Alison Radcliffe was an attractive twenty-seven-year-old.  She knew her comfortable lifestyle was funded by blood money from her husband’s nefarious activities, a reality she tried to ignore but she loved her lifestyle and couldn’t live without it.  The money, the pool, and the fancy clothes were all things she could never live without.

As she sat in their brightly lit living room on a big couch made of white leather, a wave of uncertainty enveloped her thoughts. Her husband Clayton, a man of intrigue and danger, had brought into her life a whirlwind of extravagant riches. She contemplated their relationship, torn between her love for the opulent lifestyle he provided and the knowledge of his criminal activities. His ill-gotten gains had afforded her luxuries she had only dreamt of, from designer clothing to lavish vacations.  They were feelings that didn’t go very far down and at the end of the day, the money was more important than anything else.  She was simply too young and too naïve to fully understand the ramifications of starting a family with somebody like Clayton.

Clayton was in the kitchen making himself brunch, he cracked three eggs into a bowl, their yolks glistening like drops of liquid gold. The sizzle of butter in the skillet created a soothing background melody as he whisked the eggs with a hint of salt and pepper, infusing the room with the comforting aroma of a homemade breakfast. He moved with a practiced grace, grabbing slices of bread from the toaster and spreading a generous layer of creamy butter on them.

As the eggs set to a perfect consistency, he plated them on the toast, garnishing the dish with a sprinkle of fresh chives from a potted herb on the windowsill. With a final touch, a cup of steaming coffee joined the breakfast ensemble.  He carried the plated meal to the couch where Alison was sitting, a small satisfied smile playing on his lips, ready to enjoy the fruits of his morning kitchen labor.

Sitting on their living room couch, they gazed into each other's eyes, their faces illuminated by the bright sun shining through the large floor to ceiling windows.  They embarked on a heartfelt conversation about the prospect of starting a family, something they had been discussing frequently over the last few months. Alison’s fingers traced patterns on Clayton's chest as she spoke.

"Babe, I've been thinking a lot about us having a baby. It feels like the right time, and I can't help but imagine our child's laughter filling this home. How about you? Are you still as excited as I am about starting a family?" she asked.

Clayton's eyes sparkled with delight as he responded.

"I've been feeling the same way, babe. The idea of being parents together, raising a little one.  Love it."

As they spoke of their mutual dreams, their hopes for the future grew palpable. They began discussing names, nursery themes, and the adventures they envisioned sharing with their future child. With each word, their connection deepened, and the idea of becoming parents filled them with a profound sense of joy and anticipation for the beautiful chapter ahead.

Clayton had a serious look on his face.

“Babe, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Alison looked attentive and troubled.

“What is it, babe?” she asked.

“I’ve got some shit I have to take care of this afternoon.  There’s somebody I have to deal with rather harshly.”

Alison found her husband's tough guy lifestyle attractive.  She was too simple-minded to even comprehend that it might be Clayton who found himself on the wrong end of a gun.  She thought he was invincible.  She always assumed he’d come home at the end of every day.

“Who is he?” she asked.

“ It’s a woman.”

“It’s a woman?”

“Yeah”

“Does she owe you money?”

“Not me.”

“You’re going to kill her?”

“Yeah.”

Alison pondered the reality that her husband was about to go out and end a human life.  It didn’t bother her much at all.

“Dumb bitch probably deserves it, right, baby?” she said coldly.

“I’m sure she does.”

Clayton‘s mind had wandered towards the hit on Julie Koop that was just hours away.

“Listen, Alie, this next kill, this business I’m about to take care of, it’s going to be my last. This is it for me.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I mean, I’m out. No more of this, no more selling cocaine, no more hit jobs, I want out of this lifestyle.  Guys like me have a short shelf life.”

Alison turned towards Clayton and began stroking his chest lovingly.

“Can…can we do that?” she asked with concern in her voice.

“It might not be easy.  Alie, there will be sacrifices that we have to make. You know, with possible downsizing and stuff like that.  Your allowance would be smaller.”

Alison set up straighter on the couch looking concerned.

“I could still go shopping every day though, right? I want Gucci! Can I still have Gucci?  You know how much I love my Gucci purses! I have one on order right now, it cost $3000!  Will I still be able to have expensive purses?”

Clayton was aware that leaving the gangster lifestyle for a clean, strait-laced job might be damn near impossible.  As he thought about the monthly bills stacked on his desk, he felt a knot of uncertainty tighten in his stomach. The financial security he had built over the years was a lifeline he had grown dependent on. The idea of exploring uncharted waters filled him with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. It was a decision that would require careful consideration, as he grappled with the question of whether he could truly live without the money that the cocaine trade provided him.   

“Sure, you can have Gucci,” he said in a flat tone.

Clayton turned his attention to his breakfast, while Alison started scrolling on her phone.

“Look, baby, look at this purse I want.”

Alison showed Clayton a picture on her phone of a purse worth $1500.

“Isn’t that beautiful? It’s a work of art.  My girlfriends are gonna be so jealous.  Can’t you just see me in a little micro-mini dress with that little clutch in my hand? It’s Gucci!”

“Looks nice,” Clayton said.

Alison produced another picture on her phone and showed Clayton.

“Oh my God, this one’s even nicer! And even more expensive! Look at this one!”

Once again, Clayton looked at his wife’s phone and nodded.

“Looks nice!”

“God, I want that one so fucking bad. Can I have that one? It’s $2000!”

“Sure.”

Alison then showed Clayton another picture.

“And I want these boots!!  A girl can never have enough boots, I only have ten pairs. My girlfriends all have more boots than me, those little bitches.  You know my girlfriend Chantel? She has thirty pairs of boots! Can you believe that?  I can’t allow that.  Nobody is going to have more boots than me!  That should be a crime.”

Clayton continued eating his breakfast without saying anything.  His mind was cloudy and confused. He couldn’t see a path forward, he couldn’t see a way out of the violent, criminal lifestyle he found himself stuck in, but he was determined to find a way.

He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, it was a text message from Jimmy Chen.

‘I’m out front’

Clayton typed out his response: ‘I’ll be right out’

“Babe, I have to go,” he said.

“Okay sweetie, I’m gonna go ahead and order those boots, okay?”

“Sure.  Can’t wait to see you in them.”

Clayton gave Alison a quick kiss on the lips and left his house, Jimmy’s Hummer sitting at the end of his driveway.  Jimmy was sitting inside looking cold and stone-faced, he was talking on his cell phone.

As soon as Clayton opened the passenger door, Jimmy ended the phone call.

“That was Bronson. He’s still down in Mexico, I just told him the balls rolling.  Let’s go!” Jimmy said with a stone, cold voice.

As the two men cruised through the wealthy suburb, tension hung heavy inside Jimmy's car.  Their faces were blank, and their hearts raced with a mix of adrenaline and determination.  Jimmy’s acne-scarred face was etched with coldness, he glanced at his partner breaking the silence that had settled between them.

"You understand what we're about to do, right?" he asked with absolutely no doubt in his voice.

“Kill a woman? I couldn’t give a shit. We get paid either way,” Clayton responded.

The road stretched out before them, winding through the suburbs as they made their way towards Willowbrook Mall, their faces revealed a mixture of resolve and evil.  They turned the corner and found themselves driving through a nice middle-class suburb, they passed a playground and Clayton looked over at the kids playing, but only briefly. He was too focused on the task ahead to think about his plans for starting his own family.   

Sitting in the passenger seat, Clayton took an inventory, making sure he was ready for the task ahead of him.  He had with him a pair of black gloves which he always wore when carrying out a hit job. This guaranteed that there would be no fingerprints found on any weapons if something went wrong.  In the inside pocket of his black jacket was his trusted 9-millimetre semi-automatic handgun.  He took it out and released the magazine to make sure it was fully loaded with bullets, which it was.  He rammed the loaded magazine back into the handle and made sure the safety was on before placing it back into the inside pocket of his jacket.  Clayton Radcliffe had done this many times before.

Before long, they arrived at Willowbrook Mall and pulled into the parking lot, Jimmy immediately spotted Julie’s red Mustang parked in front of the Walmart superstore.

“She’s here,” he said.