To go with a fillet mignon…
I turned the dark bottle in hand. A nice Pinot Noir.
The label was clean, sensible, and direct. I read the ingredients and nodded.
I switched bottles, grabbing a golden one that was equal in size and volume.
Turning it so that I could get a good look at the Chardonnay.
The label was clean, sensible, but a touch flamboyant.
I rolled around some of the words in my mouth… and bet against it.
I placed the bottle back, exactly as I found it. Half turned and a solid centimeter off-center.
While I would prefer a neat row of bottles, it was a little bit harder to expect precision out of humanity.
Especially minimum wage humanity.
I grabbed two bottles of the Pinot Noir and made my way to the counter.
The cashier’s eyes lit up as I approached.
I was older than her. Perhaps even double her age.
Yet that would not have mattered as I looked into her eyes.
Her pupils dilated to see more of me. Her breath quickened as her heart began to ramp up from the regular sedated state it was in. Her cheeks flushed as her physical system ramped to her mental state.
I smiled, and it made things worse for the poor lady who was now lightly babbling.
My personal grooming was to meet my love’s high standards. My ability to stay neat and trim was because they felt that I was so much more then a half baked slob.
Which was true.
Sadly, I had found the love of my life and this woman. Cute as she was, was not it.
I paid. Tapping the card was so much easier in today’s world. Time was precious. You either were using it or wasting it. I disliked excess as it was something for the uncultured.
The worst thing in my mind was the loss of time.
You only had so much, and when you died… that was it. No do-overs.
I smiled, grabbing the two paper bags and made my way out of the store. I noted but ignored her bit lip as I left.
My car was parked near the end of the lot. A habit of one who needed to leave, and leave fast.
You would think that parking near the front was faster, but the panic of the moment could cause unwanted impacts. Impacts that could also comprise the workings of the vehicle itself.
Today’s cars were built to protect the driver. Which meant everything crumpled and broke to prevent shock to the driver.
Ah, the good old days. When you could smash into the side of a building, and so long as your engine works, you could limp it anywhere.
Not that today's good designs were all bad. My last car chase would have been a lot risker if I couldn’t just crash the vehicle, and walk out with fine as a dandy. The look on the driver’s face made my smile as I made my way up to the side of my car.
Dented cars were a visible sign of error. Cops were trained to look for such vehicles. My car was still pristine.
I then made my way over to the passenger side. I took a peek at the handle and looked into the back seat.
You only needed someone to hide in the backseat floor to make your day… longer.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Which was a testament to my skill that I survived five of those moments.
Sure three of those things were because of Alex. But he wasn’t wasting time, and I am a man who values efficiency.
I chuckled as I remembered the blue civic. Alex still hadn’t paid me back for the knife tears and bullet holes from that encounter.
In honor of Shen’s water burial, and his trials that brought Alex into my personal life. Perhaps I would throw some wine into the sea this winter.
I laid down the bottles into the passenger side, and then made my way over to my own seat.
My eyes slid over the bottom of my car. Black was today’s color as smudges were ever so prominent. The car was as I had left it. A little dirty and nothing disturbed the natural pattern of dust.
I slid in, turned on the vehicle, and secured my seat belt.
I stared at the time. 4:55.
Good, I was ahead of schedule.
Traffic was there, but I didn’t have to touch the main roads, and the ride was pleasant as I watched the world move around me.
Thousand of people unaware of how dirty the world could be. Thousands of people who wanted to stay ignorant.
Not that I could blame them.
The city began to thin a little. The homes became sparser, and sparser until I was driving into farmland.
Which lead me to an estate two stories tall.
Which revealed the first problem. Two white vans.
I blinked as I looked at the rental plates. U-Haul’s logo was plastered across its sides.
I pulled up beside them and frowned. I opened the storage between the two seats and pulled out four clips. I slid them into my pocket as I grabbed the bottles of wine.
5:18. Still early, but it already seemed like I was late to something.
I made sure to act casually as I made my way to the front door. It was left open and I mentally patted my holstered gun. By habit I had serviced it earlier this week and if these guests were unfriendly…
They would quickly learn why I was on so many flee on sight lists around the globe.
“Alex?”
“In the kitchen! Watch your step! Keep your shoes on!”
I frowned at the unusual greeting, but there was no panic word of time or timepiece so I relaxed as I made my way in.
True to Alex’s warnings, there were puddles of blood staining the dark wood floor.
I made my way into the kitchen to see four burly men in jumpsuits scrubbing down the kitchen.
Alex smiled at me and it made me smile back. I stepped to the side as two of the men picked up a dead body and made their way outside.
“Guests?” I asked as I placed the bottles onto the counter. My eyes scanned him, but there were no injuries I could see. There was a half hole in the sweater’s left sleeve.
The lack of blood meant that Alex was moving right and the bullet nearly glanced him. I could see unharmed skin when Alex stood still.
“You wouldn't believe it,” he said as I slid up to me and kissed my cheek before moving away to as Mister Clean walked in. The sounds of the top started up as Alex began to carefully, and vigorously, wash a knife.
The man was well dressed. The clean suit, if a bit mix-matched. Rumors said that he liked to pretend to be high class by thrift stores. I believed them.
But damn did I love his crew.
“Nick!” he laughed as he walked up to me and we both sidestepped to allow the men to head back in and pick up another body.
“Charles,” I greeted and we both shook hands.
“Looks like you are having a good influence on Alex,” Charles praised as he pointed to the holes on the body. One body shot. One headshot. Clean and professional.
I smiled in pride as Alex was a bit of a showboat when we first met. All headshots that tended to miss rather than a hit.
I watched as the crew quickly finished up. Industrial cleaner, experienced staff, and no questions were the hallmark of Mister Clean’s Crew.
Alex pressed a dozen coins into Charle’s hands and the man gave us a half bow before he pulled on a fedora and whistled as he closed the front doors.
The sounds of the van’s starting filled our ears but they quickly left.
“It was Shen’s men,” Alex said as he finished scrubbing the knives and laid them onto the drying rack. Looks like we were buying yet another set of kitchen knives.
They were kitchen knives, but Alex was very careful with his little beauties. He also disliked cooking with anything he had used to murder men. Something I wholeheartedly agreed with.
I blinked. Shen? As in I shot him and let him fall into the ocean Shen?
I raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah. Mister hole in the left lung and I will die with honor! That Shen,” Alex laughed as he dried his hands and hugged me. I wrapped an arm around him in turn.
It was nerve-wracking to know that your love was in danger. Even if it was someone as well trained as Alex.
No matter how trivial he said it was… there was always chance in firefights.
There were bullet holes everywhere and now we had to call the Toolman to fix everything.
Ugh, we needed to stay somewhere else for a while then.
Which meant that we had a vacation on our hands.
“We can kill him starting tomorrow. The night’s ruined, the vegetables were burnt in the oven when I had to kick it to the max. Burnt the food, ad the head of a goon,” Alex explained and I nodded along.
The lack of a portion of food was fine for me, but Alex was a stickler when it came to things like that.
It was inefficient, but if Alex could deal with my need for logic and efficiency, I could deal with his quirks as well.
“Pizza?” he asked as I kissed the top of his head.
“Sounds good,” I said as I moved us to the living room.
“The usual then?” Alex asked as he pulled out his phone. The man’s three main folders were food, social media, and the hit list.
“I am a meat lover, through and through,” I joked as my hands began to wander.
Alex smirked in return as he pressed into me and playfully yelped when I slapped his butt.
Time with Alex was far from efficient, but it was also never wasteful.
Though it did sadden me when I realized the shift from steak to pizza made my choice in wine… turn sour.