Image created in collaboration with AI
It was that wry, sneaky smile that only women can pull off. It was their eyes, the way they widened with manic excitement. It was both sexy and terrifying. And when Kev saw that smile creep onto the corner of her lips, the color drained from his face. He was already a ghost.
He tried desperately to explain to her that the lost shipment was not his fault. He’d been there, suited and booted. He waited at the Springfield dock for over an hour with the money packaged inside the speedboat. He called Mack, the supplier, but got no answer. These deals only take a few minutes. This isn’t a movie, where drug deals drag on for half an hour, everyone threatening and snarling at each other, like alpha dogs fighting for pack supremacy. After not receiving an answer to his phone call, he left immediately. Standing alone on a dock in the middle of the night with $2.5 million wasn’t good for his freedom…or his health. He pleaded to his boss for understanding, but Madam Anne only understood one thing: her product.
“I’m going to ask you one more time, Kev. Where in the fuck is my product?”
She shoved the shotgun into his chest, driving him backward. The rickety wooden chair groaned underneath him as he fell onto it. She loomed over him, peered into his eyes and pointed the nozzle directly over his heart. His arms hung limp at his sides. His breath sputtered out over bloodless lips. His eyes darted between her and the shotgun.
“Madam…please…he never showed…got suspicious…I left.” His very words were afraid of her. “Your money is there.”
He pointed toward the picture window. Outside, resting at Madam Anne’s private dock, was the speedboat. It sat untouched, duffel bags visible, the $2.5M still inside.
“Money’s replaceable…I want my goddamn heroin!” Kev winced as she screamed the last two words into his face. Spittle sprayed across his cheeks, clinging to her lip, like foam on a rabid dog. She could replace the money in a heartbeat. Her product took time, energy and effort.
“Madam, please…it’s not my fault…I waited…”
“I told you that if anything, anything, went wrong,” she said, cocking the shotgun with practiced precision, “it was going to be your ass. I cannot afford any setbacks.”
“Madam…”
Kev knew the moment he walked into the Madam’s domain that he wasn’t leaving alive. His head dropped. He opened his eyes to see the shotgun gleaming in its finality. He thought of his family. His baby girl. She had just begun to crawl. He would not see her walk.
“Goodbye, Kev. I’ll take care of your baby.” Madam Anne held the shotgun to his chest, waiting.
When he finally looked up, she pulled the trigger.
Jay Owens 