Alliance

The landlord's thoughts were captivated by Charlotte's enchanting smile as he sat there, nursing his drink.

The smile that fooled him and made him unable to see the turbulent path his life was about to take.

She was polite and seemed genuinely interested in renting one apartment in the building.

Over the weeks, as Charlotte settled into her new apartment, she and her landlord struck up a friendly rapport.

They'd often chat in passing, discussing everything from the weather to their dreams and ambitions. It was the kind of connection he, the landlord, hadn't felt in a long time.

But beneath Charlotte's radiant smile and friendly demeanor, something was unsettling about her.

Jimmy, her landlord, couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was an air of mystery that surrounded her.

She spoke very little about herself or her family, always changing the subject when personal matters arose.

He should have seen that as a red flag, but one look at her and his doubts were nonexistent.

Where did she come from?

As time passed, Jimmy's, her landlord, curiosity about Charlotte grew, and so did his unease. She was no longer interested in what they had.

He began to notice strange occurrences around the building—odd noises in the dead of night, a mysterious visitor who would come and go without explanation.

Jealous?

****

The car rolled through the dimly lit streets, the hum of the engine punctuating the silence between Drew and the dirty cop.

Both men remained lost in their thoughts.

After a while, Drew couldn't stand the silence any longer. "You have it? ," his tone was more curious than confrontational.

The dirty cop let out a heavy sigh, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. "Not here," his voice carried a hint of bitterness.

Drew nodded, understanding the desperation the cop had. "Survival," almost to himself.

The cityscape passed by the car's windows like a blur. Drew wondered how many others were out there, just like him and the dirty cop, trying to navigate the shadows of life.

Extending his long fingers to grab the bag, Drew, had a hint of bravery in his voice. "That's what I was talking about."

Confirming a revolver, fully loaded. A private smirk washed his face, a smirk that didn't reach his eyes.

As they reached a secluded alley, Drew glanced at the dirty cop.

"How much?"

The driver, a heavy-shaven dude, extended his hand. "Five grand."

Drew's face turned irritated. "what do you take me for? You want to pull one on me?"

Pulling up in a public garage, the car stopped moving. "You want it or not. It's an unregistered dude. Your shit with it cannot be traced back to you."

Clicking his tongue, "Do you think I would have bought legit shit from you?"

"Two grad bro, that's the best you can get this beauty for. You'll thank me later"

If Drew did what he wanted to do with it, the last person he would want to be seen with was a dirty cop like him.

"That shit goes for like a hundred where I come from. I can get the same shit for free, you know."

Drew is a good bargainer, given time he can get it for a 'thank you'

"Why come to me then?", the driver asked.

"A brother recommended you,", hunting for a possible collaboration. Drew tapped the man's shoulder.

The driver, a dirty cop, was not in a hurry to respond.

"What's this about?", he asked.

Drew brushed off his quest, not willing to share his business with a cop.

"Will I get it for three hundred? Otherwise, I'm not buying shit", he retorted seriously.

"Jesus! ", the driver said, extending his hand.

Drew counted three hundred dollars and passed them to the driver, who confirmed it before starting the engine. " Where should I drop your ass. ", he asked on the way.

" Why the hell are you doing this dirty shit anyway? ", Drew asked dryly, not interested in what he was about to reply.

The silence that followed made sense.

Drew had his reasons, and perhaps the cop was thinking about why he was doing this.

They never shared their reasons; the best way to do that kind of transaction.

****

Outside an apartment building, Drew parked his truck. Taking a cigarette out, he waited patiently, looking both ways at the entrance and the driveway.

Staring at the five-story building in front of him, Drew thought.

'Why the fuck is the guy drinking all night like that with all this wealth?

He should be in one of his cozy rooms smoking weed and thinking about the next month's bills he was about to receive.

Maybe he should plan a vacation to Asia or another exotic destination. Fucking live on the plane.'

His train of thought was broken when a homeless man, Ben, hit his window.

"What?"

He rolled down the window. Ben, bringing his head closer to the window whispered, "Can I get a cigarette man?"

Angry, Drew wanted to curse at him, but instead threw a packet of cigarettes on his face, which fell.

Picking them with gratitude on his face, the homeless man said, "Can I get a lighter too?"

Clicking his tongue, Drew took out the gas lighter he had taken from Matt that night and passed it over to Ben, who was more than thankful.

"What are you doing here?", Ben asked after taking a deep whiff of the cigarette.

Glaring at him, "Get the fuck out of here now." Drew looked at the unmoving Ben in irritation before he started the car and drove away.

" Fuck this!", he retorted.

****

In the dimly lit cellar of the bar's store, Matt, Jimmy, Charlotte's landlord, and Drew sit on beer cans, tension hanging heavy in the air.

Drew, a self-proclaimed group leader, speaks with a stern expression, emphasizing the seriousness.

"Listen here," his eyes narrowed, "this is not the time to make mistakes. If any of you dummies mess up, we'll all end up in jail."

Jimmy, his fear palpable, whispers, "I can't survive jail," beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

"Sure", Drew confirms his face stiff.

Matt paces around, attempting to calm his nerves, but Jimmy's anxiety mounts with every step. He knows the dire consequences of any slip-up.

Desperate for reassurance, Jimmy stammers, "Can I get your number?"

Drew, agitated by Jimmy's hesitance, responds sharply, "We can't leave any trace for the cops to follow us. You're a banker; memorize it if you have to."

Jimmy continues, his voice shaking, "You'll swing by tomorrow, do it, and then…" He knows his role is terrifying but seemingly straightforward–to carry the lifeless body from Charlotte's apartment to the truck in the building's garage.

He's the landlord, that's why Drew tasked him with that.

Looking at Jimmy, Drew wondered why he came to pick them up, especially Jimmy. But, he needs accomplices to keep mouths shut.

Matt's mind drifts back to thoughts of Charlotte and Drew's relationship.

Matt asks, "Did you sleep with her?"

Drew, slightly taken aback, retorts, "Did you?"

Their past with Charlotte is complicated, hanging between them like a shadow.

Matt tries to evade the question, saying, "It's complicated." Drew, with a knowing look, heads towards the exit, saying, "That's what I thought."

The plan Is simple but risky. Drew, armed with the gun and more than happy to be the one doing it, will kill Charlotte, wrap her body in a paper bag.

Jimmy, the landlord, will carry Charlotte's body downstairs to the parking garage and put it in Matt's truck.

Matt will take care of the rest, with a place in mind for the grim aftermath.

After that, they will never meet again.

If any changes, Jimmy will have no body to carry, Matt will take an empty truck and they can rearrange it.