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I slowly pulled up to the old Iranian cafe; it was a nice place, classy hole in the wall and old man Bassam was a good guy. Knew how to make real coffee, his son would cook the pastries, help with inventory and this and that, a nice family business of Iranian coyotes. A fat man, always dressed in lounge shirts with designs of the 50s, slacks, no jeans or simple pants, silver jewelry, a warm smile and gentle eyes. His son a skinny high schooler at first sight, if you asked, you'd know he was already a college graduate working as an electric technician, working on computer sciences. Dressed more casually, whatever t shirt or jeans on him, but always wore a pair of signature sneakers on him, low tops all stars, Chuck Taylor, white on top and aqua color soles.

Use to make me smile now and again, no matter of a kid's upbringing, they all like a nice pair a shoes. I stepped out of my Lincoln, a brown MKS, patted the front of my suit, straightening myself out some as I walked in. "Cesar, whatsup boss? Need a coffee? Azad made baklava, fresh." The coyote put his hand out and I quickly shook it, nodded at his head and said. "Nah, trying to lay off it for a while... On too many things as it is. Baklava and a snapple would be good though. The take was good this week? Big match up with Packy and Mayweather." I spoke quietly since there was another man there, a weasel sitting at a table, drink a coffee, tea, something and reading from a small book.

The coyote nodded, shouted to the back room for Azad and excused himself to go into the backroom. Azad came to the front, skinny, thick glasses, a t shirt with ECKO designs, jeans and his signature sneakers. He gave a small smile as he served and spoke sparingly about his life and what was going on his end today. There was a ring and a rabbit girl dressed in a blouse and pants, sat with the man that was drinking his beverage, they spoke lowly, but I could hear them. The gist was blackmail, an unfaithful wife being asked to give pussy and money to bury the secret, her voice was fearful and his smug. It all left a bad taste in my mouth, couldn't finish my food or drink and made me felt uneasy.

I felt strange as I waited until Bassam came out with the envelope, The more those people talked the more concentrate I was on them than Azad's attempts to strike up a conversation, I didn't notice Bassam until he put his hand on my arm and I jumped abit coming back to reality. "Are you ok? It wasn't the food was it? You've had the baklava before, no?" He asked, offering the envelope as he questioned my condition.

"Wha? Nah, no I'm fine, just my mind is elsewhere. Took away my appetite, Bas. Thank you, I apologize for not finishing the plate, always rude to throw away perfectly good food." I explained myself as I took the envelope and weighed it in my hand, definitely heftier than usual. "Hehe, very good week for your then, yeah?" Bassam smiled and said there was no need to apologize and that life and business was good and getting better; we spoke very briefly, I kept having to ask now and again what he had said. Every time I heard the woman and the blackmailer speak, the back of my head was grating and their voices amplified. So many years of being a punk, then a hood, and a gangster and some cunt that couldn't keep her legs shut being forced by a bystander to pay for silence was stirring my stomach and making itself loud in the back of my mind.

We awkwardly exchanged goodbyes and I pocketed the envelope my suit's pocket, thanking him again and walking out. Catching a glimpse at them, they didn't notice me, I saw their faces and it made me more uncomfortable. I couldn't shake the feeling, nagging feeling in the back of my mind, how they made me feel so disgusted, anxious and uncomfortable. It was strange I couldn't think of anything else, I got in my car and started breathing slow and deep. I took off my glasses and rubbed my eyes; lit a cigarette and started smoking trying to calm myself down and all I was feeling. Half way through the cigarette, I was more anxious, angry and amped, I ended up flicking it out of the window and hitting the steering wheel.

I got out of the car, slamming the door harder, I felt... Half conscious as I moved. I opened the door and pulled out my modernized LeMat, pulling back the hammer and readying it, the two jumped and Bassam and Azad both stared as I raised up my gun and shot the weasel four times in the chest, then once in the neck, he jerked back and fell to the ground after that. The woman start screaming, yelling, putting her arms over her head crying; Azad and Bassam were hiding behind the counter. I lowered my arm, that's when the woman calmed down, breathing more calmly, I stared down at her, I was still disgusted, she began to start thanking me. I moved my arm quickly and shot her in the stomach, she was surprised and frozen still by it, her arms wrapped around her stomach and then I moved my arm higher and shot her in the head, it split her forehead in half and she fell to her side.

I felt better at the ridiculously violently thing I had done on the drop of the dime, how a unfaithful wife and blackmailer pushed me over the edge unintentionally, how a person like me couldn't stand something that had nothing to do with me not something that I had experience. I shot the last bullet into her head again, making an even worse mess of it, then I holstered the gun and walked out quickly, early morning, no people walking around yet and traffic slowly moving out for people to get out to work. Not witnesses basically for this fit of violence, Bassam and his boy knew who I was and who I worked for and would spin a story, I drove off fast, cleared three blocks before I slowly down and joined traffic properly. I felt serene and unmolested by the thoughts of those people after words, I wasn't even disturbed by how I done all that so coldly and cathartically, how is washed myself and the world of those people. What was wrong with me? As I drove I was green lit all the way to my next stop, picking up a clean pair of clothes at a bought business, a dry clean place that I always kept a stash of clean fibers at. This wasn't how I planned the morning in anyway, simple collections, what the fucking hell was wrong with me. Two little girls at home and I'm playing street avenger in the middle of a collection run.