Buffalo City Czar



Beautiful long-stemmed red and white roses filled the Hilton Hotel suite. It was the perfect gift. In fact, the whole day had been perfect. I am the luckiest man on Earth, Mr. Jones thought as he wrapped his arm around his new bride, Mrs. Jones.

The newlyweds looked out the window from the living room of their hotel suite. They saw the ocean in the distance and the graceful outline of the tiny islands that surrounded the Hawaii coast.

Moments ago, they had said their “goodnights” and “thanks for coming” to 105 guests at the hotel’s wedding. It was finally all over, the wedding and pictures, toasting, hugging, and socializing. Just me and my wife, Mr. Jones thought as he reached for the pair of crystal champagne glasses on the table. He extended one to his wife.

“This is incredible,” Mrs. Jones said, “I wouldn’t change a single thing about today.”

“Neither would I,” Mr. Jones softly whispered in his wife’s ear while holding her close from behind.  “Let’s toast,” he said and raised his glass. He stared into his wife’s almond colored eyes and smiled.

The phone rang, but neither of them had heard it. They were too engrossed in each other to hear anything but the waves of the ocean.

Mrs. Jones smiled back and raised her glass. They crossed their arms and stared into each other’s eyes.

“For better or worse,” he said to her.

“Until death do us apart.”

They both downed their glasses of Dom Perignon Oenotheque, and then embraced for a long juicy kiss.

Mr. Jones was the first to break away. “I have something for you.” He was excited, and then said, “Have a seat, I’ll be right back.”

Buffalo-City-CzarHe hurried to the master bedroom to retrieve his wife’s surprise from his luggage. He tossed the designer suitcase on the bed and unzipped it. This was their last night at the hotel before they left for the Caribbean Islands, so most their clothing had been packed away already.

Right where he had left it, on top of his clothes sat a rectangular shaped, black suede jewelry box. He proudly smiled, opened the box, and then inspected its contents. Satisfied, he closed the box and began zipping the suitcase when he suddenly remembered the kilo of coke he had ingeniously disguised at the bottom of his luggage. He pushed his clothes aside and quickly grabbed the coke that he had poured into a Johnson and Johnson baby powder container. He popped the cap of the container then expertly stuck his long nailed pinky finger inside of the container. He scooped up a hefty mound of the raw Peruvian flake and deeply inhaled the white powder.” Damn, this shit is good,” he thought, and then did the same to the other nostril. He almost choked as he was interrupted in the middle of taking another hit.

“Babe, what’s taking you so long?” The new bride grew impatient and yelled from the living room.

In a strained voice, he answered, “Just hold your horses’ baby. I’ll be there in a second.” He snapped the cap back onto the container, secured the coke back into its place, and covered it with his folded clothes. He hurried to the master bathroom and examined himself in the mirror. He had to rid himself of any evidence. His eyes were glossy and his nasal passage was completely numb. Mr. Jones turned the water on and splashed some on his face. When he was done, he grabbed the hand towel and pat dried his face.

He whispered, “Now that’s better,” and then squeezed his nostrils to ease the burn. Intoxicated, he smiled at himself in the mirror, and then blew himself a conceited kiss. On his way out of the bathroom, he picked up the jewelry box off the bed, and then peeked out of the bedroom doorway. He instructed her, “Close your eyes baby, and get ready for your surprise.”

“This had better be one damn good surprise. You’ve given so much in our life, and today was already beyond over the top.” Nevertheless, she obediently did as she was told. 

“I always give you exquisite surprises,” he thought, stood behind his wife’s chair and placed the jewelry box on top of her lap. “OK, open up.”

She opened her eyes and saw the black sued jewelry box. Inscribed in gold letters were the words, I Love You. “Baby you shouldn’t have. You’ve already given me all that I need.” However, that did not stop her from squealing and squirming in her seat with excitement. Not to mention the drumming of her feet against the plush carpeted floor. She was like a child opening a Christmas gift. Paradise was the one word that could fully describe what he had bought her.

The reflection from the overhead lighting bounced sparkles off the three-Carat flawless diamond studded bracelet. “Awe, baby thank you so much. I love you, too.” She stood, wrapped her arms around her husband’s neck then laid her head on his shoulders and cried.

“What’s wrong baby?” he asked, and peeled his wife’s vice-like grip from around his neck. He wiped the falling tears from her face. “You’re not happy.”

“That’s just it, baby, I am happy,” she managed to talk through steady sobs, “I’m so happy that I never want this day to end.”

“Look at me baby,” he said, and then cradled his wife’s face in the palm of his hands. “I promise you that every day we are together I’ll do my best to make that day better than the last. I love you more than life itself and would hand you the world on a silver platter if I thought for one minute that that was what you wanted.”

“I know baby. You’re just so good to me.”

“That’s because I love you. Now wipe those tears from your eyes, and show daddy what you working with under that wedding gown.”

She managed to smile at her husband’s silly antics. He always knew what to say to make her smile.

In a childlike voice she whined. “Okay, Daddy. Put some music on.” She was more than willing to please her husband, no matter what he wanted her to do.

Mr. Jones grabbed the remote to the CD player and pressed play. His favorite mixed CD was already in the player. Reasons by Earth, Wind, & Fire blared through the speakers.

Slowly, she peeled off her wedding gown and gyrated her curvaceous hips to the smooth groove. He sat back on the chair that his wife had been sitting on, and tried with no success to stay focused on her stripper dance. However, his mind continued to drift back and forth to the coke in his luggage and his lovely wife until his entire attention remained focused on the events of the past year. The events which eventually led to their fleeing from the life of the organization.

He had stolen $250,000 from the stash house plus the money he had been stealing over the year that totaled over four million dollars in cash. In addition, he had stolen three kilos of coke all for his personal use. He planned to settle down and raise a family. Ever since he had met his wife, a year and a half ago, his whole life had changed. Together, they had secretly planned to steal the money and disappear. She knew nothing about the coke in his luggage not even of his snorting habits. Right then, he wanted another hit.

Earth, Wind, & Fire continued to fill the air. Mrs. Jones was down to her pink, silk Victoria Secret lingerie, and four inch stiletto heels. She continued her seductive strip dance, standing directly in front of her husband. She turned her back to him and dropped to the floor in a squat position, grabbed both her ankles and slowly straightened her legs out until they were fully extended. Her backside stared right into his face. She held herself there long enough for him to pull her thong aside and stick his tongue deep into the crevices of her moist vagina. Aroused, she pushed herself back at his probing tongue.

Excited, she urged him on, “Ooh, yes daddy. Get it.”

The phone rang again. This time they both heard it, but decided not to answer it. He was too busy trying hard to come out of his tuxedo, and she was lusting for him to enter her.

Her emoting encouraged him to hungrily lap at his wife’s love box. When she felt herself about to climax, she released her ankles and half way raised her upper body, then arched her back. She then reached behind her, grabbed the back of her husband’s head, and held it there while she bounced backwards and came all over his face.

Passionately she yelled while having multiple orgasms, “Yes, Yes, Yes. Ahh Yes Daddy.”

When Mr. Jones finally pulled his face away he looked like a Got Milk commercial, and his wife smiled as she reached for one of the napkins on the table.

“Sorry baby.” Mrs. Jones giggled as she wiped her love juices from around her husband’s mouth. “Thank you, by the way,” she said and smiled. She straddled his lap and unhooked her bra. Without a care in the world she tossed it over her shoulder. Her coconut sized breast stood erect, and her nipples were a half inch long.

She cupped her left breast with her left hand, and with her right hand, she placed it on the nape of his neck and guided his head towards her wanting nipple. Meanwhile, she was grinding on the bulge in his pants. He went from nipple to nipple and made sure to nurture each one pleasingly. Slowly, he traced each one with his tongue while singer Lenny Williams’s I Love You began to play.

Standing up, he cupped her juicy round ass with one cheek in each palm of his hand. Protectively, he laid her down on the hotel carpet, and kneeled between her short sexy legs. He gently placed one upon each of his shoulders. Then he slowly removed her silk thong and tossed it to the side.

The phone rang a third time.

Angrily, he growled. “Somebody is about to get cursed the hell out.” Pissed off, he got up from the floor leaving his wife sprawled out across it with her legs wide open.

The phone stopped and then there was a knock at the door.

“What the fuck,” he said, and motioned for her to go to the bedroom.

She pouted but did what she was told. This was the moment that she had waited for all evening. All she wanted to do was make love to her husband and cuddle in his arms all night.

Mr. Jones angrily yelled through the door as he peeped through the peephole. “Who is it?”

“Champagne Sir, compliments of the house.”  He saw the desk clerk in his Hilton Hotel get up. The young man stood there smiling. He looked fresh out of college.

When he opened the door, the man said, “Congratulations sir,” and passed the groom a fresh bottle of boxed champagne.

The guest inspected the gold box with black lettering that read, Krug Clos Du Mesnil 1989. “Damn,” he whispered, and then said, “Y’all sure know how to treat your guests. French champagne?”

It was a rhetorical question so he wasn’t expecting an answer. Instead, he reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a wad of bills intending to give the man a tip. In the back of his mind, he just wanted to get rid of the boy, and get back to his waiting wife.

“No need sir.” The boy held up his hand and protested. “Like I said before, it’s a compliment, on the house.”

“Alright then, Thanks.”

With nothing else to talk about, Mr. Jones had other business to handle so he began to close the door.

However, the young man’s alerting voice stopped him. “Oh yes, there is one other thing sir.”

Mr. Jones was forced to open the door wider. He asked, “And what’s that?” He was puzzled.

The man smiled and said, “Render unto Caesar, what belongs to Caesar.” The hotel clerk let off three shots from a silenced nine-millimeter concealed beneath the white towel draped across his forearms.

Mr. Jones fell backwards and clutched the wound in his stomach. He saw the blood oozing out, and had the saddest look on his face. His only regret was that he was not going to be able to protect his wife. He knew it from the moment that he had been shot, his life was over. 

The shooter stepped into the hotel suit and closed the door behind him. He had instructions to kill two targets. 

His second target heard the popping noises followed by a thump. She then threw back the covers, got out of bed and walked to the bedroom entrance.

Nervously she peeked out the door, and asked, “Babe is everything alright?”

Naked, she stepped into the living room. When she saw the white man in the hotel uniform she gasped. Embarrassed, she tried to cover herself with her hands and arms, but her attempts were unsuccessful.

She said, “Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t know you were in here.” She then looked around the room for her husband. Her eyes landed on her spouse who was curled up in a fetal position on the floor by the door. He was in a puddle of blood that formed around his lifeless body. Immediately, she felt ill, and her legs became weak. Movement from the man in uniform broke her from her trance, again she gasped. 

Frightened, she thought, “This can’t be happening to me.” She fixed her mouth to scream but nothing came out.

When the man saw the beautiful, voluptuous black woman, he almost regretted having to kill her. So he made it quick. One shot to the head, just when she was about to scream. Her body crumbled to the floor, and then the man in uniform knelt down beside her lifeless body.

He said, “Now that didn’t hurt much. Now, did it?” The man then gently brushed the loose hairs from across her face to behind her ears with the silenced nine millimeter.

After he finished examining her dead body, he walked over to her spouse, and felt for a pulse. He was alive. The man placed the tip of the silencer to his victim’s temple and without a thought, he squeezed the trigger.

He didn’t want his contract surviving on him. That would be bad for his business. He was trained to kill and had never had a victim survive his attack. He took every precaution to ensure that his victims were not breathing. The assassin pulled out a hanky, opened the door, and looked both ways down the hallway before he wiped down both sides of the doorknobs. He then stepped back inside to retrieve the bottle of champagne. For just a moment, he stopped what he was doing to listen to the sweet sounds of Billy Paul’s, me and Mrs. Jones now blaring out the CD player’s speakers.

“How ironic,” he said, and closed the door. He headed for the service elevator singing the song.


Once outside, the killer drove his rental car straight to the airport. He parked it in the Hertz parking area. Before he got out of the car, he took the gun out of his waistline, wiped it down, and then wrapped it up inside of a McDonald’s paper bag. Before he entered the terminal, he tossed the McDonald’s bag into the outside trash bin. He checked his watch; smiled and thought, everything had worked out well. I timed my kill perfectly, and my plane to LAX should be departing in thirty minutes. 

He patiently waited at the boarding gate, then pulled out his cell phone and entered a text to his employer. It was one word: DONE!

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Angie's Diary