Billion Dollar Smile
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It’s hard to not smile when you have a billion dollars in the bank account thought Billy, looking at his reflection. The mirror showed him a young man with bright blue eyes and brown hair that had just begun to gray around the temples.
It was the kind of face that could easily charm people into doing what he wanted them to do. And it did, all day long, every single day. He’d been using that power for over forty years now, ever since he inherited the fortune from his grandfather.
That first year as an adult, he went out and spent money like water—on clothes, cars, jewelry, trips, parties… anything and everything he desired. Now he used those same powers for more noble purposes. Like funding charities.
But his heart wasn’t in it anymore; he still enjoyed spending his time on his own terms. So much so, that he even allowed himself to take some days off from work once in a while, something unheard of in the business world.
He looked down at the diamond ring on his finger and smiled again. A simple band but one that cost him a fortune. His fiancée didn’t want anything extravagant; she was happy to spend her life with him without having to worry about material things. She knew how to keep the sparkle in his eyes. They were planning their wedding later this month.
“Hey! I’m calling your name!” said a voice.
Billy turned away from the mirror to see two women standing there waiting for him to respond. One was tall and thin with dark blond hair. The other woman was shorter with light brown skin and black hair pulled up high on top of her head.
Both wore dresses made of expensive fabric, but neither looked quite right. They were both too pale, or perhaps too tan? No matter how he looked at it, they didn’t look quite right. “Sorry,” he answered. “I was lost in my thoughts.”
The taller woman frowned. “That happens sometimes when we’re working.” Her frown deepened. “But you should be paying attention to us because…”
She trailed off, staring at him intently. “You can help me,” she added softly.
What was she talking about? “Help you?”
Both women nodded.
“How?” asked Billy, wondering if he’d heard correctly. Helping these two women sounded ridiculous.
They glanced at each other and then back at him. “We need your help,” repeated the short one. “To get our husbands out of jail.”
“Jail?”
“Yes, jail,” said the other woman.
“Why would I—”
“Because they killed someone, dear.”
“Killed someone?”
“A very important person.”
“Who?”
Neither woman replied.
“Look, I don’t know who you are—”
“My name is Darlene,” said the taller woman, “and this is my best friend, Sandy.”
“Nice to meet you,” said Billy, extending his hand toward each woman in turn. Neither took the offered handshake. Instead, they stared at him. “Now tell me exactly why you think I’ll be able to bail your men out of prison.”
“There’s no way you’ll believe us,” said Sandy. “If you even hear us out, that is.”
“Maybe not,” agreed Darlene, “but maybe we can convince you otherwise. What harm does it do?”
“Nothing,” said Billy. “But I’m still going to ask questions before agreeing to help you.”
Darlene shrugged. “Ask all you want.”
Sandy shook her head. “Let’s go somewhere private where we can talk.”
Billy nodded. “Fine by me. Let me grab my coat.”
As soon as he stepped outside his office, he saw them walking away across the street. How odd, he thought, seeing the women heading straight for the town’s most notorious bar. Why would anyone willingly walk through its front door?
If he hadn’t known better, he’d say they were being chased by the police. Or worse yet, the killer. Did either woman realize that the man behind bars was probably responsible for the murder? Was that why they were here? To find out who actually committed the crime?
Or was there another reason?
“Don’t move!” shouted a man.
“Stop right there!” called another.
Billy froze, holding his hat under his arm and turning to look at the men running after them. All three wore dark suits with hats pulled low over their brows. Two carried pistols while the third held a rifle. As the trio closed in on the two women, they stopped abruptly. They seemed surprised to have run into such an unexpected obstacle.
“Drop the guns,” ordered the leader of the group, pointing at Billy.
Before he could answer, the man fired a shot. It hit Billy in the shoulder. He cried out, dropping his hat. But instead of falling to the ground like everyone else had expected, Billy remained standing.
“Stand aside!” yelled the man in the lead.
Billy did what he was told, stepping aside to let the man pass. After the man passed, Billy walked over to where the second shooter stood watching. “Didn’t expect me to stand there,” said Billy, “did ya?”
The gunman’s gun lowered slightly. “No.”
“So much for your surprise attack,” said Billy.
The gunmen exchanged glances.
“Who sent you?” asked the man in the lead.
Billy waited until the three men were well past him before answering. “Does it matter?”
“It might if you want to live.”
“Tell you what,” said Billy, picking up his hat. “Since you came so close to killing me, you must really hate me. Maybe we shouldn’t kill each other just yet. We could wait until you’re alone, then take turns shooting each other in the head. That way, we’d all die together.”
“You’re crazy,” said the man, lowering his weapon again.
“Just trying to make conversation.”
The three men turned away from Billy without another word, leaving him standing there in the middle of the street.
***
Billy sat on the porch steps, leaning against the railing as he watched the sun set over the plains. The sky was painted red, purple, and orange—a spectacular show of color that made him feel peaceful. Not once since he arrived in Kansas City had he felt any peace.
In fact, he rarely felt anything but anxiety. Until now. Now, sitting on this porch, surrounded by trees and grass, he finally felt contentment.
He didn’t understand how that was possible considering the events of the day, but somehow it was. And it wasn’t only because he’d survived a bullet wound. There was something about this house—the way it looked, the smell of wood and leaves—that calmed him down. Could it be that he loved this place already? He couldn’t remember ever loving anything or anyone so quickly.
How strange, he thought, staring at the setting sun. When will I learn that nothing comes easily?
At least the bullet missed his heart. At least he wouldn’t be dead, which was more than many others would give themselves credit for.
“Are you sure you don’t want some coffee?” asked Mrs. Robinson.
She brought him a cup filled with hot black liquid.
“Thank you,” said Billy.
“I heard what happened today,” she said quietly, taking a seat beside him.
“Yeah. So did you.”
“Why do you think these people are looking for you?”
“That’s a good question. No one knows what they want except for me. Do you know?”
“Not exactly, but I’ve been thinking about it all day. You see, Mr. Adams has a reputation around these parts for doing things no one else is willing to do. Things that nobody else dares to touch. He takes jobs that are too dangerous for others to even consider.”
“And that includes me,” added Billy, sipping the steaming beverage.
Mrs. Robinson nodded. “Exactly. Which means he also takes the risk of getting killed.” She paused, looking at Billy closely. “Do you know what I think?”
“What?”
“I think the reason why those gunmen were after you is that they wanted to stop you from stopping Mr. Adams from doing whatever he does. Because if you succeeded, the whole town would lose its biggest asset. Everyone would suffer. Even me.”
“But I’m not going to succeed,” said Billy, shaking his head. “This time, I won’t get caught. This time, I’ll be careful.”
“You never can tell. These gunmen were obviously determined.”
“Yes, they were determined,” said Billy. “Too bad their determination failed them.”
“They still have one advantage.”
“Which is?”
“Mr. Adams is the only one who can help them find you. They have to come here first. If they don’t, then they can search anywhere in America without success.”
Billy stared into his mug. “Maybe they should try searching somewhere outside of Kansas City. Maybe someone else would help them.”
“Where else would they look? What else could they possibly do?”
“If I knew what they could do, maybe I’d figure out how to stop them.”
“Then why don’t you ask?”
“Ask who?”
“Yourself. Why aren’t you asking yourself?”
“Because I don’t know myself.”
“Don’t say that. You’re better off knowing.”
“Better off knowing what?”
“Everything! Don’t you realize you’ve got everything to gain by learning the truth?”
“Like what?”
“Well, let’s start with your name.”
“My real name?”
“No, the false one you used when you took that job. It’s important.”
Billy sighed heavily before answering her. “It doesn’t matter anymore. My name is Billy Cartwright.”
“Doesn’t sound like much of a secret.”
“That’s because it isn’t.”
“So, Billy Cartwright is a fake name, huh? But who gave you that name?”
“Who cares?”
“Me, for instance. I care. Your mother probably cared. And your father, too, although I doubt he knows about this alias.”
“My mother died giving birth to me. That’s the last thing either my mother or father saw.”
“Yet another mystery surrounding you.”
“There’s a lot about me that no one knows.”
“Is that true? Did you really kill two men in Montana?”
“Only one man, but yes, I shot him.”
“Was it self-defense?”
“Self-defense is a defense against an attack on others. It’s a moral issue. I didn’t shoot anyone just so I could live longer.”
“Did you have any choice?”
“Of course, I had a choice.”
“Did you have a choice as to whether or not you’d take the job?”
“The answer is still no.”
“So, there’s no way you could have refused.”
“Define refusal. I didn’t refuse anything.”
“How did you get the money?”
“A friend loaned it to me.”
“Who was the friend?”
“None of your business.”
“I guess we’ll never know.”
“We might.”
“Would you mind telling us?”
“Nope.”
“All right. We’ll leave it at that. Now, let’s talk about something else.”
“Such as?”
“Let’s talk about me. How long have I known you?”
“Three months. Two and a half weeks to be exact.”
“And yet I already feel close to you. Like I’ve known you forever.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Just feels that way, I suppose.”
“Perhaps it’s because you’ve seen me through some difficult times. Or perhaps it’s because you’ve been helping me.”
“Helping you how?”
“By being here for me. By making sure I don’t give up. When you were with me all those years ago, I thought you were God. I prayed every night for your help. You helped me keep going. You kept me alive.”
“And now I’m trying to do the same for you.”
“Thanks to you, I haven’t given up yet. Not completely anyway. But I can’t promise that I won’t eventually quit. All I can do is hope that I will.”
“Hope is all you need, son. Hope and faith. Keep hoping.”
“I will,” said Billy, raising his mug again.
***
After breakfast the next morning, Billy left for work. He went down the front steps, crossed the street, and headed west toward the railroad yard. After crossing the tracks, he entered a narrow alley between two warehouses.
There, he ducked inside a doorway and waited. The warehouse door swung open and he stepped across the threshold. A few minutes later, two gunmen appeared from behind the stacks of boxes and followed him into the warehouse. They led him upstairs where they tied his hands with rope and secured him to a wooden chair.
One of the gunmen stood beside Billy. “What are you doing?” asked Billy. “You can’t tie me up!”
“Shut up, Cartwright.”
“This is illegal!”
“Shut up, Cartwright.”
“I demand to see a judge!”
“Shut up, Cartwright.”
“Do you hear me?”
“Shut up, Cartwright.”
“This is wrong! This is—”
“Shut up, Cartwright.”
“Listen to me, both of you!” shouted Billy, pounding the table. “You’re going to kill me if you don’t let me go!”
“Shut up, Cartwright!”
“You can’t tie me up without a warrant! You can’t hold me, hostage, without a court order! And you can’t shoot me without due process!”
Both gunmen looked ready to fire their weapons. One pointed his gun at Billy’s head while the other aimed at the ceiling.
Billy stopped pounding the table. His eyes filled with tears. “Please…please…just let me go…”
They ignored him.
Neither gunman spoke. Both seemed frozen.
Suddenly, one of them turned away. He walked over to the wall, pulled out a revolver, and placed it under his belt. Then he returned to Billy.
“Sorry, Cartwright,” said the shooter who remained by the table. “But I think it would be better if you stayed quiet.”
He raised the muzzle of his weapon.
“No, wait,” begged Billy. “Wait! Please…wait…stop…don’t—”
With a quick motion, he shot Billy in the chest.
It happened so fast. In the blink of an eye, Billy fell to the floor dead.
For a moment, silence reigned.
Then the gunmen lowered their guns, grabbed Billy’s body, and carried him out the back door. They threw him onto the loading platform and dragged him outside. As soon as they got clear of the warehouse, they ran down the stairs and jumped on board a train bound for Cheyenne.
The men climbed off the train and walked toward the town square. It was a small, dusty town, surrounded by low mountains. The buildings were mostly old structures, built more than a century before. Many of them had burned during the Civil War or had fallen victim to earthquakes. Those that remained standing were dilapidated.
A group of three men approached from the opposite direction. They wore gray suits, dark hats, and sunglasses. Two were tall, thin men; one short, stocky man. Their clothing fit tightly around their bodies, suggesting they might be wearing bulletproof vests underneath their jackets.
As soon as they spotted the gunmen, they stopped walking.
The shorter man took a step forward. “Where did you dump the body?”
“We dumped him at the edge of the town square, just like we agreed,” replied the taller man.
“Good. We’ll have someone meet us there.”
The three men continued down the road.
When they reached the square, the three men moved closer to the men they suspected were killers.
“Are you sure this is the place?” asked one of the men.
“Yes, sir,” answered the shooter. “Just look for a blue blanket.”
“Blue blanket?”
“Yeah. That’s what the boss called it when we brought the boy here yesterday afternoon. Blue blanket.”
“Okay. Just remember, the boss wants no blood stains anywhere near the body.”
“Understood.”
The gunman put his hand under the hem of the blanket and lifted it above the corpse’s head. At first, all the men saw was a black-and-white blanket stained with dirt and dust. But then a splash of red caught everyone’s attention. Blood dripped from the end of Billy’s nose. The gunman tossed the cloth aside.
“Let’s get moving,” said the tall man. “If anyone sees us now, it won’t be good for our business.”
The three men walked to a nearby car and drove out of town. They didn’t return until late afternoon.
The End