CHICAGO BULLOCK: LOVE & PAIN

Eleven

A few days ago Chicago had received another hit from Vincent. Carla O'Neal, a thirty-three year old high school teacher. She had shoulder length copper coloured hair that she styled with big curls everyday. She still lived with her parents in a three bedroom house. Like every hit Chicago got, he didn't know why someone wanted Carla dead.

He had woken up in the early dawn, and left Igor still sleeping in bed. He drove at least five miles before he stopped in front of the white three bedroom house with a green lawn and a mango tree in the front yard. Mr and Mrs O'Neal always parked their cars in their double door garage, whereas Carla parked her small white Ford fiesta just outside the garage door.

With everyone still asleep, Chicago was able to dislocate her brakes. A car accident on her way to school would go easy on her parents than to hear their daughter was brutally murdered. Chicago hated killing victims that had close family relations, because that means leaving a bunch of broken hearted people behind.

Once he was done, he got back in his car and decided to stop by a local diner. He had to wait for a few hours before the diner was open. But he didn't mind as he relaxed in his car, watching the sunrise peak above the tall buildings of Brooklyn.

A few minutes after the diner was open he walked in. The lady at the counter smiled at him as she flicks her black hair over her shoulders. Her body clustered in a red and white square patterned uniform, and a white apron tied around her waist. Her brown eyes sparkled brighter than the sun matching with her pink glossed up lips.

"Morning, sir. What may I get you this fine morning?" She asked, her light pink fake nails tapping the countertop.

"Someone sure had a good night last night," Chicago teased as he threw in a wink.

The girl laughed, as a blush tainted her cheeks.

"Desculpe! It's not everyday a girl gets engaged," she said flashing her big square diamond ring in front of Chicago's eyes. (Sorry)

Chicago chuckled, hardly looking at the ring because honestly he didn't give a shit.

"Portuguese?" He questioned, as he noted a hint of an accent.

The girl nodded frantically, her black hair bouncing around her shoulders. Her smile stretching into a full blown grin.

"From Portugal! You can speak?" She asked.

Chicago shook his head even as he chuckles at her child-like happiness.

"But congratulations," he said, pointing at her ring finger.

"Obrigada!" She said, smiling at her new ring as her hand was sat on the counter. (Thank you)

Chicago chuckled once again, looking up at the screen menu.

"May I have two chicken wraps, one with no tomatoes and one without the avocados. Then may I also have four chocolate chip muffins. And finally, may I have two take away coffees. One black and the other creamy and sweet," he ordered.

The girl nodded, her smile never once fell and you can still see her body shaking with immense joy even as she busied herself with the tiller.

"That will be fifty-six dollar, fifteen cents," she said as her chocolate orbs met Chicago's own.

Chicago pulled out a few bills and slammed them on the counter, muttering a, "keep the change." His eyes wandered around as the girl goes to put in his order. He saw the donation jar, and pulled out a hundred dollar bill and stuffed it in there.

Chicago leaned against the counter and watched as the girl moves around with an added bounce to her steps. She would randomly giggle and shake her head. Chicago was sure her cheeks probably hurt from all the grinning. She yanked the paperback the chef placed on the glass food cabin, and stroded toward the counter and places the two bags on the counter.