feel good if I were just running my fingers through it.
The more I think about it, the more I like the idea. Save the braiding for later.
Of course, when you have an actual plan in your head, the world likes to work against you. I can’t find Alina anywhere. When I eventually stop and ask another hooker where she is, I’m informed that she has the night off. I’m finally in a good mood and horny, and she takes a vacation day.
Damn my luck.
*****
After more than a year away from Chicago, returning to the routine of work and life in the city has been easy for me. The streets are familiar. The bus schedules haven’t changed much, and I still prefer public transportation to driving in the traffic. Aside from the gang-bangers down south, Rinaldo had only sent me out on two hit jobs. One was out of town and completed with ease. The other was one of the former Seattle guys who thought he’d set up shop in our area. He was mistaken.
At least I haven’t lost my touch.
Though I make plenty of money on a hit, and I’m not a huge spender anyway, Rinaldo has also been paying me to keep involved in more of the day-to-day business. I have a pretty good head for the numbers and organization of legitimate businesses for money laundering, and I’m learning more about the operations of those facilities as well. It makes for long days, but I’m all right with that.
Felisa has appeared more than a couple of times, and each time she does, I feel less at ease about her. I don’t like how close she is to Rinaldo. I’ve followed her a few times. She’s living in the building where I used to live, and Rinaldo has her set up with a bank account and a credit card. At the same time, I don’t think she’s just a gold digger. If she were, I probably wouldn’t care so much.
She’s interfering with Rinaldo and Lele. That I care about.
I try not to think about it. I try to tell myself it’s ultimately none of my business, but it still nags at me. I need to keep my mind off of the whole thing. I need a distraction. That would be good for me because it keeps me out of my own head, and that’s in everyone’s best interest.
What I really need now is to get laid.
I’m tired, no doubt, but I’m not completely exhausted. The last couple of nights have at least allowed for a few hours of sleep. The nightmares have taken a different tone. I keep dreaming that I’m in a firefight in the jungle, which is new. I can only assume the image comes from seeing the homeless vet on the street. The dreams are still horrific, but at least they’re something different.
Since the night of the bar fight, I haven’t been able to locate Alina. No one will give me any information on her whereabouts, and I’m starting to wonder if she didn’t take a month-long cruise in the Bahamas or something. All right, it hasn’t been a month since she was last in my apartment, but it has been three or four days. I still haven’t fucked her. When she had been there before, I had been content to get some sleep rather than do anything else, but I feel different now.
I want her. I don’t just want a hooker; I want that hooker.
She never even questioned the lack of sex, and I definitely appreciate that about her. I’d caught her eyeing me a bit in the morning when I drove her back to her corner, but she never asked anything. She never even brought up the nightmares again. I know she spent the night holding me until I fell back asleep, surrounded by the scent of lavender, but she didn’t make a fuss about it.
I’m grateful for that.
I cruise up and down the usual streets, looking for the one and only hooker I actually want to fuck, but she’s nowhere to be found. I do find Loretta and eventually get her to come over to the car.
“I ain’t goin’ with you.”
“I’m not asking you to,” I say. “Have you seen Alina?”
“She’s my roommate,” Loretta says. “Of course
The more I think about it, the more I like the idea. Save the braiding for later.
Of course, when you have an actual plan in your head, the world likes to work against you. I can’t find Alina anywhere. When I eventually stop and ask another hooker where she is, I’m informed that she has the night off. I’m finally in a good mood and horny, and she takes a vacation day.
Damn my luck.
*****
After more than a year away from Chicago, returning to the routine of work and life in the city has been easy for me. The streets are familiar. The bus schedules haven’t changed much, and I still prefer public transportation to driving in the traffic. Aside from the gang-bangers down south, Rinaldo had only sent me out on two hit jobs. One was out of town and completed with ease. The other was one of the former Seattle guys who thought he’d set up shop in our area. He was mistaken.
At least I haven’t lost my touch.
Though I make plenty of money on a hit, and I’m not a huge spender anyway, Rinaldo has also been paying me to keep involved in more of the day-to-day business. I have a pretty good head for the numbers and organization of legitimate businesses for money laundering, and I’m learning more about the operations of those facilities as well. It makes for long days, but I’m all right with that.
Felisa has appeared more than a couple of times, and each time she does, I feel less at ease about her. I don’t like how close she is to Rinaldo. I’ve followed her a few times. She’s living in the building where I used to live, and Rinaldo has her set up with a bank account and a credit card. At the same time, I don’t think she’s just a gold digger. If she were, I probably wouldn’t care so much.
She’s interfering with Rinaldo and Lele. That I care about.
I try not to think about it. I try to tell myself it’s ultimately none of my business, but it still nags at me. I need to keep my mind off of the whole thing. I need a distraction. That would be good for me because it keeps me out of my own head, and that’s in everyone’s best interest.
What I really need now is to get laid.
I’m tired, no doubt, but I’m not completely exhausted. The last couple of nights have at least allowed for a few hours of sleep. The nightmares have taken a different tone. I keep dreaming that I’m in a firefight in the jungle, which is new. I can only assume the image comes from seeing the homeless vet on the street. The dreams are still horrific, but at least they’re something different.
Since the night of the bar fight, I haven’t been able to locate Alina. No one will give me any information on her whereabouts, and I’m starting to wonder if she didn’t take a month-long cruise in the Bahamas or something. All right, it hasn’t been a month since she was last in my apartment, but it has been three or four days. I still haven’t fucked her. When she had been there before, I had been content to get some sleep rather than do anything else, but I feel different now.
I want her. I don’t just want a hooker; I want that hooker.
She never even questioned the lack of sex, and I definitely appreciate that about her. I’d caught her eyeing me a bit in the morning when I drove her back to her corner, but she never asked anything. She never even brought up the nightmares again. I know she spent the night holding me until I fell back asleep, surrounded by the scent of lavender, but she didn’t make a fuss about it.
I’m grateful for that.
I cruise up and down the usual streets, looking for the one and only hooker I actually want to fuck, but she’s nowhere to be found. I do find Loretta and eventually get her to come over to the car.
“I ain’t goin’ with you.”
“I’m not asking you to,” I say. “Have you seen Alina?”
“She’s my roommate,” Loretta says. “Of course
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