Targets

Jack's mind dictated him to drink the glass of water placed in front of him, but the fear in his heart countered this command and told him to sit still instead. Beads of precipitation formed on his forehead as he looked across the table.

A seductive smile spread across her face as she gazed at the frightened image sitting in front of her. She uncrossed her shapely legs and sighed. In another setting someone might have misunderstood that sound as a sign of pleasure, but Jack knew that there was nothing but contempt in store for him.

Her mini skirt and the skimpy halter top didn't left much for the imagination while her jet black hair enveloped her pale oval face, but it were the coal black eyes that captured all of Jack's attention. He could actually feel the air getting colder as the seconds ticked past and the chill entering through every pore of his body as she kept boring him with those eyes of hers.

'How have you been doing Jack?' she purred.

'Good.' Whatever confidence Jack had been trying to muster up evaporated in an instant.

'Let me get straight to the point Jack. How many clients do you have in a month?'

'23.' He mumbled.

'Only Regulars? or Including New clients?' she said in her best honey coated voice.

'Regulars.'

'And New clients? What about them?'

'On an average, I manage to hook 4 or 5 new clients in a month.' Jack could hear some sense of confidence being restored in his voice.

'And what is the conversion rate?'

'Mostly 3 of them become regulars.' Yes. The confidence was back. Nothing bad could happen to him. He was the star.

'And when was the last time you had a new client Mr. Jack?'

Jack felt as if he had just been punched in the stomach.

He fumbled with the words to form a coherent answer but she blew him off with the rest of her words.

'Each month we give every peddler $20,000 worth of cocaine to give out for free. To hook up more users, to give the rich brats something new to flaunt about and all of this only to give opportunities to our distribution agents to grow, to prosper, to become rich. This is our way of saying thank you Mr. Jack. OURS. FOR YOU'

The last words cut through the air and entered Jack's heart.

'And you Mr. Jack haven't brought a new client since the last 5 months. 5 FUCKING MONTHS. But still you avail that free coke from us.'

As her voice increased decibel by decibel with every word she spoke, Jack felt a dread seeping into his body.

'$100,000 down the drain. And your business from those 23 regular clients you are so gleefully mentioning hasn't been more then $53,000. Not monthly but collectively for 5 months.' she spat out at him.

'Recession hit all of them hard. They wanted more to cope with the frustrations and I didn't want them to loose them to cheaper substitutes that is why I kept the supply at a lesser rate,' Even to Jack this sounded lame. 'Also all those other peddlers. They keep stealing my clients. Despite the clear division of territories they...'

His eyes met hers and he stopped in mid sentence. There was a legend in the business that her eyes were the doorways of hell. One could actually see the bowels of the devil's lair through them. Jack could have swore that it was all true.

'You see Jack. It might happen once, twice or even three times if your luck is out to screw you hard but for 5 months?? It only tells me either everyone has turned to God for peace in your neighborhood or you are doing a shitty job.'

A silence engulfed the room.

'You would agree Jack you have just become bad for business. You are fired.' she said calmly.

Jack expected a sledgehammer to shatter his ribs, he expected the air out of his lungs to choke out. Strangely, none of that happened. Sure, he had fallen to a more lower level in the hierarchy of things but wasn't his mom always used to say he was a man of spirit?

'That is my Jackie boy,' he could picture her saying, 'always bounces back when his opponent's back has turned.'

'Pimping isn't a bad option,' he thought,' or I can always become a paddler for that fat Indian.'

His chains of thoughts were broken by a click.

He saw a Beretta sitting prettily in her manicured hands.

She threw her seductive smile back at him and said, 'Sadly for you no one leaves the business alive.'

The last thing his mind told him was,'I told you to drink that glass of water.'