The one thing every man needs in his life, is a woman that will stand by him, through all the shit he does. Most of the shit may be stupid and caused by testosterone, but some is from passion. This women was named Sarah and she had beautiful flowing blonde hair. It streamed down like the sea to her luscious shoulders. She was known by every male mobster on the planet. She is seen from time to time she is a thing of legend. She has caused mobster empires to crumble and she is a woman, who is hard to trust. But we don’t care and we know of the risk.

But this one night, when it was covered in blackness I saw her. She got out of a limo, dressed in all black. I knew it was her, as she was on last month’s Playboy cover. I studied that cover from time to time. I looked at her for a second, before covering my gaze with my jacket. I made my way up the sidewalk to her and she saw me. She did not think much of it and I saw she was with a man. He was wearing a newly purchased white suit. She did not seem to bef found of him as he touched her arm. She looked down and went into the studio. She was probably doing another photoshoot and I stood outside. I wiped my sunglasses from the mist and put them back on. I walked in and went to the front desk. The secretary was talking on the phone and the gum in her mouth chomped and chomped as she spoke. She rolled her eyes as she saw me and put down her phone. In the most annoying Jersey accent told me “Welcome to the studio’s we are the best in Jersey, how can I help you?” I pulled out my gun and aimed it at her head. I gave out a smirk, as I lodged the bullet in between her eyebrows with my silenced Colt 1911. Her head flew back and she slumped off her small seat.

Before you go in shock I was not just her for the girl but she could be a bonus. Her fiance owes my boss ten big one’s and he has not paid. He tried to move, but we found where he ran off too. I walk through the curtains into one of the photo rooms where they have one of there models sitting at an office desk. She has her breasts exposed slightly and she has her hair perfectly combed. In the left corner is a cameraman trying to hold in his drool and attempting to take the perfect shot so he can go home. I place a bullet in the back of his head and he drops limp knocking down the camera with him. The model almost let’s out a scream before she is silenced with three bullets piercing her upper torso. She falls off her chair and lands head first on the ground. I then exit the room and go to the next shooting room.

There she is, posing for some sort of beach background and she is carrying a surfboard. The two cameraman on both sides of the room fall first to the grim reaper's hands. She holds in a scream as she see’s me. I reload the pistol and aim it at her. I fire a shot that hits the wall to her right, inches by her head. She had more connections than I had and killing her was not a good option for me. I close the door and walk out the front door. I clean the pistol and throw it in the nearby trashcan. But before I am able to start the car, the woman appears in front of me. More to the side, since she is on the sidewalk but you get my point. “Get out of here the cops will be here in any moment. But she still refused to move and I know she is not going. I wave her over to my car and she enters my car. She seemed excited more than anything, which confused the hell out of me. She must be some sort of adrenaline junkie or she deals with shock, better than most people.