A Few Days After

“I thought you hated places like this.”

“I do, but I don’t really have a choice, do I?” Chenille, arm in a sling, sips her coffee and glances around the big-box coffee shop. “Don’t worry, though, this place won’t be standing very much longer.”

I lean back in my chair. “Just do me a favor and promise me that, when the revolution does come, you’ll allow smoking in coffeehouses again.” I could really go for a cigarette right about now. It’s too bad that everyplace in the world has banned smoking. Apparently, places like this can only allow one addictive substance on the premises at a time. I suppose I can fight the urge to smoke for a few more minutes. “What happened to the Triad of Vengeance, anyway?”

Chenille shrugs. “To be perfectly honest, I don’t really know. After I got shot, everything was a blur. All I know is that, when we went back in, after all was said and done, the Asian and Veronica were nowhere to be found. Granted, I didn’t check all of the bodies. . . .”

“I did,” I tell her. “They weren’t there.”

“Ah, you always did have a knack for the macabre.” Chenille glances at her watch. “Shit. I gotta get a move on.” She slams the remainder of her coffee, stands up, and tosses the cup into a nearby garbage can. I grab her bag and away we go.

“Let me know if you hear anything about them,” she tells me as she adjusts her sling. I nod.

“I will.”

I help Chenille situate her bag on her good shoulder. “If I had known how heavy this damned thing was, I would’ve never offered to carry it. I thought you traveled light, sis. What the hell do you have in there?”

“Only the bare essentials.”

“My ass.” I check the terminal, waiting to see if someone’s tailing me. No one’s there. That’s a relief. I check my watch. Chenille’s plane should start boarding in about fifteen minutes. “Seriously, sis, I wish you would move back here,” I tell her. She gives me a one-armed hug.

“We’ll see,” she replies. “I have a couple of jobs that I have to take care of back home. Then, maybe I’ll consider it.” She moves off toward her plane.

“Stay out of trouble,” I call after her.

“Lay off the cigarettes.” With a small wave, she disappears around the corner and she’s on her way back to New York. I walk to the parking lot, pausing briefly to light up as soon as I reach the outside world. I’m glad that things can finally return to some semblance of order. It’ll be nice to get back to being the one doing the killing. I walk toward my car, pulling my keys out. No more having to look over my shoulder everywhere I go. No more having to do other people’s dirty work for no pay. No more random attacks. No more mint green envelopes.

Aside from the one sitting on the driver’s seat of my car.

I stare down at the envelope. The bottom is slowly dropping out of my previous thought process. What the hell is this one going to be? Levi, my sister’s been nabbed again? Levi, the Asian has me held hostage? Levi, my shoes are the wrong size? Levi, my kitten is stuck in a fucking tree? I should just light it on fire and pretend I didn’t even see it.

Instead, I tear it open and read the single line of cursive writing:

Levi, Thank you for your help.

Thank God.