Confessions of a Source


I check my watch. Two hours.  It’s been two hours of waiting in this swanky hotel bar. As time passed, I grew more and more suspicious of everything and everyone around me. Why is it so dark in here?  Where is the barkeep?  Who’s playing the piano?  Why is he blind? What’s his problem? The questions raged on.

This is the life of a source…

I didn’t pick this life. It just happened. When I was three years old, my father took me to the county fair. We were suddenly stopped by a legless old man. He pointed at me and shouted “UMQULAKIA!” I turned to my father and asked what it meant.

“Source” my father said as he began to weep.


“Wait for a sign” the text said.

What sign?

As I continued to sip on my old fashioned, the most beautiful woman I had ever seen walked into the room. She  was wearing a bright red dress and black high heels.  Her eyes met mine as she walked my direction and finally took the seat next to mine. She spoke.

source ya

“You’re foolish for showing your face.”

Her Russian accent caught me off guard

“What am I doing here?”

She leaned in close to me and whispered in my ear.

“Woj sends his regards.”

She kissed me on the mouth and walked away.  The kiss lasted 17 seconds. I counted and it was awesome.

My confusion grew as I wondered what had just happened. What did it mean? What message was Woj trying to send? Did he want to to kiss me?  All questions – no answers. I realized my drink would be running low soon. I told the barkeep I’d have another.

“You need to slow down, son.”

“I can’t slow down” as I looked away. “I’m a source.” 

I took one last swig as I felt a large object hit the back of my thought.  I instantly spit the thing out.

A rubber ducky?  How the hell did that get in my drink?

“You kiddin’ me?” said the barkeep. “That’s been there the whole time.”

This is the life of  a source…

I picked up the ducky and read the note written on the back.  “Parking garage across the street – Level 3. I’ll be waiting in my Subaru.”

I gave the barkeep a $50.

“Keep the change.”

“Your tab was 49.82.”

“I said keep the change.”


When I arrived on the third level of the parking garage, I began my search for the Subaru. My heart was flying rapid. For the first time in my life, I was scared. 

This is the life of a source…

Suddenly, headlights flashed in front of me. That must be him.

I approached the Subaru.  It was purple – classic Woj.  

source 2

The front window rolled down as a hand poked out. The hand directed me to get in the back seat. Reluctantly I agreed to the hand’s demands. Would I regret this decision? No time for regrets – not for a source. 

A man in a hood sat in the front seat. He spoke.

“You’re a hard man to track down.”


“I thought we had an understanding.”

“I thought we did too.”

“You were to be my source and – “

“That’s all I am to you?  A source?”

“You know what this was.”

“I thought I did.”


“Are you going to tell me what you know about LeBron?”

“Let me ask you something. Two months ago, Broussard was after me. He shot me in the neck. You were there. I began to bleed out as you stood over me.  You just stared. Never helped – only stared. Then you walked away.  Adrian, why didn’t you help me?”


“Are you going to tell me what you know about LeBron or am I going to have to-“

“Have to what?”

“Have to kill you…”

I reached for the handle. Locked.

“I don’t care. Do what you must, Adrian.”

“I thought you might say that.”

Suddenly, Woj’s phone began to ring. He got the phone out and handed it to me.  “It’s for you.”

I reached for the phone…


“Help me…”


It was Russian woman in red.

“Where are you?!”

The phone went dead.

“You monster… Let her go!”

“What do you know about LeBron?”

“Let her go, Adrian!”


“Fine!  Word is, he’s heading to Cleveland, alright? Nobody knows for sure though.”

“How sure?”


“Good enough.”

“That’s not enough to information to base anything on, you sick bastard!”

“Hah. People care about what I tell them to care about.  Information is optional”

Woj pulls up his Twitter app as he began to laugh.

“You can’t!”

“I will.”



“Thank you.  Now, get out.”

“You got what you came for – now let her go!”

“I will when you get out of the car.”

“You won’t get away with this!”

“I just did.”


I got out of the purple Subaru as it drove away.  Where was the Russian woman?  Did he really let her go?  Knowing Woj, probably not.  This man was too dangerous and he had to be stopped. I knew what I had to do.

This is the life of a source…

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