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That’s what this is about? He should know better. He started as a button man, or so I’ve heard. He seems to have turned out all right.”
    I decided to take a different tack and be direct.
    “True, but to Sid it was a job. A means to an end. When he got the chance to move up and really start earning, he left the gun behind.”
    “And? Your point is what?” Clark asked. “You looking to promote me?”
    “My point is that Sid thinks you would probably give up that chance if it was offered. That you like this too much.”
    “Sure, I enjoy it. What’s wrong with liking your work? Hell, if everyone could do what they liked, the world would be a better place, would it not? Of course, we’d probably be out of business, because people wouldn’t feel the need to drink, or drug, or whore or gamble if they had nothing in their regular nine-to-five to escape from. If they loved their work, they’d all come home and grill a burger, play with the kids, bang the wife and go to bed content every night. Better for us, I suppose, that I’m in the minority.”
    “I suppose,” I said. “That’s a rather vocal minority, from what I hear.”
    “Oh, so that’s the deal, huh? Sid’s worried that I talk too much? Look, it’s to his benefit,” Clark said. When I come around, people know that it’s serious. I bet some people would toe the line just because they see me walking by their front window. He should thank me.”
    This was getting away from me again. It was clear that Sid’s concerns were well founded, and that I was going to have to do more than talk.
    “I hadn’t thought about it that way,” I said. “You’re like a walking billboard, huh? Good thing for us you don’t charge us extra for marketing.”
    He finished his drink. “You bein’ a wiseass?”
    “No,” I said. “Look, you know Sid. He likes to worry. That’s what got him to where he is, and it’ll probably be what keeps him there for a while.”
    “Good point,” he said, stubbing out the butt of his cigarette. “So, is that it? Any more questions?”
    I had to lean in to hear him as another train began to rumble by.
    “I think that’s it,” I said, raising my voice a bit. “Like I said, Sid just wants a status report from the guys, to see how things are going.” I got up and he followed, pulling his jacket from the chair back and throwing it over his shoulder. “You park out front or back?”
    “I’m out back,” he said.
    “I’ll walk out with you. Got a couple more guys to see tonight,” I said. I slid my money clip from my front pocket, peeled off a twenty and tossed it on the table.
    When we had cleared the door and started walking out among the cars, I reached under my jacket, pulled a pistol out of its holster and planted two slugs in his back. He dropped to the ground between two vehicles. I rifled through his pockets, pulled out his wallet and emptied it, hoping the cops would think it was a robbery, then kicked his limp body under an SUV and turned to walk back inside. On my way, I wiped down the pistol and flung it into the back seat of a car with its windows down.
    I had thought about telling Clark what an idiot he had been, that he had brought this on himself. But this was my first time, and I knew the quicker I did this, the better it would be. Clark wasn’t interested in moving up in the organization, but I was. Managers make good bread; hitmen make more.
    I went back into the Sun, the sound of the train fading as the door shut behind me, headed to the payphone and dialed.
    “Hey, ma. It’s me,” I said. “No, there’s nothing wrong. Just wanted to know how things are going.”
     
     
     
     

 
    Not so Calm, Not so Bright
     
    I dragged the tree across the yard and up the steps, careful not to slip in the darkness. As I shouldered the door open and pulled it inside, I vowed that Tommy was going to have a good Christmas.
    Now mind you, the bar is pretty low. The kid is seven, and Christmas has been more about