I close my eyes, ready for a similar fate as the whore. After five seconds of waiting for the cool steel of the hammer to slam into my cranium, I grow bored and open my eyes once again to the sight of James’s hand outstretched.

I let the moment sit in the air a little while. I’ll let him think I’m hesitant, as to not come off as “giddy.”

I take his hand. He hoists me up and brushes me off. Our eyes meet—almond black eyes.

Shit, keep it together, Will.

“You laugh like a man who needs a drink.”

“What about her?” I ask.

“Forget her, she’ll be dead in a minute or so from the blood loss. How ’bout that drink, Will?”

Sleazy music plays as James and I watch a girl named “Candy” spin around on a pole in front of us. I nurse my old-fashioned while James downs his third shot of tequila.

I feel my hand stick to the bar counter as I lift my glass to my lips. Stray peanut shells litter the counter, and it’s leaving me worried about how sanitary these glasses actually are.

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“So, how’d you find me?” James asks, breaking the silence.

“I followed you from the Millers’ house.”

“Ah, the Millers! That was her name! I never learn their names, Will, too much effort.”

He slaps me on the back and smiles. His charm is unbeatable. It makes it hard to imagine he had some girl’s heart in his hand fifteen minutes ago.

“And I take it YOU were the one who put the second baby in the mother?”

“That’s right. And I gotta ask, why leave the second one out?”

“It was taking too long, and I got bored.” He shrugs.

I flag the bartender for another drink, though it would seem that he’d much rather watch “Candy” take off her panties than do his fucking job. I see the beads of sweat start to collect on his balding head, blushing like an idiot.

James speaks up.

“Hey, dickhead! Let Candy do her thing and you do yours. My friend here needs another drink.”

He smiles at me. Though his eyes seem dead. He’s watching me very closely, feeling me out.

“Who’d have thought! Two serial killers sittin’ at a bar together shootin’ the shit.”

I keep the fact that I’m not a killer to myself.

“You seem awfully forthright about your hobbies with a cop, y’know,” I tease.

His smile disappears, and he stares at me blankly.

“Well, Will, it’s not like we’re humans, right? We don’t have to bullshit each other.”

…

“How about another drink! Bottoms up, buddy.”

He isn’t asking.