24^th  March

Been sent around town with Roamer on a few more delivery jobs. And one of them actually got ugly. We met this young ‘rich kid’ on Tuesday night down in the west-side parking lot and when the dude nervously looked around himself a few times, we realised he was not alone. The bully that he is, Roamer quickly pulled his gun, grabbed the kid and put the gun to his head. Before I could grab mine, two motherfucking big dudes with sunglasses jumped from out of a dark Mercedes that was standing in the row behind us and pointed guns at us, screaming chaotically. No idea how they could see with those dark glasses down here, but anyway, I got fucking scared. I didn’t know what to do, but my instincts told me to play cool. So I put my hands in the air and said with a sarcastic tone: Whoa, whoa guys! Now you wouldn’t just shoot down a girl in cold blood now, would you? It actually worked. The guys calmed down for a sec and we could negotiate to sort our little problem here. 

Turned out those two heavy loaders were the life guards of the rich kid, who of course was too chicken to meet us alone. Can’t blame him really. After Roamer was done shouting and insulting everyone, he put the gun down and the rich boy got his high class coke. We got the cash bag and all three of them drove off quickly in that fancy, dark blue Benz.  Finally I could breathe out, but goaad, was I shaking. Roamer could have had us killed, but oh no, he doesn’t have the sense to even consider that. He was complaining and swearing all the way back to the factory room. But then again, in our business, you can get killed in an instant anyway. I really understood that now. This is the risk, and this is what Mister N. warned me about in the beginning.

I had to take the bus home that night, and I drank a whole bottle of wine. I really don’t like dealing with Roamer, even though he congratulated me on my first hit and gave me a really expensive bottle of whiskey. I don’t like all those petty, brutal gangster jobs. I’m itching in my fingers and I want to kill someone, yes literally.  I don’t want messy jobs. I’m supposed to be a cat on the hunt, not a rude, barking bull terrier like Roamer.

What... and now this, for real??? Just now I got a message from Mister N. Asking me to jump into a taxi and pick up his wife’s dry cleaning on the way to the office. Gee, that is not my job?! Shouldn’t a maid be doing that for him? Come on? Fair enough, I am Mister N.’s all-round assistant after all, guess I shouldn’t complain and just do anything he asks me too.  Jamie told me this morning that there is going to be a hit soon out of town and one, or even two of us, will be going to do it. Oh, please, let this be me and Jamie....  Jamie and me on a trip together, oh wow, there definitely would be romance in the air for us. A girl can dream, can she??! Well, I better get going to the dry cleaners...