“I came for a fish. I’m walking out with a cat.”
His deadpan delivery told me everything I needed to know about his feelings on the matter.
“But she’s so cuuuuuuuuute,” his girlfriend cooed. I mean, I assume she was his girlfriend. If not, she sure as shit wanted to be, hanging all over him like an ill-fitting jacket, all sleeves and loose fabric with no form of its own.
She was right, though. The kitten was cute. I hated to see it going out the door with these two. But that’s the job. Well, the volunteer job. It’s not like the shelter can afford to pay me. I’m just here because I like cats and tolerate dogs.
I could do without the people who adopt them.
These two were extra special. We don’t even have fish. They thought we were some kind of discount pet store.
“Is there anything we need to know about it?” he asked.
I raised an eyebrow.
“Like, what does it eat? What else do we need to get?”
I pursed my lips.
“Right. Well, she’s a kitten, so it would be best to feed her kitten food. You’ll also need a litter box and some litter. You can pick up all that stuff at Walmart. While you’re there, I’d suggest getting a few cheap toys. Cats can be picky, so there’s no way to know what kind of toys she’ll like. If you get a selection, you’ll be able to tell what she finds enriching.”
The expression on his face made it clear “enriching” was testing his vocabulary.
“What she likes,” I clarified.
“That sounds like a lot,” he said. His girlfriend was absorbed with the kitten and oblivious to these practical matters.
“She’s a living being,” I said. “You’re responsible for keeping her alive and making sure she’s happy.”
I’ll admit it. I was hoping to overwhelm him to the point that he backed out. But I don’t think my assessment prompted as much introspection as I’d hoped. He just shrugged and said, “Okay.”
Twenty minutes later, they had completed the paperwork and were on the way out the door with an adorable kitten who almost certainly deserved better adoptive parents. They passed a slender, stylishly dressed man on their way out. He navigated around them with grace and a slight sneer.
When the door was closed and we were alone, I said, “Hello, Simon.”
“I can’t imagine what you get out of volunteering at this … place,” he said.
“I like cats,” I said. “They’re natural predators. Also, they’re cute.”
“Mmmm,” he said, unimpressed. “But you have to deal with people. People are nothing like cats.”
He had a point.
“Well, that’s good practice, isn’t it? I mean, sometimes I have to be charming on a job. I’m not as established as you. I can’t afford to be a raving dick all the time and get away with it.”
“Fair,” he said. I don’t think the insult even registered with him. My kind of psychopath. “Leslie has a job for you.”
“Leslie has my number. Why didn’t she just text?”
Simon made a face. He was looking at the countertop where the kitten had been frolicking minutes ago. I imagined he was disgusted by the idea of kitten paws, fresh from a shit-infested litter box, all over a countertop meant for human use. Even in an animal shelter, he must have thought it thoroughly inappropriate.
I grabbed disinfectant and a rag from below the counter.
“This one is different,” he said. “High-end. And considerably more dangerous than your previous marks. She wants me to work with you—partly to make sure it’s done right and partly to make sure you’re safe.”
The last bit surprised me. Neither Leslie nor Simon were particularly sentimental. Granted, I was his one and only protege. But if I bit it on a job, he’d just move on. No skin off his teeth. Besides, his involvement probably meant he’d take a cut of the payout.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “You get the full payment.”
That made me truly suspicious.
“Then why are you helping, Simon? You don’t do anything unless you benefit from it.”
“Oh, I benefit from this,” he said. “The mark is merely the first for a potentially lucrative corporate client. An emerging AI firm. If this job goes well, there will be many, many more. And they’re prepared to pay handsomely. I will have first right of refusal on any future jobs from this client. If I don’t want one or there are double bookings, you’ll be the second choice.”
I finished wiping down the counter and put the cleaning supplies away. He still avoided any kind of contact, lest he defile his perfect manicure.
“Then why not take this job, yourself?”
He sighed.
“It’s a honeypot,” he said.
“Ah,” I said. “And you aren’t … appropriately equipped … to lure the mark?”
“There’s no accounting for bad taste,” he said.
This is the kind of break I’d been waiting for. A big kill. Something to really put me on the map. I had no shortage of jobs, but they were all small-time. Mob hits, shit like that. They paid well, but nothing like what Simon’s average contract goes for. This could vault me into six figures per job.
But something felt off about it. And Simon could tell. He knew me well.
“You’re right to hesitate,” he said. “It’s messy, this one. But I have a vested interest in seeing it done right, and that means ensuring you’re neither compromised nor killed.”
My eyes narrowed. “You don’t do partners,” I said.
He shrugged. “Consider this an exception.”
Holy shit. The opportunity had to be fucking huge.
“Okay,” I said. “I’m in.”
“Good,” he said. “Meet Margaret tomorrow at The Downs. Noon, sharp. The Downs has a dress code, even for lunch.”
“Why am I meeting Margaret?” I asked.
“Because you’ll likely need help looking the part. It’s time to up your game, Mary.” With that, he turned and left. No goodbye. No indication of when I’d see him next.
So very Simon.
But, whatever. That was fine. I was more than used to it. And I kind of wanted some time to myself, anyway. It gave me a chance to process the opportunity. This could make my whole career. With this kill, I could start naming my price instead of taking the crumbs Leslie’s other pros didn’t care for.
But first, I’d have to get through lunch with Margaret. Killing the mark would probably be easier.