With A Man No Less

Zing.
Ping.
“You like her,
Dontcha?”

Zing.
Ping.
Another empty can
Hits the ground.

Lazarus
Was my mentor.

He was the man
Who taught me
How to hold a gun,
How to introduce a man
To his maker.

He was called Lazarus
Because every time
He was gunned down,
Every time he was left
For dead,
He would come back
And kill his murderer.

Lazarus.
I never learned
His real name,
Not saying he ever
Taught me it.
He just taught me
How to kill.

We were out
In the middle of nowhere
Shooting cans
And discussing
My next assignment.

I knew the when,
The how,
The where,
But I didn’t know
The who.

Zing.
Ping.
“Like who?”

“Do you like Dana?”

I resisted the smile
That normally
Washed across my face.

I drove out the thoughts
Of Dana and I
Kissing under the Tuscan Moon.

“Nah, Laz.
We just worked together
A couple times.”

He dropped his arm,
And stared at me,
Trying to read the truth.
I stared back.

He looked back
At the cans
And proceeded to shoot.

Zing.
Ping.
He accepted my lie.

“Your next target
Is Joey.”

Joey
Short for Joanne.
Dana’s sister.
A nasty piece of work,
But still Dana’s sister.

“Who contracted the hit?”
My voice level,
Normal.

“Morgan.
Joey hurt her
For the last time.
With a man no less.”

Joey died
Two weeks later.
I sat next to Dana
At the funeral.

Morgan died
Two weeks after that.

Zing.
Ping.
“You like her,
Dontcha?”