A Way Out

My name is Jody Miller, and I make people disappear. No, I don't kill them, I don't even dislike the people I help vanish. I think of them as clients, and it's my job to give them a new life. At all cost. I don't work for the CIA or anything like that, in fact what I do is highly illegal, but to me it's necessary and I have the means. I'm on my way to a client right now.

Her husband is a highly dangerous drug lord, and she wants out. She'd literally have to be dead to leave him, or look like she is. That's where I come in. I've erased and restarted the lives of over 100 people in only two years. However, I've made some mistakes that nearly cost some clients, and myself our lives. This is one of my nearly fatal screw-ups.

In the small town of Pompano Beach Florida, I met a young man about 25 years old, black, with a slim build who approached me in a bar. He told me he was afraid to die, and got quiet. I ushered him outside and asked him what his deal was. He broke down and started crying like my grandmother after she watched the notebook. He asked if I was a cop and said he needed protection.

My next question was to ask why he went to a bar to look for cops. He said he wanted to get drunk enough to be able to stomach what he was about to say. I informed him that I wasn't a cop, but he was too drunk to listen. I studied the petrified look on his face as he told me he'd witnessed a double murder. He explained that him and his fiancee were at a night club 3 hours prior which was about 8pm. Her gay best friend tagged along, but mostly stayed on the dance floor while they chatted in the lounge.

Suddenly she got a text from an unknown number claiming it was her estranged older brother. He said he wanted to make things right and that he was waiting outside the club so they could talk. She rushed outside with her best friend in tow for support, leaving the young man dumbfounded. He wanted to wait but thought better of it and rushed out behind them. She was already being man handled and shoved into an SVU along side her friend by two burley men in masks. He tailed them for 30 mins and saw the vehicle stop. Two shots were fired and the bodies of his fiancee and her friend were pulled out of the vehicle and tossed on the side of a dirt road.

He screamed.

No sooner than they spotted him, he went into survival mode and lost them on the road after 20 mins of intense pursuit. After everything was explained, he said he was sure they'd find him again and kill him. He said his fiancee was the only reason he stayed in Florida, that he liked New York better, but her family wanted her close and who was he to fight that when he had no family to speak of. I told him I'd make it like he'd never been born. But it wasn't easy. I had access to the best fake ID printer in the country, I would know, because I bought it from the best fake ID printer salesman in Europe. My first mistake was hanging around the bar for 15 precious extra minutes trying to calm the kid down. The SUV he described pulled up, and without hesitation I pulled out my revolver and blew out their tires. The kid and I got in my car and I sped off, the sounds of distant gunshots ruminating in my head for the next 30 miles.

We were headed to Pensacola, my pilot was there to take him to New York in a small jet. Am I insanely rich? Maybe not Bruce Wayne level wealthy, but something similar. The kid was equipped with his new life starter kit, include was his burning car, a new ID, and a small duffle bag with ten grand. 3,000 of which was from his own bank account. We drained it so he could lay low for a while.

My last mistake was leaving him with my pilot. Yeah. Turns out he was bribed over the phone to turn over the kid for what they called "an advance." Thankfully, I lied to him and said I'd be heading for California in 2 days, and waited for him to circle back around and head for Pompano Beach for the meet up. I got there first, because it took him 3 hours of flying around before he turned around and decided to cross me. I lied in wait as the kid was presented to the gangsters with a bag on his head by my once trusted pilot. I took them all out and flew the kid to NY myself. No one saw a thing.

When we finally arrive we have a deep conversation about how life tends serve you a shit sandwich every now and then. The thing is, no one told you you have to eat it. I'm serious, only a desperately hungry and pathetic person would sit down in their chair, be served a shit sandwich, and pick it up and eat it. We have choices, and opportunities on a constant basis. That's why if I'm ever found out and imprisoned, I'm content. I made my choices, and I'm thankful for the opportunities that led those choices. Wherever I end up in life, I take comfort in the fact that it will at the place and time of my choosing.

Now, I'm heading up the steps of my latest client's sister's house. She still hasn't met me, she was given one of my many contact numbers by a friend, a friend who she refuses to name. She opens the door before I knock and thanks me. She says, "finally, a way out."