An offer you can't refuse

Maybe because of the incident with Mr.Camorra in the alley, but for some reason my shift seemed to end quicker than it usually did. It might sound childish for a grown man to be excited about receiving a present from his boss, but getting a gift for the first time in over a decade, might have resonated with the kid inside of me.

The usually annoying responsibilities like handling too intoxicated boyfriends that tried to prove themself so that they could get laid, or the too touchy-feely couples that made me want to puke, seemingly were less of a headache. But I still preferred my piece and quiet, but that was a rare commodity I was too poor to afford.

When I saw that my knock-off Rolex showed that it was time for closing, I started to herd the men and women of questionable age towards the exit. It was an attempt to clear the facility faster so that I could finish my shift earlier than expected. I was still thinking about the thing waiting for me in Mr.Camorra's office, and for somewhat reason I was excited.

With the final cab leaving with the last of my "guests", I could finally breathe out. It is a pain to handle people that have had a drink too many, but it payed the bills so I could not complain more than sighing when they finally left. Further thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of a familiar hand on my back. A mellowed "Mr.Camorra" escaped my lips as I turned around to face the man that paid me.

Still short as always, I had to almost make an effort to not look disrespectful as I gazed down to look the man in his eyes. The gesture was well-received as usual.

" Still ugly as always Jack. " He smirked, he was continuing the farce we had going before in the alley.

" I was born with this face sir, I can do nothing about it. "

Having to play the role of the submissive party in this play might seem weird for a man a foot taller than the other party, but I was not in the position of changing the roles without a devastating result.

" Still as good with the words I see. Well let's wrap this up and take the conversation to my office. I have something waiting for you, as promised. "

I followed the man that had started to turn grey at the temples over the still lit dance floor and towards the back of the bar. It led to a spotless white kitchen, and he smiled and waved to the kitchen personnel that was washing the result of today's business as we walked towards the door at the end of the kitchen. It was a seemingly a normal gesture for a person in charge, but this man never did something ordinary without a motive. When we had walked through the kitchen doors and into his office, my thoughts were confirmed rather quickly.

" You have to make them feel appreciated Jack, otherwise they can start having thoughts about betraying you. And you do know that I hate being betrayed. "

His words made me flinch. The small back facing towards me looked harmless, but I knew he could make my life almost a living hell if he wanted to. He was not the amiable man he appeared to be.

I did not answer, and hoped that it was a rhetorical question.

The short-statured man almost disappeared behind the considerably sized oak desk. He had put the desk on a small wooden plateau to shorten the disparity in height between him and the person sitting in front of him. He liked to be in the position of power, and his length did not help him achieving that. The grand oil painting hanging behind him, depicting himself in a stellar manner, probably was supposed to have the same power-enhancing effect.

He coughed, silently hinting me to sit down in the custom-made chairs, that was supposed to make the person sitting in it become even shorter. What a sickening Napoleon complex this man had. It was so obvious for the observer that I would have laughed if he was not my boss.

I sat down, and even though I stand a feet taller than him normally, our eyes were now leveled.

He smirked in response, clearly liking that he was the same height as me now.

Not wanting to prolong this farce longer than necessary, I went straight for the point.

" So what was it that you wanted me to have, sir? "

He did not answer directly, but instead opened up the top drawer on his right-hand side. He removed a container and two glasses, poured the content of the container in the two glasses before passing me my one of them. I could not decline his offer, it would have been a sign of disrespect. So I took my glass, but I did not start drinking.

He did not care, and drank the content of the glass all at once. He looked up from his now empty glass and started to look at me complacently. What now I thought for myself.

" You have done good for yourself here the last couple of months. Never arriving late to work, never inviting trouble to my establishment. Not a single problem. " Putting emphasis on the last part of his sentence.

He gave me a familiar feeling that I had almost forgotten: an employer offering his employee something that he could not refuse. Remembering the familiar feeling from the military days, I was left with a bad taste in my mouth. Realising that nothing good was expected to come out of this conversation any more, I started to think up ways to decline his offer without losing my job.

But every possible scenario I thought up in the short amount of time I had, only left me without any answers. Resigning myself to fate, I sighed inwardly and accepted the fact that I was not getting out of this situation scot-free. So with an effort, I tried to keep up the appearance of the model employee I had gotten the reputation for being.

I averted my eyes towards his, as they had uncionously been observing the room instead of keeping eye contact when he had spoken.

" Well thank you sir, but I was just doing my duty to the best of my capabilities."

His gaze was still the same, not showing any sign of wavering the slightest from what was inevitably yet to come.

I started to half-panic inside, as I more and more realised what a bad situation I was in. I was either leaving this room rolled up in that black wool carpet covering the floor, or without the last piece of humanity I had left inside of me.

Forcing down the gastric acid I felt coming up in my throat, I tried my best to look calm on the outside whilst I was really having a panic attack on the inside.

He noticed me turning pale, and gave a gesture that I should probably drink some of that fluid I had in the glass firmly clutched in my right hand. Trying to not spill the content, whilst still putting it towards my lips, I started to think what fussy I had become during the year I had left the military.

What had happened to the ice cold killer I had been during those three years in special forces, what kind of man had I become during my one year of travelling. It was laughable. I was laughable. Feeling the icy alcoholic beverage flowing down my throat towards my stomach, I calmed my nerves and I felt the "normal" me returning.

My face had probably gained a few colours, because Mr. Camorra was not waiting any longer.

" I looked you up Jack. Dad left you when you were three, mom then died on you at ten, only for you to join the the military at the tender age of 16. Two years- and one tour later you got promoted to lieutenant, but instead of going the command route you went to special forces for three years before finally getting discharged on unmentioned basis one year ago. A quite impressive life for a 22 year old, wouldn't you say Jack? "

I was not dumb enough to think that he would not do a background check on a sketchy person like me, but that he would be so thorough in his investigation was beyond what I had previously predicted. I had guessed when I met him for the first time that he had ties to organized crimes, but he never gave me grounds to confirm that suspicion during the three months I had worked for him.

That was before this conversation. No one with just "ordinary" means was able to get a hold of my papers, so his influence reached further than I had previously thought. The mob was my final guess, and he was pretty far up the ladder as well. My usual luck of getting myself in trouble without realising it.

" I wouldn't say it is "that" impressive, sir. I just tried my best to survive everyday as it arrived. Nothing else, nothing more. sir. " I replied whilst putting my hands up in a " what can you do" kind of motion.

He smiles and shakes his head " Still modest as always Jack, still modest as always. Well I think we have finished the pleasantries now. So let's get down to business, shall we? "

My muscles tensed as he finished his last sentence. But I was resolute of getting out of this room alive today, so I prepared myself for the worst.

He bent his head and back down below his oak desk, and reached for whatever thing he had placed down there before we had come into his office. I prepared myself for him pulling a gun on me, even though it was unrealistic as of now. With my hand clenching the cold metal strapped to my right hip, he finally pulled up something that looked like a box. Realising my mistake, I played it off like I swatted some dust off my jacket.

He smiled as he came up with the cardboard box. " You don't have to be so tense Jack, you gotta chill sometimes. "

Feeling embarrassed for him noticing that I reached for my gun, I nodded modestly and leaned back in my chair: " Yes, I will take that into consideration sir. "

Nodding his head in confirming fashion: " I want you to do something for me, and in exchange I will let you know about your mother's murder. "

I shook, and tensed up again: " My mother's murder sir, you must be jesting. My mother died from overworking herself when she tried to sustain a family of two. To call that murder would be taking it a tad far, wouldn't it? "

He did not flinch, and kept his stern manner.

He took down a folder from one of the neat little piles he had stacked on his desk, and handed it to me: " Look at these papers and tell me that I'm wrong. "

I gazed down at the papers in my hand. It was a murder book, detailing the events leading up to the death of my mother. Why would he have this, and why did this even exist? My mother died of overworking, didn't she? Or was that the truth I had accepted when the police officer had turned up at my doorstep that night?

Confused with the this new information, I looked up: " Can these be trusted? "

He nodded solemnly: " Look at the last page, down in the right corner. "

I turned to last page, and looked where I was told. It was the seal of the DoD, Department of Defence. It only raised more questions.

" Why would the DoD have a murder book on my mothers alleged murder? "

Instead of answering my question he just pulled the papers out of my hand, and gave me the same stern look as before: " That's for another time, let's talk about your part in all of this. I will provide you with the information that you want about the murder of your mother, and even why the DoD are the one's handling it and all other questions you might have. But before that, you have to do something for me. "

I clenched my fist so hard that the veins on the back of my hand started to throb: " What is it? "

He smiles: " You just have to kill somebody for me, a special kind of somebody. "

Chapter two - Fin