by Tiana Laveen
“Hunter.”
“I want your full government name.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m head of security for this entire place. I’m a retired Phoenix sheriff and was directly recruited and hired by the owners of this casino, Mr. and Mrs. Ilitch, to keep the patrons here safe for over eight years. Now tell me who the hell you are.” The old man’s brows bunched in annoyance.
“…Hunter Wolfe.”
“Wow… what a name.” The guy leaned to the side and shook his head as if once again amused. “Hunter.” The old man swayed slowly back and forth in his chair, glaring at him. “You’ve got a hell of a right hook, motherfucker. Pure power.” He chortled. He then pointed to one of the cameras. “I saw you in action. Jesus… you box, I take it?” The man arched a brow. Hunter shrugged as the man picked up a small remote, rewound the footage and showed him fucking up the two guys in slow motion. He turned away from the monitor before it was turned off.
“Are you lettin’ me go or not?”
“That’ll inevitably be up to you. First, you and I need to discuss a few things.” The guy cleared his throat and leaned forward. “Let me tell you what I know. You came in here with your friends… looks like you’re celebrating a birthday. Happy birthday,” He smiled. Hunter remained quiet. “Anyway, things went downhill… fight breaks out, right? One of your friends, he was standing right outside the restaurant entrance on his phone, and a guy came and bumped into him. Your friend said somethin’ to him, and well, that was the beginning of the brawl. You and your buddy jumped into it and all I could see was this big six-four or six-five guy, that being you, swinging his arms and knocking guys the hell out.” He chuckled louder now. “You did it with such ease! You looked so calm, too, like it was just another day in your life. Is it? Is this normal for you? This type of behavior?”
“Man, what do you want?” Hunter huffed as he crossed his arms.
“Wolfe… interesting last name.” He tapped his chin. “That’s German, I believe, but a lot of Indians have it, too. You’re part Chippewa, Ottawa, Potawatomi? Maybe Wyandot, Iroquois, Fox, Miami, or Sauk?”
“Indian? Me? Nah, I’m White.”
The old man vigorously shook his head.
“Nope, no way. You need to look in the mirror, son. Your facial structure tells me something else. I’m real good with faces. I also used to work homicide and learned a lot from the forensics team about facial structure, hair type, things that identify the race of a person. Negroid, Caucasoid, Mongoloid… I can see that you’ve got a lot of White in you; you’re probably mostly White, but you definitely have some Native blood, more than just a little bit. My name is Johnny Williams, by the way.” He extended his hand. Hunter hesitated, then shook it. “I’m from the Fort Mojave Indian Tribe. I worked part time in the casinos there, too, when I was a cop. You know, you should do one of those DNA test kits that are so popular now. I’m sure that’ll confirm my suspicions about you.”
“I’m good… what’s this really about? I doubt that you called me up here to talk about me possibly having an Indian great-great grandmother or somethin’.” Hunter reached for his cigarettes and lighter and hissed when he realized he’d left it on the table in the restaurant. As if reading his mind, the old man offered him one of his own. Hunter used the offered lighter then handed it back.
“Do you have a fulltime job, Mr. Wolfe?” The man glared at him with all-knowing eyes.
“No.”
“You’ve got a prison record though, don’t you?”
Hunter cocked his head to the side and blew out smoke.
“That’s my answer. I can see it in your eyes.” The man’s mouth turned into a black slit, curled at the ends like a scroll. “See, I like raw, edgy talent like you. Guys like you make great security for places like this. We’ve got everything from prostitution to sex trafficking, drug dealing, all the way to cheating at a game of Blackjack or running off with a measly twenty dollar bar tab. Behind the glitzy lights, glam, joy, laughter and money in this place is an underworld that is poisoning the easy-go-lucky appearance. I need it stopped.” He clasped his hands together and leaned forward. “That’s bad business and reputation is everything. Any experience in security, Hunter?”
“I was a bouncer for a club one summer…”
“There we go! How about that fighting?”
“What about it?”
“We have professional boxing matches here sometimes. We’ve had Floyd Mayweather and recently, Tyson Fury. I bet you’re a Fury fan.” He grinned real wide. “We need security for all of these events and I wouldn’t mind havin’ someone on the team who has a bit of fighting knowledge, too.”
“I’m not formally trained… I’m self-taught. Watched fights and movies. That’s it. Did some local fighting to get a little money… won some awards… Nothin’ special. Nothing more than that. Paid gigs.”
“What’s your fighting rank and record?”
“17-0, 9 stoppage wins, 3rd round knock-out with one guy, 4th round knock-out with another.”
“Boxing name?”
“Tyrant.”
The man pulled out his cellphone and began to play with it.
“You’re Google-able, did you know that?” Hunter shrugged. “Mr. Wolfe, you’re either modest or forgetful. You were wrong. Your record, according to the Saginaw amateur Boxing league, is 18-0.” The man smiled even wider. “Must’ve forgotten about one of your fights… You must be good. Very good. You have good control over your body from the bit I saw. You don’t waste time or energy. I could see that while you worked on those guys to get them off your pal.”
“Get to the part where you ask me for something and I say no.”
“Look, Hunter, I can call the cops and have you arrested, or I can hire you. It’s just that simple.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Not at all.” The man took a sip of his drink then set it back down. “The fact remains though that you actually broke casino rules. We have every right to hand you over to the police. That was assault and you and I both know it. You were not personally in any imminent danger. You can’t be here pummeling our patrons. Several of them have already been hauled away for their part in all that nonsense, just for the record.”
“Where’s Mike? He’s the one that you said was on the phone. What about Bruce? He’s my friend, the one that got hit with a bottle.”
“They’re fine. I requested Mike not be apprehended since he didn’t throw the first punch. Bruce has been bandaged up and he’s free to stay. You, on the other hand, are in a different situation.”
“I’m not on parole, so if you have me arrested, I’ll probably be out again soon. This is a minor charge and it was self-defense. My friend was getting beat up,” Hunter bluffed. He knew damn well it could go in the opposite direction; his record was far too extensive to take such a chance, but he wanted to see where this bastard’s mind was at.
“I’m aware of that. It’s a gamble and though it may have sounded like it, I’m not trying to blackmail you. I’m offering you an opportunity, Hunter. It’s just that simple. You need a job, I have one.” The man threw up his hands. “Let me hire you, do a bit of training and you’re on.”
“Why do you want me? There are plenty of other guys that—”
“I want you because you’re hungry… you’re angry. You’re like me when I was in my twenties.” His eyes flashed with delight. “I was wild and untamable. I was filled with rage due to a childhood that was dysfunctional to say the least. Something tells me you can relate. My early adult life was no better. I’ve got three ex-wives to attest to the fucked up way my mind worked, the wrath I had deep inside. I was estranged from my children for years. Now, things are better, much better, but it took a long time for me to get here. I needed somewhere to put that energy, so I joined the police.” Hunter rolled his eyes, not giving a damn. “I know the police probably aren’t your favorite people, but not all of us are bad. In fact, most of us are good and trying to serv
e our communities, Hunter. Not to cause harm to the public, but to help them – especially my Native municipal that were and still are to this day, in desperate need.”
“Then go back and help them.” The man fixed his mouth to say something, then held his chin high and smiled instead.
“Hunter, I see almost everyone that comes in here.” He pointed to one of the monitors. “Edward over there was brought in the same way I’m bringing you in.” He pointed to one of the security guards, a tall, muscular Black guy. “He was involved in illegal activities. He was good at it, too, but he is a smart guy… very intelligent. All of that was going to waste. He came in here two years ago and tried to get over. I snatched him up and he’s one of the best men on the security team. He knows the mentality, the mindset, the desperation to make ends meet of some of the people who walk in and outta here. He knows what it feels like to be addicted to trouble…” Hunter’s heart beat a bit faster. “That fast life… fast money… fast women… we’ve all been there. What I am doing is new, frowned upon by some, but damn it: it works. You’d be the third one… so, what do you say?”
“This doesn’t sound right. I’ll pass.” Hunter snuffed out his cigarette in the man’s ashtray and stood up. “Go ahead and call the police. I’ll fight the charges. Nobody around here does anything for free. There’s always a catch.”
“Yeah, there is a catch, Hunter, no doubt about it.” The man looked up at him, wistfulness in his eyes. “We’re revamping the entire security team and how we operate. There are too many things going on that we haven’t been able to weed out and catch. As a cop, I had a good eye and ear, but I can’t duplicate myself twenty times over. As a criminal, you can spot your own before they even get good and started.” His eyes narrowed. “The catch is, I want you for what you’ve done wrong, not what you’ve done right. The criminal mind is a complex one. This is a radical idea, but I’ve been laying down the groundwork for it for over three years. You’re an experiment. But, you’d be paid well. Health insurance, off on major holidays, vacation days, discounted drinks and food during non-working hours, reduced hotel room rates, all sorts of perks. I run a tight ship. I’m strict, but I’m fair.” The man then took out a pad of paper and scribbled something on it, then showed it to Hunter. “Do you like that?”
“$39,000 salary?” His brow rose.
“And it can go up every year. That doesn’t include your 401 K options, insurance, all of that.” He ran his hand along his jaw, feeling a bit more optimistic. Who else was going to pay a felon that sort of dough straight out of the pen, especially for non-manual labor? “All I ask is that you give at least forty hours a week, and be available for the assigned boxing matches. We typically have three or four a year and plan well in advance. Can you do that?”
Hunter looked down at that piece of paper once again.
My job search has been a fucking mess. I’m doing temp jobs that aren’t helping much to tide me over. Low ball offers or no call back at all. I could finish working on Noah’s car with this type of wage. Found out some of the parts I need are more expensive than I imagined. This would take care of that. I could help Nita with this money, too… get her roof fixed. She gets child support but it isn’t much; the guy is married and has four step-kids to raise. I could make ’er feel more comfortable with us being together if I had something like this to offer, somethin’ to bring to the table… She never said it, but I know she feels like she can struggle by herself. I could help Noah’s daughter, Olive, and Tisha, too…
I really want them outta that neighborhood. It’s not safe. It isn’t a huge amount of money, I made way more hustling, but it’s definitely enough to live on, a good start anyway, and with the perks, I could do even more. I’ve never had a retirement plan before or health insurance. This could be a game changer. It could even help me get other jobs in the future because I’d have more experience. I don’t have to stay here forever… just do it for like a year or two and try to use it to my advantage to get something else if I want…
Hunter picked up the piece of paper from the desk and slowly sat back down in the chair.
“Can you do a little better than this?”
The man propped his elbow on the desk and rested his chin on his fist.
“You believe my offer to not be fair?” he asked as if insulted.
“Fair is a relative term. It’s fair for a customer to pay a dollar for a value menu item at a fast food joint… doesn’t mean it isn’t worth more when you consider the wages the workers are paid, the farmers, all of that shit. I had no desire to work at a casino. I come here for fun. Period. A lot of crazy shit can go on in these places, just like you said. I could be puttin’ my life in danger. I don’t even like cops, and I don’t believe most of y’all are good, either. Oh, and I’m also not stupid. You might wanna write that one down.” His eyes narrowed on the man.
“I didn’t imply that you were. Why would you say that?”
“Obviously you do take me for a fool. ’Cause see, you’ve got an amateur boxing night here every quarter, and you want me in it. You don’t give a shit about me doing security for the boxing matches. You make a lotta money off the amateur fights.”
The man’s complexion deepened.
“And how in the hell would you—”
“Man, just stop.” Hunter put up his hand and smiled. “Don’t waste my time trying to get over. My grandparents didn’t raise a dummy. You’re tryna butter me up, then when it’s time, make me feel like I owe you. You take street motherfuckers like me, the ones that you know can only get minimum wage jobs, and pit us against one another like animals for a few pennies in a ring, and the people love it. We’re broke and desperate. You want the big, strong guys, the ones with not much to lose. I know you’ll take the majority of that profit from a fight, too. Like Don King did Tyson. You might have been a police officer in the past, but you’re somethin’ else now, or hell, maybe you’re exactly the same.
“Doesn’t matter to me because you might be slick, but I’m slicker. You’re right, we are similar, Johnny, but you didn’t think I’d be smart enough to figure out just how much so.” Hunter chuckled. The man didn’t smile back. “I’ve never been to a fucking college, but I’m clever and I know it.” He tapped the side of his head, looked down at the piece of paper and balled it up. “Started as a police officer, you’re a businessman now. So am I. My office was made of concrete, blood and sweat. Yours is made of mahogany, other people’s rent money, and broken marriages due to gambling addictions. You’re no better than me… sittin’ there with your Mr. T, pity tha fool rings ’nd shit, lookin’ like Tonto, the pimp version. You thought you got over.” He cackled. “Call the cops. I don’t care. Fuck you.”
“Excuse us.” The man shook his head, hatred in his eyes as he shooed the three men in the room with them away. Moments later, the office door closed and clicked shut.
Johnny sneered and pointed a finger at him. “You watch your fuckin’ step. You have no idea who you’re dealing with… have a lotta fuckin’ nerve.” The man sucked his teeth, venom oozing out of his pores. “But I respect the way you think all the same.” He grinned, a flash of devilment in his eyes. “All right.” He crossed his arms. “If I give you a higher salary, then I expect a return on my money.”
“I expect a return on my time and energy.” They looked at one another. “And since you have connections in the penal system and law enforcement, I’ve got some bogus ass charges on my record that my old attorney won’t lift a finger to get rid of. I want that shit off of there.”
“You’re bargaining… gambling… and yet I never saw you play not one game on the floor tonight. How ironic.” The man sighed. “All right. New deal. Get your security training and if all goes well, I’ll hire you a lawyer to look at your criminal record and see what we can get off of there. Tell me what you think is a more reasonable offer as far as your salary is concerned. I’ll negotiate.”
“Give me that pen.” The old man handed it to him. Hunter uncrumple
d the piece of paper, scratched out the first offer, then scribbled down, $48,000 and scooted it in front of him. “It’s not much more in the grand scheme of things, but would make a difference for me. As far as you getting a good return, you saw it yourself. I don’t lose fights. I’m too pissed off and coldblooded to go down easy.”
“Everybody loses eventually, Hunter.”
“You don’t know me. You don’t know my life.” He spat. “I already lost everything. Ain’t shit left.” He got to his feet and headed towards the door.
“Offer accepted, Hunter. You start next Tuesday. Be here at 9:00 A.M. sharp. Oh! One more thing… what will your boxer name be? I plan to start showcasing you soon.” Hunter opened the door and looked back at him from over his shoulder.
“Tyrant.”
“Tyrant…” The man swiveled slowly back and forth in his red leather chair. “Just like for your amateur fights. I like that. Yes, let’s keep it.” He steepled his hands. “‘Tyrant the Wolfe,’ perhaps? A play on your last name. Yes, that has a nice ring to it.”
“Tyrant the Wolfe is fine… but just remember, I’m alpha dog. I follow no one. I always lead the pack…”
CHAPTER TEN
Birthday Boobs and Box
Tossing his shower towel over his shoulder, Hunter looked around the lavish casino hotel room and caught himself smiling in the mirror. It was three in the morning and he’d just finished getting cleaned up. The shower head was exceptional, so much so, he studied it and made a mental note to go to the hardware store and try to get a similar one later in the week. He stood in the dark room in navy-blue boxers, the only illumination coming from the television screen, and pondered his situation. Hours prior, he’d managed to leave Johnny’s office without getting jail bracelets.
That had been one of the strangest business propositions he’d ever received in his entire life. The man was weird as fuck, but he was a quick thinker, and knew how to work things to his advantage. Cops and criminals had been making deals since the beginning of law and penalty. This man understood that important dynamic – the reliance of one upon the other. Hunter couldn’t help but appreciate that. He was criminally minded; this was hardwired within him. It’s how he survived some circumstances that most would have fallen apart from, or ended up in some mental hospital or perished. After he left that man’s office, fully prepared to go home and take his busted-up friend to a quiet place, he found them all waiting for him in a bar in the casino. Bruce had gauze on his head and a silly smile.
