I Hate Meetings

Seriously. They are a pain in my back side.

Doubtless, my humble audience took note of my week-long absence. Jessica and I had business to attend to, so unfortunately, the next entry in Bradley's journal isn't ready for the world just yet. More than likely, it will go up tomorrow night. Things are settling down for us. That meeting on the south side went...well, south, frankly.

We met up with this Michael bloke down south, surrounded by warehouses and dank little office buildings. The area was mostly abandoned. I know that more than a few homeless people squat in those warehouses, which is why it's generally safe to operate from there without worrying about the police nosing in on business.

Jessica doesn't have much good sense, if you ask me, to be going in with this guy. I don't like the look of him. He's quiet, pale, with the sort of attitude only the real killers have to them. Only brought a handful of guys with him down south. He's not like Jessica, he's very well put together, but I think there's no soul under there.

Not to imply that Jessica has anything even remotely approaching a soul. She doesn't. She is an animal, though, while this guy seems more machine than anything else. He gives me the willies. 

Anyway, from what Jessica tells me, she's been collaborating with Michael on a few projects...moving money around, mostly...the details will become my problem when she deigns to let me in on them later. He's fairly small-time, but his resources and a couple of his connections are very useful. From what I understand, he runs a printing press for counterfeit cash, which is something Jessica is interested in putting to use. I don't blame her, but I think we could find better guys to do the work for less somewhere else. Oh well.

Somehow, the police got wind of our little meet-up, though. Things got very nasty very quickly, and many bullet holes were made. Many teeth holes were also made, by Jessica, naturally. I had never seen a cop literally shit himself before Jessica charged one of the SWAT guys head-on. The stench was awful. She tackled him to the ground before he had a chance to get a single shot off and tore him to bits, the poor bastard.

That must be how she keeps our boys in line. I wouldn't have believed it was possible, but Jessica has this way about her... men with guns may as well be deer in headlights once she starts after them. I think mostly, she scares people so bad because who would be crazy enough to charge someone with a loaded gun?

Jessica Carter. That's who.

We're supposed to have dinner with Michael on Saturday night, to make up for plans falling apart this first time around. Should be much more relaxed than the shady dealings in dark alleys. I hope there aren't anymore fire-fights. I'm too old for this crap. I'm working on getting some of our boys to look into whether or not it was one of ours that leaked info to the cops. One of Michael's guys has been harassing us about it. I'm just about to blow his head off myself, I'm so sick of the guy. But oh well. 

So, as I said, I don't have the next journal entry ready, but if I'm lucky there will be time for that tomorrow night. If I'm doubly lucky, there will be absolutely nothing of interest to report about dinner with Michael on Saturday. I'm not looking forward to convincing Jessica to eat normal people food.

-Mr. Flint