Chance Assassin: A Story of Love, Luck, and Murder by Nicole Castle Page B

an exchange of cash.  Frank had told me how he took his payments; half before the job, half after.  But Charlie had to pay for all of it in one lump sum.  That had to hurt.  “That’s that, then.  You going to finish the thing for what’s-his-name?  We probably shouldn’t stay in town after tonight.”
    “I know how to do my job.”
    “Of course you do, kiddo.  No one’s doubting you,” Charlie paused again.  “You know, it’s for the best, Frank.  That kid, that lifestyle, things would’ve only gotten worse for him.”
    “Vincent would have been fine if he hadn’t met you .”
    Frank was having a hard time keeping his cool.  This wasn’t good.  Then Charlie went on the defensive.  “His name was Vincent.  Vin-sint.  Drop the accent before you get yourself deported.”
    I put both hands over my mouth.  I was certain that I was about to hear a gunshot, but there was just silence.  It lasted forever.
    “How’s Bella?”
    “She’s fine,” Frank said.  He’d sounded irritated during the entire exchange, but now his voice was just cold.
    “What’s say we head south next, huh?  Find somewhere a little warmer?”
    “Fine.”
    “Okay, kiddo.  Call me from the road.”
    The door opened and closed without either of them saying goodbye.  I had planned on waiting for Frank to come and get me, until the smell of cigarette smoke started coming under the door.  He only smoked when he was upset.
    I peeked out before leaving the bathroom, even though I was sure Charlie was gone.  Frank was standing by the wobbly table where he’d set my coat, staring heatedly toward the door with a cigarette in his mouth.  There was a towering stack of cash on the bed.
    “You all right?” I asked, approaching slowly.
    He glanced at me, barely moving his head.  “How’d I do?”
    “You sounded angry, but I’m sure he expected that.” I went and stood at his side, taking the cigarette from his mouth and flicking the ashes to the floor before putting it back between his lips.  “Is that all of it?”
    “Knowing Charlie, it’s a little short.”
    I stared at the pile on the bed.  Even if I hadn’t been more or less homeless the last few years, a hundred thousand dollars would’ve been an inconceivable amount of money.  “Is that what you usually charge?” I asked, quickly trying to do the calculation in my head.  One hundred grand every three weeks was quite the annual salary.
    “Including his cut, yeah.”
    “Can I count it?
    “You can do whatever you’d like.  It’s yours.”
    “No, Frank, I―”
    “Vincent,” he started, then got a discouraged look. “Usually I’m really good with names.  I don’t know what the problem is.”
    “I love the way you say my name,” I said.
    It didn’t help.  He lit another cigarette.  “V.  I’ll just call you that.”
    “Call me what you want, Frank,” I said. “But don’t do it because of something he said.”  Actually, I liked V almost as much his pronunciation of Vincent.  It sounded cool.  Sleek.
    “Keep the money.  You don’t have to spend it, just keep it.  It’ll make me feel better.”
    “You shouldn’t feel bad.  You had a noble reason for accepting the job.  And it’s not like you ever intended to complete it.”
    “Charlie gave me that money for you.”
    “I don’t think that’s what he meant.”
    “Fuck him,” he said.  It was nice to see that my vocabulary was rubbing off.  I went and slumped down on the bed beside the stack of rubber banded bills.  Frank sat on the other side of the cash, collecting it in one hand and setting it on my lap.  “This is from me , not him.  It’s a gift.  My way of saying thank you.”
    “Thank you for what?” I asked, tracing my hand over the bills, the unfamiliar face of Benjamin Franklin under my fingertips.  Hell, even George Washington was unfamiliar.
    “Putting up with him.  I appreciate it.”
    I’d actually forgotten that The Warden’s displeasure had