She was perfect. Primed and readied for weeks and the time had finally come.

“How much time do you have?” I asked.

“Just a couple of hours,” she answered.

I smiled, not one of those full teeth smiles, almost a smirk, that was the one that got her going. “I guess we better make the most of it then.”

That said she quickly undressed herself and looked at me expectantly, so I followed suit. Then pulled her to me, I started on the neck- it was the easiest way to relax a woman, though a few of the guys would debate me on that point. Quick kisses at first then long sucks and bites; she was malleable. I could feel my own blood pumping faster I knew what was coming. I’d almost gotten the moment perfect. I grabbed her face so she was looking right at me, then grabbing her thighs pulled her body onto mine. Finally, with her legs wrapped around my waist I got inside. Instantly she crumbled to the floor. In front of me stood Lola, looking so nonchalant that if she hadn’t been holding a dripping knife I wouldn’t have suspected her at all. I used to get mad that she’d always kill them right as things were getting started, but I’d already fucked her three times now and I liked to watch how each woman reacted. Lola says the best kills come when the victims are at their most vulnerable point. The only problem was I was slowly growing resentful. I was itching to pierce my own victims, to feel the excitement when it came from my own hand.

“Good work, baby.” Lola kissed me on the check.

Denise- or maybe it was Deborah- I suppose it didn’t matter anymore- was writhing on the ground she seemed to be trying to talk, but all that came out was this ridiculous sputtering.

“I think I got a lung this time,” Lola said. I didn’t respond she didn’t seem to notice. “Did she scratch you?”

I turned around to reveal a couple of gashes on my back

“Oh she’s a feisty little thing isn’t she? We’ll get you cleaned up in a moment but could you hold her for me for first?”

I slid my briefs back on before moving on to Den-eborah’s body. It was almost pointless now she only had a few breaths in her. While I held her legs and left arm Lola moved in on the right and began to clean and clip the girl’s nails. When she finished the first hand we rearranged and she did the other. Lola frowned.

“I guess we ought to water land her just to be safe, don’t you think?” I didn’t answer again. I was irked and didn’t feel like responding to things that clearly weren’t necessary to affirm. “Can you check the pulse?” I rolled my eyes. “Is there something wrong, love?” she said innocently tilting her head.

“I’m just tired of this,” I finally answered.

She cocked her head to the other side and furrowed her brow. “Haven’t I given you everything you wanted? I pay you well and-” she stopped herself in order to wrap her hand in the girl’s hair and pull her face up towards me. The girl looked at me in a final burst of desperation. I looked back at Lola “…look at her she’s beautiful, and she wanted you more than anything.” It was true; she was lovely – long straight brunette hair, high pink cheekbones, green almond eyes and porcelain skin. She looked like a doll. And this girl didn’t even crack my top five mice.

I took a moment to choose my words. Lola lifted the woman’s body and bandaged the knife wound while beginning to clean up the rest of the blood on the floor. “I mean wouldn’t it be a lot more efficient if I, or any of the guys, just did the killing ourselves?”

She was now finishing stuffing the used towels in the body bag and preparing to wash her hands. “So this is what this is about. Do you remember what you told me when I first asked you to work with me?” I shook my head no, but I did remember “You said that you never wanted to kill anyone and I told you you would never half to.”

I was exasperated “Well… I’ve just been thinking that it would be more…uhh… quicker- and… er.”

            “Darling, I can’t let you kill them.” She walked over to me now, so her voice was just a whisper. “The things I love about you- that make me want you are the same things that can ruin a hit. You’re aggressive and passionate, but that energy that makes you such a good trapper will make you a very messy killer and I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

            I knew I shouldn’t buy it, but for a moment I couldn’t help it. Lola wasn’t particularly beautiful. That’s not to say she was ugly. She was just… plain, even her race was undefined; Asian maybe or Latina. In pictures she was barely noticeable. Lola’s entire presence came from her swag – her walk, talk and general style instantly took her from a five to an eleven and even I got a little warm when she talked to me like that.

Without another word I went back down to my knee and put two fingers to her neck. “She’s dead,” I said quietly.

“Good then,” she sighed before tossing me my gloves. “Would you go ahead and take her to the car.”

I scooped up the doll. I’ve picked up food trays heavier than this girl. With my freehand I lifted the body bag weighted with towels and slid her body into it and zipped it. With that I hoisted her onto my shoulder and headed out of the peeling yellow motel room. It was only a couple of minutes before Lola joined me. She had crime scene clean-up down to a science. She stopped in the trunk and added the rest of her cleaning products to the now stuffed body bag just before hopping in the front seat, tossing me a first aid kit for my back and cautiously headed down the street.  We sat quietly for a moment until the road became familiar.

“Are we going back to the restaurant?” I asked

            “Yes, at this rate we’ll be able to get there, before it opens.”

            “You’re going to make me do a shift… after tonight?”

            “Don’t be cross, darling. It’s just that Junius has plans to cook breakfast for his new mouse and God, knows he’s been covering your shifts a lot lately.”

            Junius, or June, was one of the four waiters who worked at Guilty Pleasure with me. The youngest. He had a baby face, red-hair and freckles. His current target was a Mrs. Watts, whose husband told Lola that June would be far from the first man she’d hosted between her legs since they’d exchanged vows. He specifically requested that she suffer a bit when she died.

            When I walked in two of the waiters, Lavi and Patamon were playing table football.

            “Field goal, muhfucka,” Lavi laughed. Lavi Busch was a tall, muscular, black man. His pearly smile shone even whiter against his dark skin. He had been with Lola the longest, since before she opened the restaurant and probably had two or three times the hits than the rest of us. The funny thing was that he wasn’t better than me at trapping, girls just melted around him. Maybe that’s why he spent all of his time here. Lavi once had a promising track career. While in high school the Olympic team recruited him. But since meeting Lola he slowed on his practicing and now had stopped competing all together.

            Pat was Native American, plucked straight from the frontier. I don’t think he particularly cared for woman or letting them die, but as far as I could tell he thought anything was an upgrade from life on the reservation.

            “How was last night?” Pat asked ignoring Lavi’s victory dance across the table.

            “Smooth, she was easy,” I answered.

            “You better watch your back Lav, Indra’s been catching mice like Swiss cheese.” Now he laughed.

Lavi smirked. “It’s cool, I can’t pick up anymore if I tried.”

At that moment someone walked through the door; a lanky man, skinny almost to the point of malnutrition with a strong nose and chin, and droopy deep-set eyes that prevented him from being attractive. Without looking at any of us he walked over to a corner table dragging his feet and slouching deeper with each step. All three of our eyes followed him. It was rare that we saw men in here at all. Based on the assets of the wait staff our clientele was predominantly young, single or disgruntled women. The men who did come were normally gay or visiting from out of town, but this man with his long black trench and worn slacks was clearly a straight, lonely New Yorker. Pat reached for his apron and notepad. I stopped his hand.
            “I got this one,” I said tying my own apron around my waste and heading over to his table.

The man was now reading The Times.

“Can I get you a menu, sir?”

“No, I want a coffee and the breakfast special, with French toast.”

I took down his order surprised that he knew our specials I looked at his face trying to gage if I’d seen him before. I couldn’t recall that I had.

“That’ll be up in just a minute, sir,” I turned to drop off the order in the kitchen, but his voice stopped me.

“You heard about all these missing women?” he asked

I swallowed before turning back around “A little bit, I don’t really read the newspaper though.”

“Really? Y’know there’s nearly double the amount from this time last year, gone without a trace,” He sounded like he was trying to come off casual, but his voice shook a little as he spoke.   

 “That’s awful. It must be a real monster kidnapping ladies, like that. It’s sick.”

He sighed. “I agree. Anybody who knows anything could really help though… you know I think I’ll only get that coffee, and make it to go please.”

I nodded and went to pour his drink. When I returned he met me half way to the door and left swiftly. On the table I noticed a small business card. “Akuji Blue, GIU dective, NYPD.”

            Something told me I shouldn’t let go of this guy. I scooped the card and put it in my back pocket.

            “What was that about?” Lavi asked as soon as the door had shut behind Mr. Blue.

            I shrugged. “I think he was confused about the kind of restaurant we are.” I answered before sitting back down.

            It wasn’t long before we got our usual Saturday morning rush. The fourth waiter, Rico Hemenez, a chain-smoking, sweet-talking, Puerto Rican, finally arrived around 9:00am to lighten the load and June made it in around 11:00. We were all so busy that I didn’t even see when Lola came in. I finally spotted her at one of the upstairs tables. She was with round-faced white man, maybe in his early sixties. I knew I wasn’t the only one paying attention to what Lola was doing; all of the waiters knew what it meant when she sat down with a customer.  Finally, she sent one of the busboys down . She asked for Lavi and me.

I was annoyed to have to stop serving. Whenever anyone got put up against Lavi he always won.

    We both trotted up the stairs.

            “Gentlemen,” Lola started, “This is Mr. Rutherford.”

            Lavi flashed one of those 1000-kilowatt smiles. Fucking suck-up. I nodded

            “These are two of my best guys.” She said, fixing her glance on both of us.

            “I should hope so, for what I’m paying.”

            Lola smiled. “Well from what you’ve told me, you have quite a bit to gain from what we can offer you.”

            Up close I could see Mr. Rutherford was a nervous man. Perspiration dripped from his face continually and he would ritually take a handkerchief to his cheeks and temple every few minutes.

            “Justine Osborn,” he started, “she’s my daughter-in-law.” With that he pulled out a picture and laid it on the table.

            It was a wedding photo; a smiley, fat black woman, Mr. Rutherford and in the center, a young mixed race woman with curly shoulder length hair and a pouty lips. A saw Lavi face light up. Like it wasn’t bad enough, I was loosing one of the prettiest mice I’d seen in a long time.

            Lola was looking at the picture too. “Mr. Rutherford, if I may, why is it that you want this girl killed?”

            He dabbed his head. “It’s economics really. Her mother, my wife, is the widow to an oil tycoon. But she’s sick. Her body’s not reacting to the chemotherapy and the doctors say she only has a few months left. I happened to catch a glimpse at her will and everything is set to go to Justine, I’m secondary. She’s really quite a pleasant girl I just can’t let anything mess up my money. You understand that?”

            Lola smiled sweetly. “Of course, quite well actually… well let’s get down to business than. Do you have a preference between these two?”

            He barely took a breath. “You sir,” he said outstretching a hand toward Lavi. I sighed quietly and turned on my heel to go back downstairs.

            “Wait,” Lola said quietly, but with such firmness I lost my balance trying to stop myself mid-stride. “May, I make a suggestion?” Rutherford nodded. “I think you should reconsider. From what you’ve told me about this girl, she’s quite smart doesn’t fall for the usual tricks, I think is what you said. Well Indra here doesn’t play the usual games.” Her eyes were fixed so intently on Mr. Rutherford now that he wiggled a little in his chair.

            “I understand what you’re saying, ma’am, but Justine doesn’t date white men.”

            “I think that she may say that and may exhibit that, but I think there’s always an exception, and from my experience every woman a bit more like their mother than they’d like to lead on and based on you as well as this girl’s light skin color, mama must be quite keen on white men.”

            He was silent for a minute. When he finally did start talking his voice was small. “Well, I can’t question your reputation and if it’s really what you believe…” Lola nodded. “Than I suppose I should trust you.”

            She smiled again. I saw Lavi cut me a menacing glare before taking heavy steps back down the stairs.

            I couldn’t help but smirk just a little bit, I’d taken down Goliath. I realized that Lola was staring me down.

            “It’s time to set the trap,” she whispered.

            “Of course,” I said horridly looking for my note pad. “Okay, let’s get this order started.

            Mr. Rutherford looked a bit caught off guard. “Well I suppose I could for some eggs… or… err-”

            “No, no, I’m sorry… well we can get you eggs if you’d like, but what I meant was tell me exactly what you need from me.” I responded

            “Oh, yes, yes, right. Well it doesn’t have to be done any particular way. I suppose you should do it as quickly as possible and she doesn’t need to be scared if it’s not necessary. You know just do it,” He said, his voice trailed off at the end.

            “Do you want proof?”

            “Oh God, no, I just don’t want her to came, back. I don’t need to see the details.”

            “Ok, tell me, what does she like? Hate?

            “Loves writing, she’s working to become a staff writer for the times right now….” Great, I was going to trap a girl from the paper that’s covered every single mouse we’ve killed in the entire two years the shop has been open. “favorite color is red,” he rambled, “she doesn’t like spicy food or seafood, lives off those Starbucks mochas- goes there every day after work  and she loves music. She’s always got those god damn head phones to her ears-”

            “Music?” I could hear my heart croon.

            “Yea, what are you a singer or something?”

            “Some lifetime ago,” I said, trying to retain some business credibility. “What’s her favorite song?”

            “Oh, I don’t know...”

            “Think, please, it could be important.”

            For a moment he scrunched his face looking poised to protest, but I suppose he decided he was done trying to understand how we do things. He sighed.

            “Her mother mentioned something about trying to get her an old Sam Cooke LP, it had something to do with life or change maybe…”

            “‘Change is Gonna Come?’” I said hearing my voice squeak out excitedly like a pubescent twelve-year-old.

            “Yah, I’d say that’s the one.”

            “Thank you, sir. I think that’s about all of the information I need.”

            “Well, alright… the check then...”

            I busily, started adding numbers. Motel price, plus my fee and Lola’s, no film, clean up cost, insurance for possible witnesses…

            I stopped realizing my mistake. “I almost forgot to ask, do you need this done by a specific time?”

            “Oh, yes, I forgot you weren’t here for this. It must be done tonight. Tomorrow she’s set to leave for Liberia for a year to study underprivileged retards or some shit.”

            “Tonight?”

            “Yes, I was told that-”

            I left Mr. Rutherford mid-sentence and tore off back down the stairs.

            “Lola!” I yelled imprudently through the restaurant. I could feel the patrons’ eyes on me all at once.

            “Hush man,” Pat said rushing to me and putting a finger to his lip.

            “Do you know Lola’s trying to make me trap a girl in one night?” I said not quite matching the whisper he’d requested.

            “Man, shut up! You’re gonna get us all fried. I understand your problem, Indie, but you gotta calm down. Why don’t you take a deep breath and then go talk to Lola? She’s out front taking a cigarette break.”

            I skipped the breathing and pushed past a couple customers who were hurriedly trying to leave and hit the door one of them bounced back on two the glass wall.

            I saw Lola taking a long drag on what was clearly the last leg of a battered cigarette. She was looking quite upset herself. As soon as the door hit she looked at me with such ferocity that I almost lost my nerve.

            “What the fuck are you doing!” she screamed.

            I’d never heard that high of a tone fly from her lips and the face that had always seemed so amiable now twisted into a wretched, contrived, witch-like expression.  I gulped trying to free the words that seemed to be lodged in my throat.

            “What-what are you doing? I can’t trap a girl in one night.”

            “Are you complaining? You pussy, I give you the fucking opportunity of a lifetime and this is how you repay me?”

            “Opportunity of a lifetime? That’s what you call this? Making me drag girls to nasty motels so I can watch you reap the benefits of all my work!”

            “Will you be quiet?!” she seethed.

            “I’m not your fucking son and I’m done being your fucking errand dog, too. Let Lavi have this fucking ‘opportunity of a lifetime,’ See if his kindergarten brain can handle it.”

            I left. Lola didn’t try and stop me. It only took ten minutes for my Harley to get me back to my loft in the Upper East Side. I knocked over a lamp, then a chair. I thought about taking out my guitar, but then realized it may be a while before I could pay to buy another one.

            “Fuck that, bitch,” I muttered, stripping down to get in the shower. “I ought to blow the lid off this whole bullshit.” As I got ready to step into the searing water it came to me. I frantically searched my pockets. It was still there, the card from the detective. I quickly dialed the number.

            “C’mon pick up, pick up.”

              “Hello,” a tired voice said.

               "Hello, is this Akuji Blue?"

               "Yes, may I ask with whom I'm speaking?"

               "This is Indra Boone."

               "I'm sorry Mr. Boone, I don't think I know-"

               "I'm a waiter at Guilty Pleasure."

               "Of course, of course, I'm sorry. How are you doing?"

               "Don't waste your pleasantries on me. Let's keep this short. I need to meet you tonight."

"Umm, I really would prefer tomorrow. I could really use some sleep.

 Perhaps, around noon-"

               "We'll meet tonight or not at all. If you don't want to know who's behind all these missing women then that's your choice."

               He sighed. "When and where?"

               I told the detective the name of a local restaurant and promised I'd be there at 7:00pm.

               My plan was perfect. I would tell the detective that Lola had killed all the girls. Tell him where the bodies that she hadn't thrown in the ocean were. I'd tell him that all of the waiters knew, she said she'd kill us all if we squealed. It wouldn't be hard to get the guys to lie for me. They may be mad about it, but they'd have to deal or be charged as accessories.  

With nearly three hours before I had to meet the detective I sat on my bed tuning my guitar and thinking about Lola.

               "She deserves this," I said, not sure who I was trying to convince.

               "She treats all of us like shit. She needs to see how important we really are."

               It seemed crazy how the day had turned. This morning I was trapping like usual and now I was getting ready to put Lola's business to bed for good. The only thing I couldn't make sense of was why Lola had been so angry when I came outside. She'd looked angry before I'd thrown the door, hadn't she? I hit a chord; G rang perfectly resonating through the small apartment. Soon I heard another note in the mix. I leaned over realizing that it was the phone.

               "Hello," I said.

               "Hello, darling," the familiar sultry voice sang from the receiver.

               "Lola."

               "Can we talk, Indra?"

               "We're talking now, aren't we?" I could feel my heart beating faster. Something about this woman...

               "Yes, how silly of me, but I'd really love to see you in person."

               I leaned over and looked at the clock. 5:43. "I have some where to be at. 7:00," I said.

               "I won't keep you long, I promise, I just really need to see you... and apologize."

I swallowed deeply and thought about it for a moment. It couldn't hurt, I finally decided.

               "At the restaurant?" I asked

               "Yes," she answered, her voice sounding considerably perkier.

               "A'ight. I'll be there soon."

               I don’t know why I bothered to get dressed up or put on cologne, but I did. It was nearly 6:30pm before I made it back to the Guilty Pleasure. From outside I could see all of the waiters cleaning tables and Lola counting out the money in the register, it looked like the cooks had already gone home. I knocked, everyone looked up briefly. June opened the door and quickly went back to work. I walked over to Lola. She smiled.

               “Let’s go upstairs,” she said quietly.

               Without speaking I followed her up the familiar stairs we sat at a table toward the back wall so the rest of the staff couldn’t hear us.

               We looked at each other for a moment, both of us wondering who would start.

               “I’m sorry,” she started, “it was unfair of me to think that you could do this in one night-“

               “Whoa, I’m not saying I couldn’t do it in one night.”

               She raised an eyebrow. “Then what were you so upset about?”

               “I… well…” Suddenly I felt dim, “I suppose I just felt like I shouldn’t have to, I… I do a lot of work around here already, y’know?”

               “I do and I’m sorry, is there anyway that you could find it in tour heart to forgive.” This was strange, apologies didn’t usually come from Lola unless they served to further her own motives.

               “I… I mean… I don’t know.”

               “What if I made it worth your while?” Before I even had a chance to question her she reached for her purse. From it she pulled a long package wrapped in blue cloth and handed it to me. I unwrapped it slowly. I recognized the parcel immediately. It was a black knife, the one Lola used for every hit.

               “That knife was used in the Korean war by an actual Korean soldier. It’s Epoxy powder coated high carbon steel, leather handle.”

               I looked at the knife closely. I’d often fantasized about holding it. Lola laid a chair leg from one of the old chairs on the table.

               “Care to try it out?”

               She’d barely gotten the words out before I pushed the blade through the block. It felt like I was slicing a tomato. I could feel myself grinning.

               “Still,” I said, coming back to earth, “I still don’t see what this has to do with-”

               “I want you to do the hit to night.” She said

               “That still doesn’t-”

               “No, no. I don’t think you understand. I want you to do the hit tonight.”

               I was stunned. I couldn’t think straight. My mind kept bouncing between turning Lola in and staying here. Is this really what I wanted?

               “You’ve come a long way since I found you singing on sidewalks in Harlem,” Lola said, “this is your time. You were right. There’s no way Lav can do this, Indie.”

               “What time does this girl get off of work?” I finally asked.

               Lola’s sly little smile returned. “7:00,” she answered.

               “Which car am I taking?”

               She paused pensively. “You know, since we’re trying something new anyway, I was thinking that perhaps you could just take your bike. Women love a man on a motorcycle, right?”

               “I can’t argue with that.”

               After cranking out a few logistical issues I headed back downstairs. Only Lavi was still inside, he smirked at me. What was so fucking funny? I imagined punching out all of his perfect teeth, but restrained myself. He wouldn’t be so damn smiley when he found out what I got to do tonight.

               Outside, Pat was smoking a cigarette.

               He looked up at me, his lips and face tightened into worry. He looked like he was trying to find the words to tell me something. After a moment though it seemed as if he’d given up and all he mustered was.

               “Hey man, be careful tonight...”

               I smiled. “Pat, lay off the bitchassness, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

               He smiled weakly. “A’ight, Indie. Peace.”

               I tore off to midtown Manhattan to the Times building, the idea of meeting Mr. Blue became a more and more distant memory with each passing street light.

               It turned out that there was no reason to worry about being on time. It was nearly 8:00pm before Ms. Justine Osborn finally made it out. She was unmistakable. Wearing a blue Armani suit with a large Coach briefcase, she was unmistakably loaded.

               Not unexpectedly she took off in the direction of the nearest Starbucks three blocks away. I watched her approach the first corner. Finally I revved my engine and took off straight through the intersection, stopping right in front of her.

               “Are you crazy?” Justine screamed, timid she was not. “You could have killed me!”

               “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t just let you walk by could I?”

               I removed my helmet and looked her right in the eyes. The retort that just a moment ago was poised to come from her mouth, now halted. She involuntarily reached for her hair. I had to resist the urge to laugh. It was quite obvious that Ms. Osborn did indeed like white men and lucky for me the blue-eyed blonde haired variety seemed to be of particular interest.

               “Will you get out of my way?” she finally stammered.

               Stubborn.

               I drove from the intersection and quickly parked a few feet away. By the time I made it back to Eighth Street she was already half way down the block.

               “Miss,” I yelled running after her. She kept walking. “I know you can hear me.”

               Stop. I know you want to.

               She started to slow down.

               “Got her.”

               I kept running, catching her at the corner.

               “What are you following me for?” she said without looking at me.

               “Following you? I think you make think that you’re a little hotter shit than you really are.”

               “Oh my god,” she said angrily, before speeding up.

               I caught her again. “Ok, ok, I’m sorry. I saw you from across the street and wanted to meet you, alright?”

               She didn’t respond, but she slowed down again.

               “So, what are we doing?” I asked, shifting my bag to the opposite arm. The weight of the knife was hurting my shoulder.

               “I’m going to Starbucks,” she replied.

               “Well, can I join you?”

               She wrinkled her face.

               “C’mon, it’s the least I can do after I almost killed you.”

               Finally, a smile.

               “Ok, fine.”

               We walked in silence the rest of the way. Occasionally, she would steal a glance at me. Things were going well.

               “What can I get for you?” I asked, “You look like a mocha kind of girl to me.”

               She nodded, looking almost impressed.

               We grabbed seats in the corner of the crowded café. It was packed with stressed Wall Street working types.

               “So what’s your name?” I said, leaning back in my chair.

               “Paula.”

               “You’re lying. Try again.”

               She actually didn’t look terribly upset that I’d called her out. “Justine”

               “Now that’s better, what a pretty name.”

               “Thanks, so what’s your name?”

               “Indra.”

               “Now, you’re lying. Indra is a traditional Indian name.”

               “Oh, you’re smart. But I’m not lying, my mom was serving in the Peace Corps. in India when I was born.”

               “In what city?”

               “What are you some expert on Indian geography?”

               “You said you weren’t lying.”

               “Fatehgarh, on the northern tip.” She finally looked satisfied. “Most people call me Indie, though.”

               “Indy? Like the Indy 500?”

               “No, more like Indie rock.”

               “What are you? A musician?”

               “You could say that.”

               “Well, what could you ‘say’ you played?”

               “Guitar, but I sing, too.”

               “So sing something.”

               I laughed. “I can’t just sing for you.”

               “Why not?”

               “You ask a lot of questions.”

               “I’m a reporter.”

               I laughed again. “Ok, well I’m not just going to sing for you. You gotta do something for me.”

               “Like what?”

               “Go out with me again.”

               Her smiled faded. “I’m leaving for a year tomorrow.”

               “Well, I guess that will have to be tonight then.”

               “What do you think I am?”

               “I don’t think your anything.”

               “Well, I think it’s time for me to go. Thanks for the coffee.”

               Fuck.

               I got up and followed her out.

               “I’m sorry okay.” I said, catching her at the door.

               She didn’t stop this time. I grabbed her wrist.

               She narrowed her eyes. “Let. Me. Go.” She fumed. I’d almost lost her. I could feel it.

               “Okay, just let me sing you a song, after that if you want to go you can.”  

               She stopped struggling. Fuck! What song was it that she liked, it was Sam Cooke, “You send Me’? No. She was looking impatient. Fuck, fuck, fuck! ‘Chang is Gonna Come’? Yes. Lyrics, what are the lyrics? I was frantic. She turned to leave.

               “I was born by the river/ in a little tent/ oh and just like the river/ I been runnin ev’ry since.” She stopped. I continued. “Oh it’s been a long/ a long time comin’/ but I know a change gone come.”

               By the time I hit the final stanza she was crying uncontrollably.

               “Please come with me,” I pleaded, “I won’t hurt you. You’re leaving tomorrow, right? Why not take a chance? It’s the last night.”

               She bit her lip, then after a few seconds nodded her head. BINGO!

               I smiled a half smile before taking her hand and going back to my motorcycle. I could fill her grip getting tighter and tighter as we got deeper and deeper into the hoods of New York.

"Where are we going?" She yelled. I pretended to not here her. As I pulled into the motel I recognized a familiar black coupe with an inconspicuous woman inside.

"I don't know about this place," Justine said, reluctant to get off of the motorcycle.

“Trust me,” I said in the most angelic tone I could muster. I reached out my hand and she took it. Hallelujah!

I rented the room, on the untraceable account that Lola used for all of the waiters and ordered the best champagne, which needless to say for Justine was still unsatisfactory, but she didn’t complain. The rooms luckily were not as cutty as the outside appearance and Justine seemed happily surprised once inside. She set her coat down on a chair. She had quite a lovely figure, pear shaped frame and honestly I’d found her personality to be not at all off putting. It occurred to me briefly that if circumstances or if the time was different that this would be a girl I’d want to date. With that I gave her a glass of champagne.

“Salud,” she said.

“What does that mean?”

“Health.”

I sipped. She gulped. I smiled again. Then I kissed her, on the cheek first, than her forehead then the lips. I started to unbutton her shirt.

“Whoa, slow down,” she said, putting her hands on my chest.

“It’s okay, baby. Don’t worry.” I slid her shirt off then and laid her down on the mattress. Clockwork. “Close your eyes.”

            I reached over searching the bag I finally felt the leather in my hand. I snatched it out quickly. I let my arm linger a moment, just poised in mid-air above her body. For a moment I analyzed, was I sure this is what I wanted? I hadn’t even begun to formulate an answer when I noticed a flash of movement below me. She’d opened one eye. Before my brain even comprehended what happened, my hand flew downward, directly to left breast. I felt the consistency change. It went swiftly through the air and then became slow and complex, like I’d just driven my hand under water. Exhilaration pulsed through my entire body as I turned the knife over and over.

Justine was gone after that one cut, her face emotionless with one eye open. It was her fault. She peeked. Just for the hell of it I stabbed her again. Then once more. Then once more. I stopped counting. I don’t know why, but I couldn’t help it. Each new wound exposed a new part of this inside world. When I finally stopped I could look into her entire mangled core. I looked at it for a moment.

“Wow.”

Then I text Lola.

“Done.”

I don’t know exactly how long it was after that, but it didn’t seem like much time had passed before I heard a knock at the door. I thought I’d heard other voices in the hall way, but when I checked the peephole there was only her. I opened the door.

Her eyes immediately went to Justine’s body.

“Oh no, we’re too late!” she cried.

“What-?”

“Drop the weapon!” a man yelled running in, gun cocked and raised.  

Suddenly six cops had swarmed the room, following the first officer’s lead.

“Hand on your head!” the man kept yelling. I didn’t even think not to do what he asked. I looked at Lola. She wasn’t alone anymore. There was someone patting her back. His deep-set eyes looked familiar. It was Detective Blue. She managed to give me a quick sly vengeful smile, before going back to her fake tears.

            “I’m so sorry!” she wept, “I was scared he was gonna kill me, but I didn’t want her to die. I told him he should turn himself in.”

            “Now, now ma’am,” the detective started, “this is not your fault. You did the best you could.”

Suddenly it all made sense. Lola had set me up. Let me kill the girl, made me drive my own whip. The shady bitch waited until I’d already offed mouse to bring in the cops. She was always about her money. There was no way she wasn’t gonna get paid for this shit. The only reason I could think was that she got tipped off that I was going to out her business. As I felt the cold cuffs being driven onto my wrist, I wracked my brain trying to think of how she knew. I remembered going outside, after I’d talked to Mr. Rutherford. She was already mad. How did she know though? Think. Fuck. Wasn’t Lavi smiling when I left, before I went after Justine. Bastard, he must have seen the detective’s card, and told Lola about me taking it after she went downstairs. He was mad I took the trap.

The only way this could have happened is that she called Detective Blue after I’d already called him; with her charm it probably only took a couple of minutes for her to get him to divulge all of what I said and it couldn’t have been hard to convince him it was me. He seemed to already know something was wrong when he visited the restaurant.     

She knew I was going to blow the lid on her, so she decided to get me first. Gave me what I wanted the most and told the detective that she was a threatened bystander to all of my crimes that finally decided to come clean. Looking at him now it was clear he pitied her; the imbecile.

But at this stage, who was I to judge anyone else’s intelligence. By giving the police this murder I’d sealed my feet I was standing covered in blood with a weapon that can be tied to more than 100 murders in the city. There was no getting out of it. All of the guys would testify against me, because if Lola went down they would all be anchored with her.

“Pat tried to warn me.” I muttered

The cop was still talking, “anything you say can and will be used against you in court….”

As I walked, or was lead out rather, I could hear a sultry whisper in my ear.

“I’m sorry, darling,” she whispered, “it was just… very messy.”