There was just no better feeling than pleasing the boss.
Chapter 6 – Brief Surrender
New Year’s Eve.
Every year I was invited to Rinaldo Moretti’s house to celebrate the coming of a new year, and every year I went. Each party was exactly like the previous year’s with only the dates on people’s paper hats changing. I clanged champagne glasses with Rinaldo at midnight, kissed Mrs. Moretti on the cheek, and put up with a bunch of assholes patting me on the back and telling me how promising the next year was going to be.
Whatever.
At exactly one in the morning, I felt I had paid my due respects and had the valet bring my car to me. He dropped the keys to the Mazda in my hand with a look of distaste, but I only took the convertible out in nice weather. Apparently a forty-thousand-dollar car wasn’t up to his usual standards, so I didn’t bother to tip the asshole.
The Audi convertible I had was actually acquired without cost to me since I kept it after killing its original owner. I never would have spent that much money on a car. I was a relatively frugal guy, and tended to keep my money liquid and close to me. At some point the winds could change, and having a good escape plan involved a decent amount of cash. Why waste it when the public transportation was so close to my apartment? I liked taking the bus most of the time, anyway – it was always good for people watching.
The ride home brought me within a couple of blocks of where I figured Bridgett would be. I had almost considered giving her up as some kind of New Year’s resolution – I was starting to feel dependent on her. If I was in town on the weekend, I almost always had her over for a night.
Sometimes two.
It didn’t exactly fit my miserly nature, but I needed the release and the sleep. More and more often, I was finding myself unable to think as clearly as I normally did, and it worried me more than I cared to admit. My sessions with Bridgett were more expensive than going to see Mark the Shrink, but they kept me going, and I had a lot to get done. Talking to him left me cold inside – Bridgett was warm.
I had seen Mark Duncan again the other day.
“How do you think your experiences changed you?”
“They didn’t.”
“Evan, no one comes out of something like that without some damage.”
“Not a mark on me – they were really careful about that.”
“There are other kinds of scars.”
I blinked a few times to bring myself back to the present.
After a bit of internal debate regarding resolutions and finances, I finally came to a conclusion. I had no actual target to go after for the evening, and I decided New Year’s Eve was really a crappy night to start resolutions after all.
The light changed to green, and I looked behind my shoulder before I quickly changed lanes and headed in the opposite direction from my apartment. There were nothing but drunks, cops, and me out on the road, so I drove with caution over to the red light district and the street corner by the drug store where Bridgett’s pimp could usually be found.
Two minutes later, Bridgett was in the passenger seat, and I was driving us back to my apartment.
“Happy New Year,” she said with a smile.
“Nice outfit,” I commented back.
Bridgett looked down at her dress, if you could call it that. It showed the top of her nipples, with her tits outlined in red sequins. Happy New Year was scrawled in blue sequins across her bare belly.
“You like it?” she asked with another big smile.
“It’s atrocious,” I replied honestly, “and you look like you’re freezing.”
“I am,” she admitted.
I cranked up the heat.
“You’re all decked out,” she said as she reached up and ran her fingers over the edge of the bowtie. “A tux? You been out partying?”
“I guess,” I said. “I was at a party, anyway.”
“You aren’t much of a partier, are you?”