ETHAN BACH - THE HIT

Ethan Bach is a brain tumor survivor, who currently is obtaining his Creative Writing degree at Full Sail University online. Along with writing, he enjoys walking his Siberian huskies, seeing the latest movie in the cinemas and cheering on the Los Angeles Rams.

​The Hit

​The buzzing of the cellphone in Mrs. Waterfield’s pocket made her cringe. It was only her deadbeat husband calling for the third time in the last hour. It was the same deadbeat husband who she had caught cheating on her with his secretary when he was supposed to be working late. “Oh it’s just him,” she said.
            The man sitting across from her on the hotel balcony leaned in toward her with his hands on his knees. “Well miss, you won’t have to worry about him much longer.” He paused a moment while she took a big gulp of her vodka tonic. “Now, how do you want this done? There are many different ways I can go about this,” he said.
            Still grimacing from her drink, she said, “I don’t care how it’s done, just as long as it doesn’t get traced back to me.”
            “Miss, In order for it to get traced back to you, it would have to get traced back to me,” he said.
            She shot him a look.
            “I’m a professional.” he said, each syllable leaving his lips clearly. “That said, this profession comes with a price.”
            She waved her hand in a circular motion as if to say let’s get this over with. “Not an issue,” she said. Mrs. Waterfield pulled out four stacks of cash out of her purse and put them on the table in front of the man.
            “Wonderful,” he said, smiling. “We’re just about done here.”
            “Well what else is there to-“ she started
            “Shh shh shhhhh.” He put his finger to his lips. “I’d answer that,”
            Her cellphone buzzed again, the all too familiar tone of Don’t Worry, Be Happy chimed out. She hesitated, unsure of what to do.
            He motioned towards the phone with encouragement.
            “Why would I want to do that?” she asked.
            “Just answer it,” he said. He pulled out a silenced handgun and placed it on the table in front of him.
            After seeing the gun, she fumbled with the phone before getting a clear grasp on it to answer, “H-hey dear, I’m so sorry. The traffic is horrible today,” she said.
            “Three. I gave you three chances to stop this charade. And now it’s too late.”
            “Honey. What are you talking about?” she said.
            “And you thought I’d cheat on you with Barbara? I told you the type of business we were getting ourselves into. The types of people I was working with. I’m a part of a new family now. You knew that.”
            The hit man pointed the gun at her.
            “Barbara was just a test of your loyalty to me, to the family, to everything,” David said.
            “Davey, no. I didn’t mean t-“
            “And you failed,” David said, and then the line went dead.
            She threw down the phone and shielded her face with her hands, “You don’t have to do this.”
            “Sorry Mrs. Waterfield,” the hit man said, “Family comes first.”