Congratulations on Stopping the Bleeding!

Her name is Christine. You met her two weeks ago and she’s all you can think about right now.

You’ve been single for the last two years, and every day has been a little bit harder for you. Ever since Jean shattered your heart into a thousand tiny little pieces you’ve wanted to love but it’s been hard for you. Going out, talking to people, not crying when you get a woman back to your apartment. All of these things have been challenges you’ve tried and failed to overcome.

But Christine will break down those barriers almost immediately. Her easy smile, her everyday beauty and her captivating conversational abilities made you believe right away that she was the one who’d build you back up. So you asked her out, she coyly nodded and the two of you are soon to embark on a night you’ll never forget.

So far it’s been one hell of a first date. It all began when you picked her up from her parents house. You thought it was a little odd that a twenty six year old woman would still be living with her parents, but you’re not the judgmental type and she had a fantastic body so you went for it.

Twenty minutes later she had her skirt around her waist while she played with herself and you thought you were the luckiest guy in the world. She mumbled something about sex addiction while she mounted you on the highway, but just so you know it was a total lie. She just wanted to quickly develop a bond with you so that you’d trust her no matter what came next.

She knew she’d need a man like that tonight, and she knew you’d be desperate enough to fall for it. When you pull up to the restaurant, a moderately priced Thai joint in downtown St. Paul, she’ll bounce from the car and eat her meal with all the fervor and joy of someone relishing what could be their last bite of real food for the next five to twenty. Then she’ll lean over the table and whisper in your ear that she has something to show you.

She’ll give you directions until you’re well into Northeast Minneapolis, threading you through streets you’ve never heard of, let alone visited. When you reach the safehouse she’ll signal for you to stop. Then she’ll look you in the eye, kiss you on the mouth and say to you “Do you trust me?”

You’ll nod. Even though you barely know her you already feel more of a connection than you have with anyone else you’ve ever met.

“Good,” she’ll say. Then she’ll withdraw a small .45 caliber automatic pistol from her purse, check the chamber, attach a silencer and leave the car while you look after her, puzzled. Two minutes later she’ll emerge from the building covered in blood.

She’ll leap in the car and say to you “Drive,” in a voice strong and low. You’ll obey without hesitation.

You won’t even think about where you’re going, so before long you’ll be cruising down Selby. After a few minutes driving down the thoroughfare she’ll put her hand on the wheel, eyes tracing over the streets as she speaks.

“Take the next left.”

Again you’ll obey without question, and after a block and a half of driving she’ll gesture for you to stop. You’ll pull over, put the parking break on and your mind will snap back to reality. You’ll snap the doors closed with the power lock and turn to look her in the eye. You’ll speak clear headed for the first time that night.

“What the fuck is going on?”

She’ll stare you down and tell you everything. She’ll tell you about the three million dollars she’s going to take tonight, about the Chinese triad smuggling young women through the Twin Cities, young women like herself. She’ll tell you that the only way to stay safe was to stay off the grid by living with her parents and working at various Jiffy Lubes over the last four years and that, after all that effort, she’s going to take those mother fuckers down and ghost to Alberta where no one except the moose and the wolves will find her. And she’ll tell you you can tag along, if you want to, if you help her tonight.

She’ll reach under her skirt suggestively during the last part.

You’ll nod your assent and the two of you will take off, raiding warehouses and hideouts until only one last, big take remains in the hands of Chow Yun-Fat (not the actor), current leader of the Chinese mafia.

After a protracted gun battle you’ll finally fell Yun-Fat with a shotgun blast to the face. He’ll fall to the ground with a sickening thud and his last surviving underling, an accountant, will flee the building soiled by a mix of blood, sweat and urine.

Heather will be on the ground bleeding profusely from the arm. You’ll rush to her side and take off your shirt, holding it to the wound and putting her hand on top of it as you hurry to take your belt off one handed.

She looks at you as if this isn’t the time or the place but you’ll ignore her and slide the belt around her arm before tightening it until she groans. The flow of blood will slow at first, then stop altogether once you pull the clasp closed. Once you fasten it you’ll see that she’s looking at you with genuine wonder in her eyes. There will be something else there, too, you’ll think, but you don’t want to rush things.

She’ll lean forward to kiss you and you’ll drop the shotgun, pick her up with one hand and grab the money with the other. You’ll stagger to the door under the weight of the two of you and the future you’ve just made knowing that the night isn’t over just yet. You still have to get her back to her parents’ house.

And congratulations on stopping the bleeding. That was really a pimp move.