Through the eyes of Susan Brucetti I felt like nothing more than a bag of meat. I could imagine her licking her chops like a lioness stalking her prey in the Serengeti. It made no sense. Of all the men strolling mindlessly like cattle through Los Angeles, why my organs? Then a chill ran down my spine; perhaps it wasn’t her who wanted my lungs, kidneys, and testicles. Maybe she was under the thumb of someone else; maybe someone very, very close to me. With that realization, there was only one man to turn to.

Through the middle of a clear day, the blinds were closed. I peered through a small crack overlooking the street below like a drug-addled schizophrenic clutching to a small caliber pistol. I knew she’d be coming through that door and when she did she’d be met with six rounds from my P32.

While I sat in the cold darkness of my second floor apartment, I hear the crunching of busted lightbulbs outside the front door that I placed as an early-warning alarm. The knob turned and I lowered my pistol with finger on the trigger. The door swung open and I prepared to fire.

“Oy mate!” the voice shouted. “Me feet are bleedin worse than Bruce Willis’!”

“Jesus Christ Vic!” I shouted. “I could have killed you!”

“With all the lead and mercury in those bulbs, you might still!”

I lowered the pistol and Vic headed towards the kitchen, leaving bloodied foot prints behind him. Vic was hunting that day, and he didn’t believe in wearing shoes while he stalked various wildlife in the Hollywood Hills. He came out minutes later with raccoon skins wrapped around his feet. “I dunno what’s gotten into ya mate, but you have this place fortified like the Bank of England!” he said.

“My apologies,” I told him. “It’s just that someone wants my organs. And it’s not the first time either!”

“Mate, I told ye a hundred times to not to talk to street salesmen.”

“Why not?” I ask. “Are you afraid of a little competition?”

Vic squints his eyes and leans his head back. “What are you insinuating mate?”

“Susan Brushetti found out where I live. Someone had to of told her.”

“And you think it’s me?”

I instantly regretted my words. In my heart, I knew that Vic would never betray me like that. “No,” I said bashfully. “My apologies Vic. I’ve been a little paranoid lately. I don’t know who to trust anymore.”

“Aye,” Vic said. “You need to tread carefully mate. I’ve killed men for lesser words.”

I threw up my hands in frustration. “I’m gonna have to lay low for awhile,” I said. “I gotta get out of the city until all of this blows over.”

Vic was perplexed. “I don’t understand,” he said.

“No YOU don’t understand,” I retorted. “This town is a dungeon of thieves! Hell has crept up from below the surface and mocks us by masquerading as the city of angels. A man loses his soul a second every hour in this town. The devil has already taken mine and now wants my organs to boot. There’s nothing more I can give. I have little choice but to seek the solace of one Mr. Randall J. Furie.”

“You’re talking crazy mate…”

“That is correct. I am talking crazy because crazy is the only logical path.”

“Have you sought a doctor lately?”

“Vic,” I calmly said. I approached him and rested my hands on his shoulders. “You’ve been a good friend to me,” I told him. “I promise that I won’t be gone long. I promise to send you the money for my half of the rent every month no matter where I am. You gotta trust me.”

“It ain’t about trust mate,” he said. “It’s about your psychological stability.”

TO BE CONTINUED…