60 Even.

“I’m real sorry about this you know.” Leo said coldly as he positioned the chains on the wooden box containing Ren Henddy. “I wasn’t joking when I called you my bud you know, but you didn’t pay up, and I can’t have people thinkin’ that people can get away without payin’ Leo Patrick. But anyway I gotta wrap this up, you know I got a steak sittin’ on my counter that can’t be wasted.” With one shove the wooden box was beneath the waves, never to be seen again, and Ren Henddy was with it.1

As Leo walked back to his less than perfect red Camaro he momentarily thought about Ren. He actually did really appreciate the man, but the feeling wasn’t enough to overcome the addictive love of ending life. There was something about it that made Leo feel alive and in control, a sensation that was new in his life. He even had the perfect setup; his partner, Wade, was the one who handled the business, all he had to do was be sure the terms were met, and he received a generous cut. The best part was that Leo had no clue what the business was about; plausible deniability. The priorities in Leo’s life were simple. Eat. Sleep. Kill. 2

Before Leo got into his car he took out his keys and made a perfect one-inch line beside the existing 59. Now there were 60 even. Leo briefly let his conscience erupt. He was reminded of the promise he made to himself in the mirror three years earlier; he could picture himself seeing the barren shadow of the man he was, wondering if he really accepted this kind of job. After deciding there was no other way to make a decent living, he swore to the image in the hotel mirror that he would stop at 30, he couldn’t justify destroying more people’s lives than that. Now it was doubled. 3

K.