Disclaimer: I do not own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.

"Don't! Please don't!"

"Dude, I'm sorry, but my instructions are pretty clear. 15.000 Dollars or your kneecaps."

The man made small whimpering sounds. Guerrero released his gun's safety catch. The whimpering grew louder and more desperate. Guerrero took aim.

"You could pay the 15.000 Dollars for me!"

Genuinely surprised Guerrero stopped a split second before pulling the trigger. Just when he thought he had heard it all.

"I'm not asking you for a favor! I'm a professional saxophonist, in compensation I can teach you how to play!"

Guerrero chuckled. "15.000 Dollars in exchange for saxophone lessons? Dude…"

"You've got these long fingers, thin but strong, they're perfect for saxophone playing!"

"Nice try, dude…"

"Chicks totally dig guys who can play an instrument!"

… … …

"Did you move to New York harbor since last time I crashed at your place?" Hung over from last night's partying, Junior came stumbling into the living-room.

"Learning how to play long notes with full breaths is essential groundwork for everything else, wiseass."

"Well, if you're aiming at sounding like Empress of the Seas on a foggy day, you're definitely making progress."

… … …

"See how he squeals with delight. It's his favorite song."

"He's always squealing when I'm playing, no matter what song."

"He's squealing more when you're playing this particular one." A little huffed, thinking he didn't remember what was so special about David Sanborn's Chicago Song, she retreated into the kitchen.

Smiling, Guerrero picked up his son from the carpet and placed him on his knees. Gently guiding his tiny fingers, he let him inspect the saxophone's shiny golden surface and its numerous keys. "Chicks totally dig guys who can play an instrument, buddy", he whispered.

AN: Thank you, Samcamstargate1, for replying so fast!