A Sounding Business Model

When she closed her eyes, pictures would come to Shelly. The lights would turn shades of pink and vibrant purple. Then they’d turn to people, sometimes they danced, sometimes they played soccer. She couldn’t watch them for long, a thud brought her back to the crowded night club. It was quickly emptying in a loud panic.

Shelly wanted to panic but she wasn’t allowed. She could smell the powder on her hands and she could see the smoke escaping from her pistol. The man in the cheap suit was dead and on the ground. This one was easy, a lot easier than the old woman. She allowed the gun to drop and was swept up into the very crowd that feared her. The tide took her to the alley next to the garbage where Vinnie awaited, pleased.

Slowly she pulled the vinyl gloves from her hands and walked away. Vinnie followed in that giddy step he had wherever there was murder. He found vicarious pleasure in these excursions.

“All this so we can mark up the prices on beer?”

“No one ever talks about the darkside of mixology.”

Vinnie smiled wryly and Shelly couldn’t help but laugh.

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