part 3

I sat back in my chair in disbelief. The chair groaned, and inwardly so did I. To hell with the chair, I thought to myself. I could buy hundreds of goddamned chairs. I could live somewhere else with this kinda payout. Somewhere nice. And I didn’t even have to lift a finger, I coulda just taken the money and run off somewhere. But I was thinkin’.

Seems the dame had some expectations, for me to find the things she wanted. Now, I figured that if she had the cash to throw around like that, she had ways to make sure I played ball. Seemed less and less like she’d just come into the money to me. I could run away with the money. But something told me that if I did I wouldn’t live to spend it all. Didn’t help that I had something which most of this city didn’t have, an odd reversal of the norm. I had morals, I had standards. Kinda explained my current situation. But I’d rather die poor without guilt than rich and scummy. Which was why I was an idiot.

I looked over the broad’s name card. Cassandra Bouchard. Didn’t recognize the name. Could be an alias. I flipped the card over and over idly in my hand while my mind wandered. I’d need to grill my sources on this one. Normally I hated calling in favours but I figured since I got presidents behind me, I had more power than I usually did. I sighed, and pulled the stack of paper out from the envelope again.

I started to look over it again, just like I had the last four times. I stopped. Already knew what the gig was about, and all the pieces on the chessboard – why was it bothering me that I didn’t know who the players were? I couldn’t stand unanswered questions.

Who were ‘they’?

I stood up from my chair and shuffled over to the window. Streaked with grime and caked with dust, it’d seen its fair share of hell. I couldn’t bear to clean that window. Would’ve felt too much like painting this shitty city up in makeup and giving it high heels. I didn’t like living in Lost Haven and I didn’t make a secret of it. Which was why I was tempted to take up the job – 5 million would let me live comfortably in somewhere nice and classy. Like Manhattan.

Like a kid’s mother, though, I wasn’t comfortable with things that I didn’t know where they came from. Call me paranoid. But I had a habit of looking in the mouths of gift horses. I sighed, again. Did it really have to come down to this? I made a choice the only way I knew how.

I flipped a coin.

To be continued