“Anyone up at the house?” Chuck inquired. “Ah err, just me and the wife,” stammered Jim. “Good, lets us take a slow walk up there,” Chu...k ordered. Chuck opened his jacket slightly to reveal his 9mm. Chuck always carried it when he was on the road. Transporting heroin from Colorado into Chicago was not one of his favorite runs. KC, St. Louis and Joliet weren’t good places to drive through. He could not risk the possibility of a car-jacking or even a simple theft. His bosses might suspect. He is always the last to leave. Tall and broad, he towers above me whenever I serve him his drink. I have always recognised him, even as a child I would walk through and recognise the faces of the people who have been drinking here for years. But I had never noticed him until I began working here. Never noticed his height until he was stood right in front of me. Never noticed his hands, big and safe, until they made contact with mine when he handed the money over. Never noticed the quiet purr. More

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