. I get in and turn the engine so the heat would blow. Placing the envelope on the seat, I put my hands up to the heater. Right hand is covered in Stubs blood. I reach for the glove box and grab a few wet naps. Best invention wet naps. Once my hand was clean and my bones were warm I reached for the envelope.

I couldn’t help peering in to make sure Stubs got the goods. There they were pristine and worth every penny. Of course with Stubs playing night-night in the alley the price went down quite a bit. The car slipped easily into gear and I drive with a feeling of satisfaction. I am not a violent man, but sometimes a knife in the right spot really calms the shivered nerves.

I drive for 45 minutes to a nicer part of town. I do a lot of work in the filth of the city and it’s always nice to get into the nicer parts of town. As I pull into the drive the door of the house opens up. There’s a warm glow behind the prettiest girl in town. I park the car and open the door.

“Do you have it?” she is direct, no niceties here.

I hand her the envelope, she reaches in and her 12-year-old face lights up.

“Oh Daddy! Front row to the Jonas Brothers! I so love you!”

Her hug is as warm as cookies just out of the oven. My baby always gets what she wants, no matter the cost.

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