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My phone rings.
I grab for it.
It’s Tony.
My stomach sinks a little then. I wonder if this person who emailed me has emailed Tony too.
“Tony, talk to me,” I say.
“Cutter! Where the hell have you been?”
“In bed. Sleeping.”
“Oh. Right. Busy night? Staying out of trouble?”
“Tony, you got me a ride back to the house. I went to sleep. Is something going on?”
“No. Nothing. I’m just checking on my favorite client.”
“Your favorite source of income.”
“Remember when I wanted to call you Cutter Cash or something like that?”
“I remember. I should have fired you right then and there.”
“Bet you’re glad you didn’t. You wouldn’t have gotten the contract I got you. Right, Cutter?”
“If you want to make yourself useful right now, Tony, send over some food.”
“I can do that for you,” Tony says. “I bet I can even do you one better than that.”
“Oh?”
The doorbell to the house rings.
It’s loud. Obnoxious. Plays a few notes.
“I have to go,” I say and hang up on Tony.
I throw the covers off my body and climb out of bed wearing nothing but shorts.
The doorbell keeps ringing now.
Every time it stops, it starts right back up.
“What the hell…” I whisper to myself.
I think about that text. The email.
The blackmail.
I’ll be in touch soon… we can talk about money…
Now I’m racing down the stairs, two at a time. In my mind, the person who is blackmailing me will be at the door. It’ll be some punk twenty-something-year-old looking to make a quick buck. And I’ll punch every damn tooth in their mouth down their damn throat so they can shit out a smile tomorrow.
I rip the front door open.
And there’s a gun pointed at me.
