Call of Duty
“I promise, if you do this for me I’ll never ask for anything again.”
“Yeah, and then I end up in prison while you’re dating the postman.”
“Hank, it’s not like what I’m asking you to do is a federal offense. Besides,” I said as I reached across the counter to grab his hand, “I promise we’ll come visit you.”
“Very funny.” He pulled away and walked to the French doors, looking out into our neighbor’s backyard.
I followed him, wrapped my arms around his waist (without mentioning how much harder that was to do these days) and rested my head on his shoulder. “Please,” I whispered.
He turned, breaking my grip, and faced me, “So what do I get out of this?”
“You’ll make your wife happy; isn’t that enough?” Believing I hit a soft spot I added, “It used to be.”
“Why is it so important for you to get rid of this Tyler guy? What’s so wrong with him?”
“He’s a pompous idiot who’s totally fooled Anna into believing that he’s right for her; he needs to go.”
“And what if Anna finds out you were the one behind his disappearance, where will your friendship be then?”
“She won’t find out; there’ll be no way she can prove it, no trail. You’ll make sure of that. You’re the professional. Please Mike?” I felt his ice melting, “I’ll take Anna shopping and you can take care of him then.”
He sighed. “Okay. After fifteen years of acting, this is the only role I can land, but I’ll do it. I’ll give him my best Mafia boss/boyfriend impression. He’ll be on the east coast by morning.”
I threw my arms around his neck, kissed his cheek and said, “Oh grazie, grazie my Capone!”
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