They say February is the month of love.
What will that make a person born on February 14, baby of love?
I've always wondered which category truly should be tagged 'love babies', those born on February 14 or those conceived on that day? But that is a conversation for another day.
So, there I was in a dinghy bar, nursing a drink, waiting. The air was the heady mix of human smells and smoking. Jaded strobe lights strove to give the place a more upbeat appearance. Sitting at tables drinking alcohol and, or, pepper-soup was an assortment of individuals. A few were obviously wasted. I allowed myself a half-smile, fools.
The DJ who doubled as MC announced that it was somebody's birthday. Everyone was supposed to acknowledge the entrance of the celebrant. I did too.
One look was all I needed. The photo in my possession was your spitting image.
I pulled out the Glock and lifted it.
The noise of the shot caused a momentary cessation of activities. Then pandemonium broke loose.
I watched the goings on with a dawning of understanding. The hit man had taken a hit before he could pull off a hit.
For JCI,
on your birthday.
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