by Ezra Dawn
“That’s going to be a problem. We can’t have the family split like that even if it is part of my plan. Pick a few trustworthy members young and old that you’re certain are completely loyal and won’t reveal my plans to whoever is doing this. Tell them the reason for inviting the outsider in and have them talk to their peers about how they’re feeling when it comes to this situation. Hopefully, doing things that way can quell the unrest at least a little bit and put some feelers out so we can glean some information from the members on who might be out to get me. I don’t want the asshole working against us to figure out our plan. If they do, the new guy becomes an instant target and it defeats the purpose of bringing him into the fold in the first place.”
Callahan nods and says, “I’ll do what I can boss.”
“Good. Prepare the car for me. I’ll be heading home as soon as it’s ready to go.”
“It’s still early sir.”
I smile at him. “Yes, it is, but it’s also Friday. You know how I feel about business on weekends.”
He laughs and says, “I know I know. If somebody isn’t dying, then it’s not relevant and can wait until Monday.”
“Got it in one.”
He shakes his head and smiles. “I’ll vet these applicants over the weekend, so you can interview the ones that pass on Monday.”
“Sounds good. Let me know when the car is ready. And Callahan? Try to send me a few that aren’t uptight, overprotective, goody-goodies. Got it? I want my head of security to be someone I’d actually enjoy having around not someone I want to shoot every time they open their mouths.”
“Will do.”
A few minutes later, Bruno bursts into the office and says, “Boss we got a problem.”
“What kind of problem?”
“Some stalker prick assaulted one of the escorts. We’ve got the guy locked in the basement and the escort he assaulted is going to be fine, but we need to know what you want to do with the scumbag.”
“Ice him.”
“You want us to put him in the freezer?”
I rub my hands over my face and say, “No dumbass, I want you to put a bullet in him. When that’s done take him to Vinny at the butcher shop around the corner and dump his pieces into the river. Got it?”
He gulps and says, “Yes boss.”
“And tell Jimmy the next time he lets shit like this happen to one of my escorts he’ll be the one going to see Vinny. He’s the one in charge of the club. If he can’t take care of the problems without sacrificing the merchandise I’ll find someone else to do it.”
“I’ll tell him boss.”
“Good. You can go.”
Bruno exits the office as Callahan enters. “The car is ready.”
“Great. Get me out of here before someone else decides they need something.”
He laughs and says, “Sure thing boss.”
Standing, I follow Callahan out of my office. Two of my security guys fall in behind us, making sure I’m surrounded. On the outside, this building looks like any other storefront on the block, but underneath is a whole other ballgame. When my father opened this place, he had the organization’s hideout built underneath. There’s only one way in, and that’s the elevator disguised as a wall in the back of the restaurant. My mother always loved to cook, and my father saw it as a good opportunity to come up with a front for the business. The restaurant is completely legit. We don’t launder money through it or distribute drugs in the food deliveries. It’s too close to home and it’s the first place law enforcement checks when they think they have something on us.
By keeping the restaurant free of illegal activity and running other legitimate businesses, we keep our illegal dealings under the radar. Some would say, I have my hands in everything. Anything illegal you can think of, I’ve probably done it. Arms dealing, underground casinos, underground fighting, drug smuggling, escorts. I have deals involving it all. As boss, I have a few rules. The first being no business on weekends. My weekends are for family. Saturdays are for me and my Sundays are for my mother. The second rule is I don’t accept anyone into the fold who has a background involving sexual assault. I loathe bastards who would force themselves on someone. Last but not least, nothing happens without my say so. If I catch any of my guys doing something they’re not supposed to, I’ll beat their asses first before making sure they don’t do it again. Being an expert in close quarters combat gives me the upper hand when I need to teach someone a lesson.
My driver stops in front of my house and I wait for him to open the door before stepping out. I own a lot of real estate, including this building of condos. My place is the penthouse on the top floor and I’ve taken every precaution in order to protect myself. The glass is bulletproof, I have a panic room, security cameras at every access point including the stairwell and elevators. My penthouse has its own private elevator which makes sure there’s only one way in. If someone comes after me at home, I’ll see them coming. I also have guys that monitor the security feeds around the clock. Some of them even live in condos on the floors below me as part of my protection.
I also have a second home in the country, it’s sort of my getaway place. A two story ranch style home that’s waterfront to a private lake. No neighbors and it’s guarded in a way similar to my condo. I don’t get to go there very often and even when I do, I usually take my mother with me so I’m not lonely. See, I bought the place for when I settled down and started a family. It sits on fifty acres of land, so I can have a helicopter or small plane land to bring me into the city when it’s needed, but for the most part I’d be running the organization from there until I decided to hand the reins to someone else.
I’ve got this vision in my head of a future where my kids will grow up like normal children and won’t be tainted by the mob life. Where they’ll go to college and make something of themselves. There’s no way it will happen like that, but it won’t stop me from trying. I’ll teach them to protect themselves and do my best not to let them end up like me. That’s if I ever have children. Sure, there are ways to keep them out of the life. Some of my guys have kids who don’t go anywhere near the organization. It’s easier if your spouse isn’t involved in the life aside from knowing that you’re part of it. Do things this way, and the kids never have to know. Well, until some asshole tries to kidnap them to get to you and then you have to come clean. It’s been known to happen. Not that I would ever let it happen to my children. If I have it my way, which I’m sure I will, my kids won’t go anywhere without an armed escort. I’m just that paranoid.
When I enter my condo, I head straight for the kitchen. Pulling out one of the meal kits my chef prepares for me in advance, I take the recipe card off the container and put it back in the box she keeps by the stove, so she doesn’t have to write it down again then, grabbing a pan, I set to work fixing myself something to eat.
Early this morning, I received a text message with an address and a time. The location is an abandoned warehouse in the warehouse district. My hackles rise almost immediately, keeping a hand on the handle of my gun which is in the holster at my back, I enter the warehouse and find what looks like fifteen or more other guys standing in a line. Two men in suits walk over and search me. They take my gun and my cell phone and say, “You’ll get these back when you leave.”
Nodding, I stand at the end of the line. There’s a man sitting in a chair wearing suit pants, black loafers and a black t-shirt that barely contains his bulging muscles. His hair is shockingly red, and he has a stack of files laying on a table next to him. The two men who searched me close the warehouse door and block it off. The red-haired man says, “Is that everyone?”
The two men nod. “Yes sir.”
“Good. Let’s get started then.”
He stands and says, “My name is Callahan, I’m the organization’s second in command and current head of security. Since I can’t keep doing both jobs, my boss suggested I hold interviews. So, here’s how this is going to work. I’m going to go down the line and a
sk each of you the same questions. Depending on your answer you will either move to the second part of this interview or you will leave.”
He grabs a folder from the top of the file, flips it open and says, “Pierce, we’ll start with you.”
By the time he gets to me, over half the applicants have been kicked out for one reason or another. Some had criminal histories they lied about, others answered the questions in a manner that actually rubbed me the wrong way, so it must’ve been the same for the man asking the questions and some were blatantly homophobic when asked how they felt about such things.
Callahan stops in front of me, flips my file open and says, “Justice J. Taylor, it says here you spent some time in the military.”
“Yes sir. I did two tours in Afghanistan.”
“What was your specialty?”
“I was a sniper, sir, for a black ops team.”
“Why did you exit?”
“I was wounded when our Humvee was hit by an I.E.D.”
“Why did you end up here?”
“I have PTSD sir. I would’ve gone into law enforcement but with my training, I would have ended up on a SWAT team somewhere and I don’t want to kill unless I absolutely have to.”
“Are you being treated for it?”
“I was. I had a dog, but he passed about a year ago and I haven’t gotten another one.”
“What have you been doing for the last ten years?”
“Odd jobs mostly where they paid under the table. I only did enough to cover what my VA benefits won’t.”
“You do know this is a criminal organization, right?”
“I’m aware but I need something to do that’s steady, so I don’t sit in my house getting drunk and staring at the walls trying not to relive my nightmares. I was trained to be a soldier so doing security is my next bet. With my diagnosis a legitimate security firm would never hire me because I’m a flight risk. If I were to have an episode while a client is being shot at, a number of things could go wrong, and no one is willing to take that chance not even me.”
“There are other security jobs.”
Folding my arms, I raise an eyebrow at him and say, “Can you see me on one of those Segway things trolling a mall somewhere? Yeah, I’d rather gouge out my eyes with a rusty spoon than be a rent-a-cop.”
He stares at me blankly for a moment before a grin splits his face and he laughs. “I like you. Now, final question, how do you feel about working for someone who is gay? I ask because Mr. O’Rourke’s head of security will double as his personal bodyguard when he goes to clubs and the like. I need to make sure whoever fills the position is okay with that sort of thing.”
“I don’t have any problems with it considering I bat for the same team.”
“Good. I hope you don’t mind being hit on.”
“Why do you say that?”
His grin widens, and he says, “You fit the boss’s type. If you get the job, be prepared to deal with a little flirting.”
“No problem.”
He nods and walks away from me. Standing in front of the line that has dwindled from twenty to seven, he says, “On to part two. I’m going to test your combat skills. If you beat me or impress me, you move on to the third part of the interview which will be with the boss and he will make the final decision.”
Holding up his arms in a defensive position he says, “Come at me, all of you.”
The other six guys charge him immediately, and I resist the urge to shake my head. Standing back, I watch the way Callahan fights, searching for weaknesses I can use against him. When he’s down to three guys, I spot it. He’s deliberately leaving his left side wide open when he throws a punch. It’s like a blinking neon sign but it’s also a trap. When you duck under his punch to go for his ribs, he’ll bring his elbow down on your back. It’s then that I realize what his weakness is.
He’s great at hand to hand combat but he doesn’t know everything. Grinning, I wait until the last guy falls before kicking off my boots and charging Callahan. He puts his arms up to block an expected punch but that’s not what I’m going for. Leaping into the air, I spin and perform a flying roundhouse kick that connects with his cheek sending him sprawling onto the floor. I took my boots off, so I wouldn’t break his jaw.
He spits blood onto the floor then stands. He’s grinning when he grips my shoulder and says, “Where did you learn that?”
“My parents had me enrolled in martial arts classes from the time I could walk until the time I enlisted. I go to a gym for sparring every week to keep my skills sharp.”
“I sincerely hope the boss chooses you. I learned to expect that kind of thing from him when we’re sparring but I didn’t think I’d come across someone who fights like he does during these interviews. You’ll make a better sparring partner for him than I would.”
“So, does that mean I passed?”
“You did.” He hands me a piece of paper and says, “Be at that address on Monday for the final interview.”
Nodding, I turn to find the two guards standing behind me. They return my gun and phone and after putting my boots back on, I exit the warehouse. Once inside my SUV, I send a text to my contact letting him know I made it to the final interview before heading home. Since the interview is on Monday, I have the whole weekend to get the lay of the land and rest up. Working a huge case like the one I was pulled off of isn’t exactly good for my sleeping habits. I’ve spent my nights going over evidence and surviving on three hours of sleep or less per night. Getting a chance to catch up on some much-needed rest is something I’m looking forward to.
Every Sunday like clockwork, I attend mass with my mother and her friends early in the morning. Afterwards, I treat them to lunch, listen to them gossip then see them home. The afternoons are spent at the local VA hospital playing poker with the veterans there. We drink, smoke cigars, and trade war stories. I’ve never served in the military, but my grandfather was at one point. So was my father, as a teenager before he began building his criminal empire. I grew up listening to my grandfather’s stories and when he died, I missed hearing them so much that I started visiting the veterans at the VA hospital. Now, it’s something I do every week.
After dropping off the last of my mother’s friends, my chauffer takes me to the VA hospital. For now, Callahan is still acting as my personal bodyguard since I haven’t chosen a new head of security to take his place yet. The final interviews will take place tomorrow and I’ll choose Callahan’s replacement then. Entering the VA hospital with Callahan at my front, I greet each of the veterans we pass and head to the poker table in the corner where the usual suspects are waiting.
Holding up the box of cigars and bottle of whiskey I brought with me, I grin at them and say, “Hello gentlemen. Who’s ready for some poker?”
Former Sgt. Nestle holds out his glass and says, “Fill er’ up kid.”
Grinning, I crack the seal on the bottle and fill his glass. Pulling a cigar from the box, I light it and fill a glass of my own. Leaving the bottle in the center of the table so it’s within reach, I wait for Private Williams to deal the cards. As soon as the cards have been dealt, I take a puff of my cigar and view my cards.
Fuck… that’s a shitty hand.
Donning a blank mask, I prepare to bluff my way through this game. Grabbing a couple hundred-dollar bills from my money clip, I toss them into the center of the table. This isn’t some high stakes poker game. It’s just a couple guys betting whatever they have. For fun. We mostly use cash, but I’ve had a few of the guys bet hats and other items before. The stuff isn’t worth much but that’s not the purpose of this game. It isn’t about the money, it’s about the camaraderie.
After a couple glasses of whiskey, the guys start loosening up. Sgt. Nestle pours himself another glass and says, “Did I ever tell you bout that one time in Nam’? Me and the boys, we were trekkin’ through the jungle when Castigan says, ‘there’s something on my pants.’ We thought he was just statin’ the obvious, ya know? We all had som
ething on our pants from the hike. So, I turn to him and say, ‘Naw, really? We all have something on our pants but Castigan, he shakes his head with this wide-eyed expression on his face, while pointing to his backside, and says, ‘no there’s something on my pants.’”
Nestle sips his whiskey and continues, “Suddenly, he’s yowling and jumping around like he’s in pain and we’re all trying to shush him, so his yowling doesn’t give away our position. Then, when he starts spinning and smacking at his ass we see the snake attached to his left cheek.”
Laughing, I sip my own whiskey and say, “Then what happened?”
“Well, Jasper had this bright idea to grab the snake and pull it off Castigan so, he walks up to him, grabs the snake, and yanks it, taking a chunk of Castigan’s ass cheek with it. Our medic had to suck the venom out before treating the wound. Our medic became known as Kiss-Ass after that.”
“Did Castigan survive?”
“Oh yeah. Castigan was a resilient fucker. He died a few years ago when a drunk driver crossed into his traffic lane and hit him head on.”
“Damn… I’m sorry to hear that.”
Nestle nods and says, “It seems like it was kismet. Castigan loved his wife. They were married for nearly forty years and she passed a few months before he did. He didn’t have to be without her for too long before he joined her.”
Williams says, “Speaking of marriage. Mickey, when are you going to find a nice man and settle down?”
Grinning, I say, “When I find one who isn’t afraid to spend more than one night with me.”
Nestle says, “Just be patient, the right man will come along.”
Nodding, I think back to the day I told the men here that I was gay. They simply smiled at me and said, ‘We know.’ Apparently, my perusal of the younger male veterans was obvious. Richards, who’s been silent this whole time, looks up from his cards and says, “Are we going to play, or should we put the cards away so you three can gossip like women?”
