Friday night was date night at Gigliotti's, pronounced jill-ot-tees, which was a popular spot with reservations becoming increasingly difficult to acquire. It was an upscale Italian restaurant that boasted fair prices and massive portions. Most people came for the ambience though. They played classic Italian music low enough that it was barely audible, but it was there, and it was comforting. The lighting was always bright enough for the wait staff to move around, but dim enough so that each patron could have the illusion of their table being isolated if they let themselves be drawn in. Christopher Breslin wouldn't allow that though, not yet. In the past week he had picked up his first client for the contracting business he was trying to start from scratch, and tonight he had his first date since leaving the Army. The past six months had been an uncomfortable transition, but things were looking up. Chris was just north of six feet and two hundred pounds. Most of that weight was muscle, but he had noticed some extra meat around his mid-section that wasn't there when he first got out of the Army. He had olive skin and green eyes due to his Italian mother and Irish father, respectively. The restaurant was crowded. Chris saw that as both good and bad. He liked being a nameless face in a crowd. The anonymity comforted him, but 12 years in the Army taught him to be wary of large groups of people. He always became tense in these types of settings. A doctor called it "hyper vigilance", probably a symptom of post-traumatic stress disorder, but he considered it a symptom of having good survival instincts. He sighed and accepted the fact that he would be ceaselessly scanning the room tonight, hoping Kara wouldn't think he was being rude. Or worse, somehow catch on to the real reason he had asked her out tonight. Conversations in Gigliotti's were intimate and low keeping the overall volume at a dull murmur. No drunk patrons shouting over a football game on a giant TV here. The loudest sound was the occasional crash from the kitchen when a server came through the door with plates of various Italian foods precariously positioned in their arms. Chris spotted Kara's lithe frame being led toward him by their waiter. She wore a knee length dress, forest green, with a black shawl. The colors complimented her caramel skin. He suddenly felt underdressed in his turquoise button up and black slacks. She definitely cleans up better than me, he thought. "Sorry I'm late soldier boy," she said, winking. "Have you been waiting long?" Chris shook his head. "Only a minute or two." From behind Kara the waiter, a tall teenager with shaggy hair, arched his eyebrows but ignored the lie and presented them with menus. Chris made a mental note to tip the boy well. He had been seated twenty minutes ago, ten minutes early for the date. She was ten minutes late. "Well, we're here now," she said. "How did you get reservations here so quickly anyway? We only ran into each other a little over a week ago." "I'm old friends with one of the cooks. We played football together when we were kids, before his family moved away." He explained. "It's always nice to have connections. So how have you been? Glad to be a civilian again?" Chris suspected that his name, the fact that they went to the same high school, and that he left for the Army right after, were the only things she knew about him. "Honestly, I've been bored and restless lately. It's hard to go from constantly having work to do, to having nothing to do at all. It was nice at first, but now I'm ready to get back to work." The confusion on her face told him the idea of not having to work wasn't a bad thing in her mind. He pressed on anyway. "Today has been good though. I'm trying to start a contracting business in the city, and I got my first client Tuesday. The job has to be done by next Friday, but I think I can get it done early." A smile lit up her face. "Contracting? Like a general contractor? I have an uncle that does that. He works with two of my cousins remodeling houses. They make pretty good money. If you want, I can float your name to him and maybe you could work together." Chris gave a noncommittal shrug. He didn't want to be rude, but also didn't want to join her family's business on the first date. He thought he could already see a wedding ring sparkling in her eyes. "Maybe after I have a foothold," he said to appease her. "I'd rather see how far I can make it on my own first. Test myself, I guess." Her smile faltered a little. "Okay, well good luck," she said dismissively. After a moment she added, "A week for a job isn't much time. Is it just a roof refurbishing? Or maybe a deck?" Eyebrows raised, Chris replied, "You know a lot more about construction than I thought. Did you used to go with your uncle or something?" Kara nodded, "It was my favorite thing to do in the summer while school was out. He used to tell me I was more help than either of my cousins." "Why do they work there and not you, then?" She rolled her eyes. "Because they're BOYS. My little girl arms are too weak to carry tools around all day." She finished with only a hint of bitterness. Chris chose his words carefully, sensing a wrong step could end the night too soon. "When you're done in nursing school you can stitch them up," he offered. "You know, when their little boy brains don't understand how to use the tools properly." Her laugh was full and loud enough to cause the nearby tables to glance over. Chris winked at them, not liking the attention but playing it off. "How about we stop talking about work? Let's pick something else," he suggested. "I know exactly what we should do. Let's play the Island Game. Do you know how to play?" "That's the game where you pick 3 objects to bring to live on an island forever, right?" he asked. "Like, 3 of your favorite books and those are the only 3 you'll ever get to read on the island." "Nope. That's the Other Island Game." He snorted louder than was polite. "Oh, of course. I don't know how I got them confused. So please, refresh my memory. How do you play the Island Game?" "You look at the people throughout the room. Imagine what their life is like, who they really are, and if they have any useful skills. Then you pick 3 of them to take on a desert island with you to help survive. Plane crash in the Bermuda Triangle style." "That's an interesting game for a first date." "Hey, it's a pretty good way to get to know someone. Or are you not a big fan of people watching?" Chris had already made assessments of half the people in the room. "It sounds fun, Kara. What are the rules on picking people?" "Well, we each take turns picking one person at a time. You have to explain why you picked that person and then they are off the table for anyone else to pick." "So, we can't have the same people on our teams. I guess if the Crocodile Hunter walks in here, I call dibs." The quick wit earned him another smile. The waiter returned, asking if they were ready to order. Neither of them had so much as opened their menus yet. After a moment, Chris suggested they both get the day's special. Once the waiter had left with their order Kara turned back to Chris. "I'll let you go first since the game was my idea." "No, ladies first." "So you're still first?" she said with a mischievous grin. Chris wished he could get used to that look. "Okay, fair enough." He looked around the room for show. He already had his three choices in mind, but didn't want to ruin the game by pushing through too quickly. "I'll take the skinny kid in the blazer over there." Discreetly he pointed at a table toward the far wall, where a young man was trying desperately to maintain the attention of a date that would rather play on her phone. "Okay, not who I would've picked first, but I'll bite. Why him?" "Well for one, the poor kid is tenacious. If our date was going that way, I'd have already called it a wash and left." "Maybe they aren't playing any fun games like us." "She might be playing a game on her phone." "Poor kid," she said sympathetically. "So, you picked him out of pity? Not a good way to survive on an island." "Well not just that. Like I said, he's tenacious. It's good to have someone that won't give up easily. Plus, he's young and on the healthy side. A little skinny, but healthy. And lastly, he looks like the type that would just do what he's told instead of fighting for power." "Wow. All that because the kid hasn't given up on his date? I'm impressed. You may be better at this game than me." Chris shrugged off the compliment. "Your turn." "I pick the lumberjack," she said, nodding her head toward a table where an absurdly large man in flannel sat with his family. "For obvious reasons." "He could definitely haul anything you needed to move," Chris said, looking at the man's log-sized biceps. He had planned on picking the man next. "And chop wood for shelter," she added. "Chop wood? That guy doesn't need an axe, he could kick a tree down." "You aren't exactly tiny yourself, Chris." "True," he agreed, "but at least I'm realistically proportional. There is no reason that man should exist." Both covered their mouths to muffle the laughter. Chris honestly didn't think he'd be having this much fun. He decided he was glad he'd asked her out tonight, even though it was a last-minute change of plan. "My turn again, eh? I pick our waiter," Chris said as the waiter showed up with their food, two plates of spicy shrimp penne. "I was going to pick him!" "Well, too bad. He's mine." The waiter didn't seem to like the sound of that too much. "He's young, fit, and look how dexterous he is when he carries all those different plates. No telling what that could translate to in the wild," Chris continued. The waiter took a small step backward before asking if they needed anything else. "No, we're fine," said Kara. "And don't mind us, we're just playing a game." The waiter nodded and walked away with a confused smile. Chris made a mental note to tip the teenager really well. They paused the game for a minute to enjoy their meals. Little was said while they ate, but it was a comfortable silence. Halfway through her meal, Kara said, "I think for my next pick I'm going to go with the man in the light blue suit behind me." Chris choked on his pasta. After a few coughs to clear his airway he asked, "how did you even see that guy?" The man in the blue suit was sitting alone, two tables back. Chris was directly facing him and had a clear view of him, but that meant he was directly behind Kara. "I saw him when I came in," she explained. "He's the only guy in here by himself and sort of stands out. I confess, I was already planning to play the Island Game with you." "I think that's cheating," Chris grinned. "It's proper planning." "Fair enough. So why him?" "Well, he's clearly the successful type," she said. "That suit is Armani, probably silk, and definitely expensive. It's tailored to him, too. He looks like he's only in his mid-twenties so to have a suit like that he's had to have made some good or smart decisions in his life. Maybe he came out of high school with a scholarship to a good school, graduated, and got a good paying job. I think it's good to have someone successful on your side." Chris nodded not knowing what to say. "Hey. do you know him?" "What? No," Chris lied. "You seemed pretty shocked when I picked him." "Oh, I was just surprised because I was going to pick him next. That's twice in a row you've managed to do that is all," He lied again. She started laughing. "You wanted the lumberjack too?" "The man is probably strong enough to make a cave by punching a stone wall. That is not a talent you turn down on a desert island." After a minute of quietly laughing, Kara said, "So it's time for the final round. Who's going to be the last person on your team?" "Well since you took who I was going to pick, I guess I'll settle for you." "Me? That's normally against the rules." "I like to make my own rules as I go. Besides, I think we make a good team." he said, earning him another smile and a slight blush. "I think so too. In that case, I think I guess I'll have to pick you for my last person as well." "You sound so excited about that." He joked. "To be fair I wasn't just your third choice but your backup third choice. Not a lot of brownie points for that, Chris." She quipped back. "But there are some brownie points, right? Go team." The ice broken, they continued talking. Their conversation went seamlessly from topic to topic with little lags between. Twenty minutes later, Chris noticed the man in the blue suit getting his check. "Hey Kara, I'm going to go see if my friend that works here is in the back. I want to tell him thanks for dinner. You mind waiving the waiter down and asking for the check? I'll pay once I get back." Kara shrugged, "Sure, it's not a problem. Maybe next time I can meet your friend?" "Sure," he told her. Chris hated being rude. Chris walked into the kitchen and spotted a cook by an industrial dish washer. For show he asked if his old schoolmate was working tonight. "No, he won't be in again until Sunday." Chris already knew that but feigned disappointment. "Too bad. Well either way, the food was great. Thank you." "Oh no, thank you. It's my pleasure." "Hey, do you mind if I slip out the back door really quick? Don't want my girlfriend to see me smoking." He even winked to lay it on thick. "No problem, it's unlocked so you can come back through this way when you're done." Chris gave his thanks and walked out the door. Turning the corner, he headed toward the parking lot. Moving quickly, he opened his trunk and pulled out a tire iron. Leaving the trunk cracked open an inch, he crouched next to his rear passenger tire and waited. Whenever he heard footsteps, Chris would begin loosening the lug nuts, only to retighten them as the person passed. The man in the blue suit was parked to the right of Chris' car. When he walked up, he thought nothing of Chris trying to change a flat tire. Chris made sure no one else was in the parking lot. Everything had worked in his favor tonight, but if the two of them weren't alone then none of it would matter. The man in the blue suit was Daniel Lento. Danny had done well for himself in his short 26 years, but not the way Kara guessed. He didn't do well in school; in fact, he dropped out at 17. Instead, he did well procuring young women for older, lonely men. As a pimp, he was a dime a dozen, and no one really cared about him. Danny didn't seem to think he was making enough money, though. He wanted to expand. Some pimps would try to get more girls working under them or beat fear into the ones they had to make them work harder. Danny had a better idea. He started marketing to wives. If a woman wanted a divorce but wanted to make sure they got most of the pot in the separation, Danny would send a girl to seduce the husband. A few tasteful photos from a hidden camera would be sent to the wife to be used during the divorce agreements. Afterward, Danny would get twenty thousand dollars and first claim on any of the husband's materials left behind. For example, light blue silk suits worth a couple thousand dollars. The parking lot was empty when Danny left the restaurant. Chris' luck had held, which meant Danny's had run out. Once he walked past, Chris pulled a small ice pick out of his pocket he'd stolen from the dishwasher while talking to the cook. The tool was only a few inches long, but it would do its job. Chris rose quickly and reached around to grab Danny's forehead. Chris' hand was large enough to cover his entire face. Before Danny could yelp Chris pulled him backward, slamming the back of his head into the ice pick. He quickly jerked the pick in various directions to make sure Danny's brainstem was completely severed. He died quickly and without much knowledge of what was going on around him. Chris held him in one arm and opened his trunk with the other. Careful not to get blood on himself, he lay the lifeless body inside the trunk. In preparation for the evening Chris had lined the trunk with plastic, so he wasn't too worried about getting blood everywhere. He wiped the ice pick on Danny's suit, blue mixing with crimson, and put it back in his pocket. When he went back through the kitchen, he left it on a counter. Any evidence would be cleaned by the unknowing dishwasher. I don't think I've ever seen an ice pick used to actually break ice. Even in movies it's just a murder weapon, he mused while walking through the kitchen. Chris didn't particularly mind what Danny did for a living. He actually thought it was a smart play on a niche market. However, Danny was meeting the wife of an incredibly wealthy judge on Friday. She had been too open with her plans and word had gotten to her husband via her coworker, who happened to also be his mistress. His honor did not want that meeting to happen. The judge contacted a member of the local crime family. They put the word out that they were looking for someone outside the family. If things went wrong, they didn't want the judge being connected with the family in any way. Christopher heard about the job while in a sports bar. At first, he thought about the job only as if it was a puzzle to solve. Something to keep his mind occupied during otherwise dull days. It didn't take him long to come up with a lot of ways to kill someone without leaving evidence. Realizing he might have a knack for this type of work, he came to the decision that he was going to open his own business. He had called Danny a week ago. Using a fake name, he made an appointment for dinner tonight. He was supposed to pretend to be a client, trying to find a date but wanting to make sure all the details were right, and his privacy was guaranteed. Danny must have been used to those types of arrangements because he agreed without hesitating. Instead of meeting him, and risk being recognized as the last person to see him alive, Chris called Kara for a date instead. He waved at the cook he had spoken to before and headed back to the table. Kara was up, purse in hand, ready to leave. "I told you I'd pay." "You can get the next date," she told him. "It's the 21st century, us girls can pay from time to time." "Well let me walk you to your car at least," he said, offering his arm to hold. She accepted his offer, and they walked out the door. Her car was at the front of the lot, saving him from explaining which car was his. He didn't want to explain having a different vehicle on their next date. "It was a fun night, Chris." He gave her a hug and a small kiss on the cheek. "Yes, it was. Next time will be better." "I hope so." Chris opened her door for her. "Drive safe." After she left, Chris got back in the sedan and drove to a warehouse to drop off the body. He spent an hour cleaning the car, just in case, and drove it back to Hertz. Chris and Kara's relationship lasted a few months. There were no arguments leading up to the breakup. It was simply a mutual loss of interest. Chris' business, however, flourished. Expertly completing a contract, with no witnesses or evidence and ahead of schedule, helped spread word in the right places that he was a quality contractor. Business boomed.