Happy hour

I always enjoy the free booze during the complementary happy hour at Embassy Suites in Glendale California. This evening I’m checking out an alluring woman seated, facing me, at another table with some guy. This thirty something siren is wearing a burnt orange tie-dye top with a giant peace sign emblazoned in a woodsy contrasting dark earthy colour. Her warm face reveals her European and Asian ancestry.

Tie-dye lady makes direct eye contact with me, instantly I read the longing in her eyes for a real man. Obviously, she is tired of the gym-rat she is drinking with and looking for a man with more substance, a man like me. The gym-rat looks like he can handle himself but I think I could take him if I needed to; I still have a few tricks up my sleeve. Their drink glass’ are nearly empty; I’ll make my move when he gets up for another round.

He rises. Red alert, red alert! As he stands, I catch a glimpse of the Thai-American gang affiliation tattooed on his inner thigh, just above the knee. I don’t know why I was looking there, but thankfully I was. With any luck, he hasn’t spotted me. I’ve had a few run-ins with them over the years and they are never pleasant. I also spot the substantial rock on her finger. In an instantaneous life over certain death decision, I choose not to pursue the woman. I’m not willing to chance provoking the ire of that organisation and the agonising consequences that would ensue.


About HybridHitman

Contract killer for hire.
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