LITMIR.BIZ

      Chapter 1

      The Coffee Shop

      You’re not just playing games, when you’re playing with lives.

      “Help me to understand, Sebastian. What is it that drives a man? To take the risk of approaching a woman, without a grain of thought on how to open up to her? Why would you walk over without not knowing what to say?” asked Mike.

      As we were both admiring a pair of gorgeous ladies, who sat a few tables away from us. Seeming to be enjoying their own private conversation, just as much as we were discussing ours.

      “I just can’t get over the habit of having the moment lead the way for me,” I explained. As I smirked at Mike’s attentive stare, I started to school him. “Just calling a woman beautiful is not going to lead you that far, in some cases nowhere at all. But to make a woman feel beautiful, now you’re entering a whole other world,” I detailed.

      He swiped the coffee off his mouth with a napkin faster than a credit card on the card reader. Then threw his hands up surrendering to my claims. “Okay then, you plan on performing hypnosis? Are they going to be in a trance by the time you introduce me?” he questioned sarcastically.

      “Nah man, I’m not doing nothing outrageous just yet,” I reacted. I then waved my finger at him as I continued. “But… Whatever I do say, I’m going to make sure they both tell you. They’ve never been approached in such a manner,” I predicted to Mike.

      He remained in a daze trying to figure out my attempt. As he looked right at them, he informed me. “They’ve been staring at us for a while now, Sebastian.”

      “That’s good!” I assured him. “That’s what they are doing at the moment, if you pick actions of the moment, Mike. Then how can you ever sound rehearsed?” I asked.

      He crossed his arms with a crumbling face of confusion. “So you’re going to ask them what are they staring at?” he asked.

      “No,” I calmly answered.

      There was a flier of an event on the table next to us. I had to think quick, as these two attractive ladies—one blonde and a brunette—at four tables away from us. Possibly interested, from what Mike and I had observed. Even though they were smiling at each other while sharing words, they would take glances in our direction. Our interest grew more as we noticed that the glancing became more frequent. Now maybe I could just approach and introduce myself, but I promised Mike I’d be different.

      “Give me a pen!” I demanded.

      “What? Are you drawing her something?” he joked.

      “Shut up with that. And I’m glad you’re wearing that leather jacket. It makes you look like a detective,” I added. I then turned away from him.

      “This is top of the line right here! You don’t know about this!” Mike yelled as I walked off.

      I then grabbed the flier on the next table faster than the girls could notice. As I approached the table, they leaned away looking up at me. Waiting to see what I had to say.

      “I don’t mean to interrupt your chatter over coffee, but I need to know. Which one of you is hired for the hit? And what’s the motive?” I asked. As I had moved the pen and flier around, pretending to write a police report.

      “Excuse me?” sked the blonde, confused, as if wanting me to repeat myself.

      “Well, my friend Mike over there is very nervous. And he believes you girls have been staring because you’re planning a killing of some sort. So what’s the truth here?” I joked.

      The brunette put a hand over her mouth, holding back her giggles in reaction when the blonde questioned me.

      “Now why would you say that? We just like what we see, that’s all.”

      “Thank you, and…this is just my way of saying hi,” I confessed.

      “Hmm…that’s different,” judged the blonde as I could feel I was being eye-scanned by her friend.

      “I like a man who can be different,” interrupted the brunette. With the help of such a comment, I already knew who I was to aim for.

      “And your name is?” asked the brunette.

      But even to say my name, I wanted to continue keeping this interaction interesting. “Since women love for men to guess their age, let’s just say”—I paused briefly—“you two guess my name, and I’ll do the same in return. And if you get mine right, then I won’t arrest you two,” I joked.

      They laughed and accepted the challenge. “You look like a Carlos,” said the brunette, while she looked me up and down. I pretended to be shocked to add a bit of fun.

      “Me! Why, because I look Spanish?” I blurted. They both shook their heads no as I attempted take a small shot at assuming their names too. “Your friend here looks like a Bridget,” I teased the brunette.

      “What is a Bridget supposed to look like anyways?” she asked sarcastically.

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