Sex, Lies
and Celluloid
by Chris Owen and Jodi Payne
Snapshot
I took another look at the picture in my hand and then at the
tags on the black Lexus RX 350 and nodded, satisfied. This was
the guy, and his car, too. Nice SUV. No wonder the wife didn't
want to lose him. Though with looks like his I suspected she
wanted him as more than just a meal ticket.
My truck was parked down the block where it wouldn't be seen,
and I was hiding myself behind the low fence that lined the
dark lot on the west side of the park. I'd staked out this same
park on another job a couple of years ago and the vivid memory
of standing in the rain for four hours on a chilly October night
made me shiver. This time the sky was clear and I could even
see some stars through the bounce of light off the city streets.
Thank God for that, anyway.
Apparently the drug dealer that my surveillance target was waiting
for had decided to be fashionably late. I'd been sitting there
watching the SUV for nearly twenty minutes and all was quiet.
Inside the SUV there was nothing but stillness, the mark not
even twitching or looking around. His radio was off, and there
weren't any interesting sounds that I was able to pick up, despite
the sensitivity of my electronic scope. For a little handheld
thing the instrument picked up amazing quality.
Usually, anyway. At that moment, all I could hear was breathing
and a snatch of humming. Apparently my mark liked Matchbox 20.
I was just about to shift my weight and lean on the fence when
a body separated itself from the shadows and approached the
SUV, walking in a straight line for the passenger side. Oddly,
the target got out of the car before the new man could reach
the vehicle and then got in the back. The newcomer did the same,
without a word. Just got in the back and the two of them sat
there.
"Daniel?"
"Yes," the man I'd been watching said, which fit the
information in my file, but it seemed odd to me that he was
using his real name. "And you're going by 'Jim'?"
"It's my name," Jim said, laughing. "But I don't
care if you believe me."
Daniel snorted and laughed, too. "It hardly matters. So,
we're still on for what we talked about earlier?"
"Hell, yes," Jim said emphatically, and I could hear
the way he was moving on the leather seat, his jeans sliding
and shifting. "Come here."
Daniel didn't say anything, but there were more sliding sounds
and then a low moan.
I listened to the sounds they made together and it didn't take
me long to determine exactly what was going on.
This was no drug deal. Unless one considered cock a controlled
substance.
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