“If it’s no trouble,” Exit said.
“None, but I’ve been thinking about a few things and wanted to talk before you go. Get some clarity I guess,” Mann told him.
Exit was sitting up and staring at the wall, but listening. Clarity was a rare state for any man. At times, the path seemed clear and the directional arrows were aiming for the straight and narrow. On other days, you woke up with 40 pounds on your chest wondering where the hell you went wrong on life.
“Clarity?”
“Yeah, on Wrong Way. You said she had a husband and son. When did all of that happen?”
“About 12 years ago, at least that’s how old the kid looked,” Exit said. “She never divorced the husband. Glitter Man blinded her, temporarily, I hope, but her husband took her back as if she hadn’t been gone from his life for 10 years.”
“Hey, I’m never one to kiss and tell, but I know why he took her back,” Mann said, stretching his eyes wide. “She is dark. She is crazy, but she knows how to make a man feel as if he’s standing tall.”
“You and Wrong Way? I can’t see that at all,” Exit said.
“I couldn’t either, which is why it never got any heft, but maybe she held back knowing she was already married, and I wasn’t ready to try to help her heal,” Mann added. “It’s the healing part that’s the hardest. Loving is easy, but on the nights when the lights go out in their eyes and you have to bring them back into the now, that’s hard. Her lights went out several times, and it was a struggle. Maybe I wasn’t ready. Maybe I wasn’t the strong man she needed.”
“Or maybe your path was meant for the woman you have, not the one passing through on her way home,” Exit said, wrapping his arms around his knees.
“And the one you have at home?”
“I’m not sure. What my body wants and what my head tells me to do are two different things. I’m mentally at war with myself. I like my quiet life. Get up, go kill a bastard, come home, and rest,” Exit said. “Nice and simple. Now she’s going to want me to talk about my feelings. I feel like having a beer, scratching my nethers, and going to sleep. When I get home, I have to deal with a teenage girl that just found out she’s pretty, which means there will be bees humming around my honey. The 10-year-old has stolen my heart and my wallet, and more than likely I’ll be damned near bankrupt by the time she goes off to college. And the woman...man I like talking to her.”
“About your feelings?” Mann asked, giving a wry smile.
“About any damned thing. At times, it doesn’t seem as if she’s been squirreled away from the world for six years and at other times, it seems as if...I don’t know. You know that light thing you’re talking about.”
“Can you see yourself loving her and giving them all a good life, Mr. Exit?”
“Yes, I can.”
“Then do that,” Mann told him. “Do the one thing that is most unlikely and roll yourself in it, get covered in Pixie Dust or nail polish, and go for it, but more than anything, make one of your own. Raising those two will be amazing. Raising your own is a totally different feel.”
“So, I should go home and put a baby in the woman?”
“If she’s ready for that and if you are.”
“Jeez,” Exit said, throwing back the covers and getting to his feet. “I need a shower and coffee and to hit the road after breakfast.”
“Plus make your reservations at the lodge for Tuesday,” Mann reminded.
“On it,” Exit said, grabbing his overnight bag and heading to the bathroom. “I’m glad we had this talk.”
BREAKFAST WAS A BUSY affair. The Nearys were schedule to come by after breakfast, and Mr. Exit wanted no part of that, so he made a beeline for his shop and got down the mountain. He promised by Tuesday, he would have investment advice for Mann and Yield, and they could take it or leave it.
On his way down the mountain headed toward Atlanta, he passed through the town of Dahlonega, where he spotted a roadside flea market. He didn’t know what made him pull in, but he was happy he did. An hour later, he loaded into the back of his shop a mint green beach cruiser, complete with white wicker basket and handlebar bell, two crates of fresh fruits and veggies, and a set of dolls for Karli.
“What in the hell is wrong with me?” he mumbled, nonetheless happy about the haul in his truck.
A call came in that he wasn’t expecting, and he took it. The unknown number was known to him and it meant there was a job to be done. He felt happy and didn’t want to ruin the buzz by plotting the demise of some sicko who like to play with his dick in an immoral manner. He just didn’t have time for it today.
“Mr. Exit,” he answered.
“Hey, are you anywhere near Georgia?”
“Not really, why?” he asked, lying to the voice on the line.
“Something has just popped up in Atlanta and needs to be handled,” the voice said.
“I need at least a few days to scout out my in, plan for my exit, and get away clean. I don’t do stop and pop. It’s not safe for any of us and without Wrong Way, I really can’t risk it for myself or the company,” he said.
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
The voice growled in the line, “You ain’t going soft on me and looking to get hitched like the other three, are you?”
“There is nothing soft about me, but honestly, having someone to come home to makes a man really think about his actions and not be reckless,” he told the voice. “Wrong Way let her guard down, knowing that fool was on her trail.”
“That fool is keeping himself busy. He just 86ed a man named Kindred in Kentucky, one of them hippie commune types, left pink glitter all over the bastard,” the voice said. “Poisoned him with some tea, Merge style.”
“Is he copying our techniques?”
“Mr. Exit, I’m not sure what the nutty fucker is doing, but you have first right of refusal if the ticket is placed on his head,” the voice said.
“Can’t put a bullet in my nieces’ father unless the transgression is too great. I’ve done him a disservice as is, putting a bullet in him would be... well, the coins I put in the Karma jar will have been wasted,” Exit replied.
“Oh, we’re putting coins in the Karma jar, are we? That’s going to go a long way when you reach the pearly gates and the list is read of the number of lives you’ve taken for pay. The Company has made you a very wealthy man,” the voice said.
“And in return I have done the same for The Company, so please don’t make it seem like you’re doing me any favors,” Exit replied. “I know what I get paid for what I do, and I’m aware that you get a percentage. I’m only one man. You have eight other assassins. A few coins in the Karma jar on your behalf might be worth considering.”
The voice chuckled deeply.
“You’re so full of shit. Whether you’re pulling the trigger for God and country or you’re pulling the trigger for 50 Gs a pop, you’re still pulling the goddamned trigger. You are an assassin, so don’t try to candy coat it as anything else,” the voice said. “When I call and tell you to go kill, that’s what I expect you to fucking do.”