Sarah’s fingers dig at the hole in her temple. After something of a struggle, she holds the bullet in her finger tips, ‘I think, Mr. Glenn, you’re going to need a bigger gun.’
She looks at the bullet then turns to him, he’s sitting staring at her, his mouth wide open, Sarah reaches across, gently touching her fingers under his jaw, closing his mouth, ‘You’re causing a draught.’
The bullet is lying on the palm of her hand. She’s offering it to him. He swallows hard, just now starting to blink.
Joe looks at the hole in her temple as it closes. He swallows hard again, ‘Oh…’
Sarah shakes her head, ’Don’t say it, Mr. Glenn.’ She smiles, putting her seatbelt on.
‘How…how…’
‘Given you something else to think about, hasn’t it?’
Joe puts the gun away, looking at the bullet.
‘I think we should…’ Sarah gestures at him to drive, placing her jacket back on her lap.
Joe starts the car. Then puts his seatbelt on, ’How am I supposed to do this?’
‘Put it in gear, take the handbrake off and away we go.’ Sarah smiles, casually flicking her hair away from her cheek.
Joe slowly turns his head and looks at her, ‘Anymore jokes? I got a PhD in the fucking obvious already.’
‘Careful, Mr. Glenn. I wouldn’t want you to run anybody over.’
Joe thumps the lever into gear and bangs the handbrake off, shaking his head, ‘Gonna be one of those days, isn’t it?’
Sarah sits quietly, smiling.

Not really lost for words, tongue tied perhaps and that, for Joe Glenn, is definitely new. Sitting alongside him is a very pretty young woman who has survived shoving a knife through her hand and a point blank shot to her head as if nothing was wrong at all.
What part of this picture isn’t wrong?
The part of her looking like she does and that isn’t necessarily a good thing. Not now that she digs out the bullet from her head and hands it to him.
That is definitely wrong.
For what it’s worth, he might just have well tickled her and got the same response.
Joe drives, back towards town and he just doesn’t know what to say, she sits there all quiet and so unconcerned.

Joe has a quick look at her as the lights change to red.
Her eyes slowly move to look at him, questioning.
Come on; think about it.
Sarah says nothing. All up to him now and it’s not as if he’s ever backed down before, but saying that, he’s never come up against anything like her before either.
He kills her and gets his life back. But from what he’s done, she should be dead already. There is the school of thought that would tell him how ridiculous this is; there isn’t anything he can see that will logically explain what happened and where this went wrong.
So, Joe Glenn, Play or pass?
There is no ‘play’ in this, this isn’t how the game is played.
So I pass then?
I didn’t say that.
Let’s just run with the premise that she can give me my life back, that I do somehow manage to kill her, and that’s almost a joke, Kill her? Then what? I’m trying to run before I can walk; she should be dead! Not sitting there telling me I need a bigger gun.
Is there something that I’ve missed? To do with her, but this is her offer; my life for yours and that, friends and neighbours, is where this falls apart...

Sarah points, ’Pull over here please.’
Joe slows the car and stops just passed the bus stop.
Sarah picks up her bag and jacket, ’So what time should I collect you?’
Joe looks at her as she takes her seatbelt off, ’Collect me, for what?’
‘Dinner. What time?’
‘Oh you eat dinner do you?’
‘I said I don’t eat lunch. I didn’t say anything about not eating dinner. Time, Mr. Glenn.’
Joe shrugs, ’Okay, about seven?’
‘That’ll do fine. Chinese. You know the Peking Garden?’
‘Yeah, that’s a good one.’
Sarah smiles, ’Yes, as I thought,’ she opens the door, ‘oh, Mr. Glenn, dress casual. Not like that. It doesn’t really suit you.’
Before he can really get a few words together, she’s out of the car and walking away. Joe looks at her in the mirror, she turns her head slightly leaving him wonder if she knows he’s watching…

A little before seven when the beeping disturbs his train of thought. She’s punctual if nothing else.
Answering the door to her and she looks different than earlier. She’s wearing a black skirt, either silk or chiffon, about six inches shy of her knees and clinging to her hips like it’s superglued there, a white blouse translucent in the light of his flat, but if she looked sexy earlier, now it’s as if she’s someone else entirely, that same gorgeous smile and the way she moves, making a mockery of what she’d done in his car earlier.
Her black leather jacket, almost the same length as her skirt, listening to the way that moves on her and it’s a soft, subtle noise, she looks up at a painting over the fireplace, pointing, ’You didn’t do that, surely?’
Joe nods, yeah, this is one of his. A massive 5x6 canvas painting of his two kids. This is Joe’s treasure, he doesn’t paint that often, but when he does, he can let it flow, he’ll close his eyes and see.
Sarah lets her fingertips move over the canvas, a gasp, ’That’s stunning.’ Her whisper and shaking her head.
‘Didn’t think I could, did you?’
Sarah smiles at him, ’No. You don’t look like the type.’
‘Goes against the grain, does it?’
‘Mr. Glenn, no need to labour the point.’
Joe puts his jacket on, ’No, you’re right. Sorry.’
Watching the way she stands by his painting, her stance, the way her skirt is pulled tightly against her thighs, the shape of her calves accentuated by her heels, Joe’s smile, yeah, she knows what she’s doing…
Sarah turns so quickly from the painting, ’We should go.’
‘Ready when you are.’ Joe smiles at her.
She walks next to him, taking his arm, ’You know, Mr. Glenn, I’m beginning to like you.’
‘Let’s not get too carried away.’
Sarah opens the front door, ’Let me be the judge of that. Joe.’ She smiles again, leading the way.
For the record, that’s the first time she’s called him ‘Joe’ and she’d said it in a very, very sexy way.
Okay, that’s his interpretation of it and he’ll stick with it.
Again, walking out to the Street and Sarah takes his arm. Over the road and the curtain moves, number twenty three again.
Sarah stops next to a blue Mini, looking in the direction of the bitch’s house. She nods like she knows as Joe waits by the door.
The drive doesn’t take that long; a little over ten minutes. Walking up to the restaurant and Sarah holding his arm again, with Joe honestly thinking just how cosy this has become, but also knowing what the business with her really is.
His question from earlier is heard in his head again; play or pass?
Looking at her, the way she moves, the way she smiles and oh the way she talks, ’play or pass’ is looking a lot more difficult.
Another question from Joe to himself; What the hell is going on here?

Her suggestion for him to dress casual, so he has, but she seems more… provocative? As if Sarah is showing him something, and slightly different, now he’s using ’Sarah’ as opposed to she.
Maybe, this is nothing but a part of her game; a distraction and if that’s the case, then it sure as hell is working.
This isn’t just him though, is it?
There’s a subtlety in the way Sarah holds and then touches his arm, the way her smile can show him something that’s got nothing to do with killing her and getting his life back.

The woman who looks at them from behind the counter is about four feet eleven, smiles like crazy at Joe and then she talks and her words come out faster than the speed of sound. Sarah starts giggling, that’s not rude because Joe is doing the same, the little woman referring to Joe as ’Mistah Joe’ and showing them to a table towards the back of the restaurant.
The Peking Garden has a long dining area, that’s partially hidden by the archway up by the bar, there are three tables across at its narrowest point and four elsewhere. The table that Sarah and Joe are given has the established checker patterned vinyl covering, easy clean being the virtue here.
Quite a few other diners are here as well, Sarah takes her jacket off as does Joe, he then taking to look at her bare arms.
A small, young woman runs up to the table and bows, an order is placed, and she takes off again.
Both then take to the menu’s. Sarah occasionally looking up at him, Joe is otherwise engaged, he’s thinking food and not her.
The small young woman is back with a small pot and two very small cups, another grin that never seems to fade and as Joe starts ordering, she whips out her note book like she’s drawing a sword and writing like it’s going out of fashion.
Very quick nods at the two of them and she’s off again.
Sarah pours the tea for them, placing the pot down and passing across a small cup, ’How much do you know about me, Joe?’
Joe moves the small cup close in, elbows on the table, ’Nothing. The only info I had was that Lewis Elliott had a daughter. You weren’t the target so you didn’t matter.’
Sarah nods, ’Hmm, that’s nice to know. I didn’t matter.’
‘But you didn’t. He was the target, not you.’
‘He was my Dad. Didn’t you ever stop to think about why?’
‘No. I was offered the contract and at twenty thousand, I couldn’t say no, could I?’
‘I don’t know, I’m not you.’ Sarah looks at him and it’s such a hard look, her green eyes that stare at him.
‘Are we back to the business between us?’
Sarah takes a drink of her tea, ’I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.’
‘Why?’
Sarah laughs, ’Now you ask why. Oh, Mr. Glenn, you never cease to amaze me.’
Joe drinks his tea, putting the small cup down and then shoving it towards her, ’Your offer, does it still stand?’
‘Yes, but you might need time to think about it.’
Joe shakes his head, ’No I don’t. I’ll take the offer. Then I’ll see just how good you really are.’
Sarah smiles and it’s quite spiteful, ’Be careful, Mr. Glenn. You don’t know me or what I can do.’
‘Well, I’ve seen some of what you can do. What’s next; you going to turn the world upside down or some other really useful thing?’
Sarah pours out more tea, ‘Why Mr. Glenn, such an imagination you have.’ She giggles and has gone back to sounding so nice again.
Joe drinks tea as the small young woman returns with the first of their dishes…