We arrived at the designated parking spot 15 minutes early.  As I struck a match I had a brief glimpse of my unshaven face.  My reflection danced with the flame upon the car window.  Brian voiced some doubts about our night’s mission, but I convinced him the meet was legitimate.  His cousin wouldn’t have sent us if he didn’t trust our contacts.  “Besides,” I said, “We have insurance.”  As I caressed my Glock 9 millimeter.  He laughed uneasily while checking his Colt .45 he called pops.

A light flashed across the rearview mirror as a big Lincoln pulled up two spaces from the passenger side of my Pontiac Grand AM.  After a quick glance at the briefcase Brian was holding I gave him a nod.  I stepped out from behind the wheel casually surveying the area while stomping out my recently lit cigarette.  Brian emerged from the passenger side with the briefcase in tow. 

As I came around the rear of the car, a short dark haired man with too much gel and an offensive amount of cologne exited the Lincoln.  His passenger, a mountain of a man who could just as easily have been a star in the world wrestling Federation, Climbed out of the passenger side with a briefcase matching our own.

As the large man walked around the car, I heard footsteps approaching from behind.  Before I could react a loud crack echoed through my body.  Brian’s torso surged forward as if a truck had hit him.  I drew my weapon and fired point blank into the face of the fragrant gangster two steps in front of me.  An extreme force burned its way through my rib cage like a giant flaming spear piercing through my back and ventilating my lung.  The ear rupturing report reached me a split second later.  As my knees buckled and my body fell forward the man behind Brian grabbed our brief case and the wrestler stripped the pistol from my hand.

As I lay on the ground drowning in my own blood the assailants were assessing the damage I had done to the short man’s head.  The forehead was split open and the gel had preserved an unusual wave of impact as the brain matter and blood had passed through the perfectly quaffed hair.  The man who had shot both Brian and Me muttered some obscenities as he took my gun from the wrestler and fired a round I can only assume was aimed for my head.  I felt fortunate it was only splintered asphalt and rocks that penetrated my cheek as the bullet impacted 2 inches from my face.  “Let’s get the hell out of here.” Barked the wrestler as the men abandoned their fallen associate and screeched off into the night the sound of their tires long outlasting the streak of red taillights.