I Loved The Mullet, Not The Murder

1

I was sitting in the chair. Bright lights shining down on me from every angle. A man standing behind me. He leaned down and kissed the top of my head. "You're all done Jesse babe, head to the front, I'll be home at 5."

I kissed Justin firmly, and rose out of the chair. "See you then babe, I'm making meatballs." I paid my due at the front counter then walked out. I got in my car and turned the key. The engine sprang to life.

Time for work

I reached under the front passenger seat and pulled out a black duffle bag as I pulled onto the freeway. Reaching inside, I pushed aside my gun, and pulled out a manila folder. As soon as I pulled off the freeway and into a McDonalds parking lot, I thumbed through the folder and reviewed my info.

Target: Jake McMann
Age: 23
Occupation: Starbucks barista
Payment: $20,000

The hit would be going down tonight, and I would receive the rest of my money as soon as I provided proof of death.

3:00 PM Only 8 more hours and it would all be over. But for now, I needed a coffee, and I needed to make meatballs.

~~Time Skip~~

Justin got home, predictably, at 5. I had meatballs on the table 15 minutes later. We ate, we talked, we watched a movie. We went to bed at 10, and I rolled out of bed at 10:30.

I climbed solemnly into my car.
I should be used to this by now.
But it never gets easier. Most assassins don't keep count.

But I have to.

43 people.

Jake will make 44. I've been doing this for 4 years now, and it still hasn't gotten any easier. There's still the nervous butterflies and the sweating.

Oh god the sweating.

I swear I'm dripping buckets by the time a hit is over. But I've never been caught.

And I never will be. I can't, if I want a future with Justin. I don't want to ruin his career, I don't want to ruin our relationship. I want wedding anniversaries and a couple of kids, and to spoil our grandkids. I want a future, so I can never get caught.

I pull into the driveway of Jakes small home at 11:03 PM. In less than 10 minutes, it's over.

44.