The Third Eye

There's a good chance, you reason to yourself, that Tony has no idea who you are. He may just be in a generous mood. You can identify with such a feeling-after all, you've just made a killing. On the other hand, for a man who didn't get the money he was expecting today, he does seem a little too happy. Luckily for you, though, you don't have to torture yourself with questions. You look boldly into his slate-colored eyes.

Tony is thinking fast. You see immediately that he has been sizing you up from every angle since his arrival. He could almost smell that there was something not quite right about you, that you were hiding something, despite the fact that all you'd done was order a drink and scope out the bar. It's a good thing that few people are as observant as Tony. It's also a good thing that his interest in you seems to be of an almost friendly nature. Could it be? He wants to recruit you! Oh man! All you wanted was to go out, get blasted, and get laid. But now you're stuck.

"My name's Jack," you say as calmly as you can, giving Tony your best genuine-looking smile. You pride yourself on your ability to stay calm in tense situations. However, you notice with some disgust that your palms are sweating.

"Jack," Tony says, dragging out the "a" like he doubts it. "Tell me something, Jack. Do you like the idea of making a little extra cash now and then?"

Feigning surprise, you look again into his eyes. Every single thought in his mind is focused directly on you. There's nothing concrete really, just a series of impressions which Tony seems to be stacking on his mental scales. You understand that these scales will eventually tip in your favor or against it. Your hands now feel numb as they dangle limply at your sides.

"Sure I do," you laugh. "Who doesn't?"

"Smart answer, kid. I'm a man of means and there's a little job I'd like to have done. Nothin' serious, but I can't do it myself, you see."

"Uh huh." Looking at him, you're disappointed to see that his mind is almost completely blank. The bastard has amazing mental control.

"All right, Jackie, it's like this. You see this guy?" He quickly pulls out a picture from his wallet and shows it to you. It's none other than that poor scumbag who couldn't manage to get Tony's briefcase back from you, even though he had you at gunpoint. You can't help but smile a little.

"Yeah, I know he's no looker," Tony continues, closing his wallet with a resounding snap. "He works for me, but his performance has been, how can I say…disappointing. I don't like to be suspicious or anything, but I'd like to know what it is he's doing when he's not doing what he should be doing. Capiche?"

"You want me to keep an eye on him."

"I could see you were smart," Tony says with a smile. Some touchingly paternal thoughts glimmer in his eyes. "It's just for one day. I'll give you his address and everything you need to know. You can keep a real low profile, but I need to know where he goes, when, and what kind of people he's talking to. For your services, I'd be willing to give you five hundred dollars." He looks shiftily around the bar, but you can clearly see that he's not actually afraid of anything. He probably owns the whole place, and everybody in it too.

You think slyly to yourself that five hundred bucks is a tiny little pittance compared to how much you just fleeced off old Tony earlier today. It's a damn good thing he can't read your thoughts.

Your smirk fades a little when you begin to consider the seriousness of this choice. If you go to work for Tony, you could probably move quickly up the ranks and make a nice steady income. On the other hand, you'll have to deal quickly with the two people in his gang who recognize you and do a damn good job of cleaning up the money trail leading to that tasty ten thousand. Plus, your low-profile, just-scraping-by existence hasn't been so bad. Do you really want to become a mafioso, with all its associated dangers and, even worse, responsibilities? If you want out, now is the time to say so.