Try Harder

June 26

Beyond the gates of the Mimico Correctional Centre, Buff was getting his first taste of fresh air as a free man. His real name was Bryan Burley, but nobody called him that outside of a courtroom.

Wearing a black suit and tie, he looked more like a banker than an ex-con. Not a thread was out of place, except for a big thick crease running right through the middle of it. That's what happens when you stuff a three thousand dollar Zanetti suit in a storage locker for eighteen months.

Buff had been convicted on a single charge of breaking and entering. Up until then his record was as clean as a preacher's sheets. He'd been connected to over a dozen scams and confidence schemes over the years, but since authorities only had flimsy circumstantial evidence, Buff was never charged with anything.

Truth is, he was an excellent thief. Methodical and organized, he was responsible for hundreds of successful robberies. He never stole from anyone who couldn't afford it, rarely carried a gun, and never left a trace. Among other thieves, his skills were legendary, particularly in the art of safe-cracking.

Two years earlier, his tenacity had gotten the best of him, and police caught him outside a jewelry store in Richmond Hill. He'd been behind bars ever since. He never should have served more than a few months, but since he was carrying an acetylene torch when he was caught, the police considered him "armed." As a result, the tenacious prosecutor relentlessly pursued a tough prison sentence, and got it.

That was all behind him now. He was committed to changing his life. Things were going to be different. He was closer to forty than he'd like to admit, but he still had plenty of life left in him. He was smart. He still had his looks and his health. His body was in great shape, other than a little grey hair. If the lights were dim enough, someone could mistake him for a man ten years younger. For the first time since those handcuffs snapped down on his wrists, Buff felt confident about the future. This incarceration was just going to be a little setback.

Buff saw his sister waiting on the other side of the parking lot to pick him up. Her name was Emily, and she was a few years younger than him. Smart and hard working, she always carried a look of perpetual exhaustion. She was a law-abiding citizen who'd never even received a parking ticket, which put a strain on the relationship with her convict brother. Life had been tough for her. She worked hard for everything she had and resented Buff for trying to skate by without paying his dues. Yet, she had faith that he could reform. Since she was the only family member still willing to speak with him, he was going to need Emily's help if he was serious about sorting out his life.

He tried smoothing out the crease in his jacket with the side of his hand. It was a futile move. He cursed the damn prison guards. They couldn't even bother to use a coat hanger.

As he walked towards his sister's decade-old Nissan Sentra, a sleek black limousine pulled into the parking lot. Buff watched it drive towards him, shimmering in the bright sun.

He let out a deep sigh. He knew exactly who the limousine belonged to, and it wasn't someone he was anxious to reconnect with. As it came to a stop, one of the tinted windows rolled down, and a rat-faced French-Canadian named Roche popped his head out. He had a pencil-thin moustache, crooked yellow teeth and a cigarette dangling out of the corner of his mouth.

"Bonjour Buff," he squealed, with a stilted accent. "Is good to see you again. You dress nice just for to see me?"

"It's the only clean thing I had," replied Buff, forcing a smile. "It's nice to see you too, Roche." He was lying, of course. If he never saw Roche again, it still would have been too soon. He was nothing but a two-bit henchman for the French-Canadian mob, exactly the sort of person Buff was looking to avoid.