Continued from Friday's post
Turns out that you don't find out about a price on your head from faded posters nailed to sides of buildings. You find out from near-strangers. "Did you know that some guy is offering 30 grand to kill you?" It's quite the conversation-starter. Of course, that level of publicity pretty much guarantees it's bullshit, but still. When your execution for hire keeps coming up in casual conversation, it does get your attention.
I called an old friend and told him what was going on. The friend's not a criminal, but he certainly knows his share. "If anything happens to me..."
"It's taken care of. Don't worry."
"OK. Here's a map to his house."
Eve, meanwhile, was deliriously happy with the new guy. I was appalled at our relative lots in life. "How come he gets laid and I get the death threats?"
Jim soon quit his programming job and made a complete career change to being a writer in my division. He started dating my second-best friend, the person in whom I'd confided much about about him, Eve, and death threats. I was seriously angry. Within five minutes of her telling me she was dating him, I was dropping her off at her condo. She was frantic. "What! You mean this is it? Forever?"
"Yes."
"You can't control me, John. You try to control me, but I have to learn things for myself!"
"OK. Get out and go learn things."
And then, desperate, she played what she thought was her ace in the hole. She invited me to come inside and sleep with her.
Just how many levels of creepy can one come-on have? As I drove off, I stopped counting at five. Sometimes you just have to stop counting, go home and delouse yourself.