I don't give a shit that they'll kill me. I don't give a shit it'll be a bullet. The funny thing is — I never thought about Madlen as fast as I think about Cesara...77Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSGWtq0ko10
What would I do with two million? Dead or alive? Being dead is simpler: a million and a half in the coffin — buy all the booze in hell, hookers, and turn the cauldron into a jacuzzi. Whose idea was that — we go into worlds we create ourselves? That idiot who writes this crap and thinks he's the author scratching these lines? He stole it from me, that sorry piece of shit!.. Let him know it. The other half million I'll give to Madlen — payback for the years she put up with me.
With being alive, it's trickier... I'd have to organize something, plan. Even if it's just three days — if I have them left. Don't care — I'll spend them with Cesara, blow it all on her. What was wrong with her? She's got problems, that's for sure. I wonder what kind? From the conversation, it's clear it's not Pachèrito. Then who? Not me, I guess. Her sister? That bandana on her head? Madlen's friend wore one just like it when the cancer was terminal. We'll see. Maybe in a week, none of us will give a shit about this bug anymore.
What else? From us and Cesara, Pachèrito gets a beautiful wreath. Oh — and don't forget Pshchedbrzdzhynski: two hundred thousand is his. Screw it — I'll carry two hundred thousand less to the grave. And the two hundred sixteen I owe Worm. Plus change...77Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQDiFkEGcnA
What if it's not three days? Loir was going on about some script they've got that's breaking. A ray of light, he said. That's actually kind of amazing. Too bad I'll never be a shrink — I'd ask him:77Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7VyaWmmhj9
"Would you like to talk about it?.."77Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5jRbuZpamO
Seems like I was the one in his session, not the other way around. Such lightness in my body! First time after a hangover. The next ray will probably be the last. And who cares — whatever's left, it's mine.
Pshchedbrzdzhynski did a solid job in Amsterdam. The old broad with the painting is a front — that's half the battle. The other half is whether Pachèrito knows about it. Let's say he does. So what — he'll walk away from da Vinci? Like hell he will. He won't pull a job there — too expensive, too risky. On his own turf, it's a different story. Most likely, he's working the people now — who's gonna move the painting. That's always the weak link. Armored car guys shoot each other once a month just to get rich — even if it's only for a little while. Or while they're still breathing. For a piece of the da Vinci action, they won't even need to shoot — they'll tear each other's throats out bare‑handed. The trick is finding the right one. That's what Pachèrito's thinking. With that kind of money, every guard in the world becomes the right one — and their trucks'll have blinds instead of doors.77Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSTKpeyDCcm
G‑G's a solid joint, even if the booze is steep. Gotta figure out how to drag Cesara there.
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Half an hour ago, Rosita called. Remember Chicho? The guy I put a round in his knee. Then another eight bodies, dropped like dessert... Yeah, that one. Actually, I didn't shoot him in the knee. The bullet went through his pants leg, way higher. When your balls shrivel up from fear, there's plenty of room between them and the inseam — I put one there, and he pissed himself. Probably as thanks for not ruining his knee — I got no other explanation. What I didn't see coming was that he'd thank me twice. And half an hour ago, I got the second one.
Rosita said Chicho's last words (rest his soul!) were: "Cesara's selling contracts on Carlos. Pass it on." Meaning — pass it to me. That my contracts are being resold. I swear, I liked the guy. Liked him. If I were Pachèrito, I'd have put him down in New Orleans — plenty of niggers there, and they sure can dance at funerals. I can too.
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One‑two‑three‑four... And you start moving. From the hip, from the hip... What was my dance teacher's name? Miss Fichlheim. I adored her! Mostly her body. God made Miss Fichlheim on the second Monday, I swear. He spent six days shaping the earth in a brutal bender, then Sunday he rested in the Caribbean — and Monday, he sculpted Miss Fichlheim. Tuesday he looked at Eve and thought —serves Adam right.
When she hit the floor... God! One‑two‑three‑four... On three — if I'd known how back then — I'd have lost it right there. Then she'd come up to the students. "Paul, you're charming today!" I'd take her waist with my right hand, my left from the elbow into her palm, hips in time, and... Let's go! One‑two‑three‑four... On your toes, Paul! Good. Lead, lead! One‑two‑three‑four...
...one-two-three-four... The tango "Amapola" by Joseph Lacalle. The guy wrote it in '24... Remember "Once Upon a Time in America"? The girl rehearsing in the restaurant storeroom. But where I'm sitting, they've rearranged "Amapola" for accordion and cranked up the tempo. Explosive. Crowds pack the place every Friday just for those three minutes it lasts. The joint's called G‑G. I'm here for the second time in a row, as you might've guessed.
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Sam Lockwood decided to spend the evening on me. The hardest part was getting a table at G‑G. At first, they offered him a spot at the bar, two stools down from me. Sam smirked — take out a mark like that? Too easy.77Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkpbOopfcDY
A similar situation had happened about three years ago. He shot a guy through the bottom of a whiskey glass. The head cracked faster than the glass. Funny. "Lockwood, you sick bastard!" Pachèrito had praised him later.77Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡO0uWuAPmaU
In the end, they gave Sam a corner table, in the shadow of a lamp.
You don't have to be afraid of popping a round in a public place. Nothing scary for someone who's already pulled a trigger. People are curious and cowardly. At first, they don't get it. The brain processes an image in thirteen milliseconds. Meaning — if you're on a cruise ship with your wife and you see your loveheart zeroing in on you — at the fourteenth millisecond, you'd better jump. Otherwise, by the fifteenth, you're a dead.
You know what hits on the fourteenth millisecond when you see someone's brains splatter? Relief. Tough luck for that guy — thank God, not me. And on the fifteenth? Saint Peter, I could be next. Then the chakras open. For most, it's the lower ones — then a freeze: the brain scrambles for a way out. Everyone's different, but on average — two seconds, and the first scream. After that, the crowd panics. They see you, but they're so spooked they won't remember your face. Even if two hours later you're screwing one of them. Happened to Sam too. Still — better to slip out the restroom window and hit fresh air. Step out, take a deep breath, flag a cab... It's already picking up speed when the clowns with the flashing lights come barreling toward you. You feel proud — you gave people work. All night witness statements, tons of clean paper to fill up.
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"Do you dance?"77Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzeCMWsFJSl
Only one woman's got a voice like that. I was sitting on a high bar stool, and she was standing next to me, looking at me. The look I've been waiting for my whole life.77Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfbZnQwlRyu
"Cesara..." — that's all I could get out.
You wouldn't have done any better. My eyes crawled up from the floor. I know — I'm a pig. Arrogant, tactless. The heels, the black stockings... you know, that seam up the back... and the red silk dress... light silk, her knees just peeking out... The Creator made Miss Fichlheim. Cesara was made by the Creator's Creator. And we're going to dance.
She takes my hands... One‑two‑three‑four... From the right hip... Turn... Left leg glides back... Over hers. Straighten up... Her scent — nutmeg — drives me crazy... Hips... in rhythm... God, only a goddess can move like that in heels. One‑two‑three‑four... My hand on her waist — hot... I pull her in... her breathing... How she breathes... One‑two‑three‑four... Nothing gets me harder than her neck. She's about to tilt her head back — I'll sink my teeth in like a vampire. Cesara, you don't stand a chance tonight.
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"This little bastard moves well," Sam says, his eyes glassy, watching us. "Problem is, he moves well not just on the floor — but in life. Hard to track. A pro, goddammit. But even pros slip. If the mountain won't come to Muhammad... How do you build a mountain that stubborn bastard will come to? He's in the game. So when the da Vinci job goes down, he'll be somewhere close. Where? Eight spots to box in the First Security vehicle. Good. Who's he covering? Cesara? The painting? Like hell. This goat doesn't play by the book. He'll come up with a ninth spot. The one nobody's looking at. They'll waste everyone there, and he — in a white suit, stepping over piles of shit — scoops Cesara up, tucks the painting under his arm, jumps business class, and jets off with her to Hawaii. Why won't Carlos let me waste that bitch? Must be her millions... Whatever. I'll take him at whatever spot he comes up with. If Pachèrito's okay with it. And she's good. Good doesn't even cut it."
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"It's lovely here..." Cesara looks around as Amapola fades out.77Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡC8pxzmIBhJ
"Let's go to your place," — I can't help myself.77Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPSuqXZ29eA
And I see a look that needs no answer...77Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhiVnO67Twp
As we head for the exit, Sam pulls out his phone. The only contact under "M" was Mute. He typed a text. Mute was his favorite hooker — because she was mute.
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In the morning, half asleep, I broke a couple of cups in the kitchen. Accidentally — but about eight grand's worth, if she notices. I brought her coffee in the third one. She took a sip, lit a cigarette, and smiled at me:
"You always this serious in the mornings?"
"Word's been going around..."
"Interesting..."77Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvFqL7Lv6p1
"...that you've been shopping contracts around on Pachèrito."77Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡizmBq8Tkps
I thought I had her. Like hell. She smiled again:77Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEW9WzbY634
"Thank God you know."77Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTYmrnJYWHx
"?"77Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRxwqppVNHs
"What's not to get? Better Pachèrito deal with the other contractors than with you. My God, it's so simple. They don't stand a chance."77Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKyOelka4Jm
I realized she was clearing the path for me.77Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiqhSc5hAOj
"Come here..." — Cesara reached out her arms.77Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1ewU2XUpHO
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I'll leave you here — I got a little business with the client...77Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKGjMYaKaRJ
and then Add to home screen.