Guns, Not Roses

~Chapter Seven: Motivation's Such an Aggravation~

Anthony stared at the picture as he lay on his bed, fully clothed.

He couldn't get over the fact that Savannah Ardeur's eyes stared back at him, her trademark look of mischief flickering deep within. And he certainly couldn't get over the fact that she was his next hit.

He was torn. He had never thought twice about who he was paid to kill, but then again, he'd never slept with any of his targets.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and then opened them, surveying his bedroom from his comfortable vantage point. It was a simple room. He liked it that way. The primary theme was black-and-white, but splashes of burgundy-red were present. His king-sized bed was pure white, as were the curtains that covered the large French windows. His plush carpet, couch, and mahogany closet were all pitch-black. This theme was soothing.

But back to the problem at hand: Savannah. Was it really a problem? Did it have to be?

The answer, Anthony knew, was a resounding no.

Pirelli was paying him half a million, which was peanuts to him, if he really thought about it. Everything seemed small to him now. But refusing to kill someone was a sign of weakness. It reflected emotion, feelings - things he had shut off a long time ago. Life was easier if you didn't give a damn.

Right then and there, he made up his mind. He would do it. There was nothing to it. Nothing at all.

*

"You're shitting me! You dumped that chick? Are you crazy?" Calvin Tanner exclaimed, blowing smoke into Anthony's face. Anthony felt like punching his companion in the face. He hated smokers.

"Are we going to talk about something else?" he said evenly, impatiently tapping his fingers on Calvin's large mahogany desk.

Calvin sat back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head. "Chill out, Tony. You gotta relax once in a while. Else you might end up hating yourself," he replied pleasantly.

Anthony kept quiet. He didn't need to be there. But when Calvin Tanner had rang him up that morning, he couldn't say no. After all, Calvin Tanner was a big-time businessman. His business? Drugs, of course.

"I thought you'd settle down with the lovely babe. Maybe even have a few kids, Tony," Tanner continued thoughtfully, now stroking his jowls.

Anthony had made the mistake of mentioning his split from Natalya. Calvin had a way of weeding information out of people, which is why people thought he should've become a cop. Calvin laughed at the idea. Him? A policeman? Talk about a wolf in sheep's clothing!

Anthony shook his head. "I'm not interested in settling down," he told the older man. "Family life isn't for me."

Calvin chuckled. "Pity. My Samantha would've liked you."

Was that what this was all about? Tanner wanted to hook Anthony up with his borderline pug of a daughter? He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Listen, Tony, I know Ruthless has been in touch with you." Tanner's face had suddenly become hard. He leaned forward. "The reason of his visit isn't that hard to figure out. It's common knowledge that there's a power struggle between him and Old Man Ardeur, and - "

Tony's eyes became steely. "Don't talk about my business, Calvin. You're not involved. I respect you. Don't make me angry."

"Fuck that, Tony. I'm tryna help you here!" Tanner spat angrily, thumping his large fist on the desk. "This is big shit. Pirelli's a high-profile character, and Ardeur's just the same. You don't wanna get involved. You wanna get your ass hauled to jail?"

Tony stood up. He'd heard enough. "I wasn't aware you cared so much," he said quietly, adjusting his tie.

Calvin picked up another Cuban cigar and looked up at him. "I don't. I was just hoping to marry Samantha off to you. She can't be with a convict, can she?"

Anthony stared at him for a while and laughed, a strange sound to his own ears. When was the last time he'd heard that sound? Like so many other things, the answer was aeons ago.

"You're a good boy, Tony Dekker, despite your occupation. We all do what we gotta do," Calvin said, lighting up his cigar and putting it to his lips. "One day, though, you'll look back at the trail of bodies you've left and realise you've got nothing. Money means nothing when you got no one to enjoy it with."

Tony replied, "Who said I do this for the money?"