I laugh at that. "You’re scared about getting things dirty when you run a corporation like this?" I shake my head.
He runs the world's largest hitman operation. He has something like fifty guys working for him, taking jobs that they're hired to complete. Speaking of, Rogue slides a folder across the table.
"What's that?" I ask.
"Your next hit," he says.
"Who's my target?" I ask, opening the file up and scanning my eyes over the paper. I know this is going to be shredded the moment I walk out of here. Later, it will be incinerated in the basement of this warehouse. No evidence. We keep our fingerprints light. Later, a brief will be emailed to an encrypted account.
"His name is Cane O'Grady," Rogue tells me, lighting his cigar. He leans back, legs crossed, takes a puff.
"Seems pretty simple," I say, scanning the major details. Las Vegas. Saturday afternoon.
I want to ask who hired him, who wants him dead, but I don't. That's none of my business, and one of the reasons I can separate this job from my personal life. If I don't ask questions, I don't have to worry about the ethics of the answer.
"So, you're good? You can head out?"
I nod. "Yeah, I'll catch a flight tomorrow. Maybe enjoy the Strip for a night before I get to work."
Rogue nods. "That might be good for you. I don't think you've had much fun lately."
I frown. "What do you know about me and fun?"
Rogue shrugs. "I know you work like a horse, that you take on more and more jobs without really needing to."
"I like to save my money," I say.
"I know, but..." Rogue pauses, shaking his head.
"What?" I press, "What aren't you saying?"
"Look, I've known you since you were what, eighteen years old? After your parents died, I took you under my wing, and I told you I would do anything for you, but is this really what you want?"
I clench my jaw, running a hand over it. "You saying you want me out of the business?"
Rogue shakes his head. "No, that's not what I'm saying at all. You're like family to me. Hell, you are family to me, but Flynn, you're a family man."
"What is that supposed to mean?" I ask.
"It means I don't want you to end up like I am, single and alone. I want you to get married, have a family, have a real chance at life."
"I can't have a family and do this job," I say.
"I know that," Rogue says.
I swallow my anger. "Why does it feel like you're trying to fire me?"
"I'm not," Rogue says, "I swear to you. I'm not. I'm just telling you, maybe, you know, think about options. Go have some fun, let down your guard for a moment and take in what the world has to offer. When's the last time you did something just for you?"
"Is this a pep talk or fatherly advice?" I ask.
"Maybe it's both," Rogue says, "but I mean it. You've been working too hard. If all you'll do is take one night off, fine, but I wish you'd take more."
"Why?" I ask. "Why are you bringing this up now?"
"Because, when you're not on a job, you go to the gym, that's it. You eat, you sleep, you work out, you kill. There's more to living than that," he says, "and I wish I would have figured it out when I was your age."
"You have regrets?" I ask him.
He shrugs, taking another puff of his cigar. "I'm not here to talk about regrets. Hell, that's a slippery slope, considering the business we're in. But I am talking about enjoying yourself. You're only young once," he grins, "and to be honest, Flynn, you ain't that young anymore."
When the plane lands at McCarran International Airport in Las Vegas, I grab my carry-on from the overhead compartment and slide on my sunglasses. The last thing I want to do is make eye contact. I'm here to kill, not to make friends, even if Rogue tried to convince me otherwise.
I take a Town Car to a new hotel on the Strip, the Crown Casino, and it's pretty fucking nice. There’s a valet service waiting for me when I enter the lobby, and I'm whisked to a suite. There's fine ass art on the walls and it makes me think of Rogue. Thinking of him makes me wonder if maybe he's right. Maybe I ought to have a little fun.
In my hotel suite, I check my phone and see Tommy's texted me again, "Dude, change of plans. I’m coming to Vegas. Let's go to a strip club."
I type back, "I’ll pass. Enjoy yourself though. We can meet up tomorrow if you’re not too hungover."
I turn off my phone, honestly uninterested in a strip club. That's never been my scene. Like I said, I'm a low-key guy and I'm looking for a low-key woman. I don't need high heels and glossy lips and fishnet stockings. I need laughter. Maybe a girl who looks like sunshine. God knows my life could use a few rays of light.