Chapter 4: "Gin and Tonic"
by
Ryan Munevar
“You said 200 Bucks an hour? Right? No dick sucking involved right?”
“Fuck no, this isn’t a profession for fags or Nancy boys. This is a job for men. For killers. Real men. Are you a real man?”
“Hell yes.”
“Goddamned right you are. Know how to make a good G & T?”
“You got Bombay Sapphire?”
“Does the pope fuck children?”
“It’s only tradition.”
“Black cupboard, 3rd, 4th and 5th shelves.”
I opened them up, all of them, and on every single one was 8 bottles 3 deep of Bombay Sapphire Gin. It was at that moment I realized I was in the presence of greatness.
“3 rocks?” I asked.
“You are wise beyond your years.”
I dropped three ice cubes in each glass. Did a fifty/fifty mix of gin and tonic water. Stirred it up with two slices of lime and served.
Orlando took a deep drink with his eyes closed. He exhaled slowly and opened his eyes looking right at me. “Now that was just sexual in nature. Good man! You know how to throw a punch, kung fu, any of that shit?”
“No.”
“Good, that fag shit is for Asians and woman with engorged clitorises from Boston. And on retrospect anyone from Massachusetts. Are you from Massachusetts?”
“No.”
“Don’t you fucking lie to me.”
“Swear to God.”
“Swear to Satan! I have no use for Christians, Catholics or Muslim whores here unless it is to educate them about the beauties of sodomy.”
What the fuck?
“Hail Satan!” I yelled.
“One time I prayed to God for fear chronic masturbation caused me to go blind.”
I blinked.
“Don’t ever let me catch you praying. Praying is to hesitate. It’s to ask, NO!!!” Five maybe six second go by as he looked off towards the distance. “To beg for God to wipe your ass. Fuck him! Fuck him in his dirty cow holes.”
He stood up and pointed a finger at me as he took another slurp off his G & T. “You ever kill anything boy?”
“Couple of ants,”
“Fuck yea, I slept with an aunt once. She seduced me. Never killed her though, I applaud you. How did you do it?”
“Magnifying glass.”
“I don’t know what the hell you are talking about, but you make a damn good G&T. Your fucking hired. Let’s go.”
“Where?”
“Miami”
“When?”
“As soon as you pour us another drink.”
***
We got to the airport right as my car started to stall out. He made me leave it in the towing zone.
“Fuck it,” seemed to be his all purpose piece of philosophy towards the world.
He bought the tickets on Debit card. I hadn’t seen anybody use one of those in a long time.
“Credit cards are for people who think they aren’t already dead. We are samurai’s. Wake up every day knowing you are going to die and you will be free.”
He even had a universal travel weapons permit. The man had 16 G&T’s in him and they were letting him onboard a Scram Jet 69 LAX to Miami with two automatic Gloc 22’s, and 6 armor piercing explosive round clips at 20 rounds a clip. That’s a 120 rounds of fire power onboard a low orbital scram jet going 1200 miles per hour to Miami.
2 Hours later we dropped back into orbit and landed in Miami International.
A Limo greeted us and took us to his office/apartment.
“Don’t ever, under any circumstance flash your worth,”
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