I move through the casino floor until I see a guarded door. With purposeful steps, I close the distance between us.
The guard looks me up and down with disgust. “Get lost, kid.”
I crack a smile. “Why don’t you step out of the way before things get messy?” Casually, I pull back the flap of my jacket and show him the gun in my waistband.
He gives me a sidelong look, not sure if he should take me seriously or not. “I said, get lost.”
Shaking my head, I sigh deeply. While most everyone knows me, there have been a few times where a new employee hasn’t been filled it on who I am yet. To this guy, I’m just some punk kid. I hold up a finger and motion for him to come closer. He leans in just a bit. “You know Tony Novelli?”
He pulls back, looking me over. “Of course.”
“He sent me here for Don Caprise. He here?”
He looks around before slowly nodding once.
“Why don’t you take a break? Go have a smoke or take a piss. I’d hate to go back and tell my old man that the only thing stopping me from capturing the man he’s been looking for is a single door and you.”
He bites his lower lips, checks his surroundings, and nods before stepping to the side.
“Good man,” I say with a wink as I place my hand on the knob and draw my gun from my waistband.
Taking one more deep breath, I push myself forward, throwing open the door. It bangs against the wall, drawing the attention of everyone on the other side of it.
I find myself in a small room with a lone poker table in the center. Every seat is occupied, and I look at each man at the table. Slowly, methodically, I stare them down with my gun still drawn. “Where’s Don Caprise?” I ask, pointing my gun at each of the men.
A couple of them exchange glances and don’t answer. But one of them points toward the back of the room. I motion with my head and gun for them to get their shit and leave. They waste no time in clearing the room.
Slowly, I make my way toward the back. Turning the corner, I find another door. I push through the second door and find the man I’ve been looking for forcing himself onto some woman who was dumb enough to come back here with this scum.
“Hey!” I yell, firing my gun at the ceiling causing white dust to fall like snowflakes on the surface of the black bed.
The woman screams and scurries away into the corner with her hands covering her body as Don stands from the bed, still fully clothed. He holds up his hands. “Novelli send you to collect on his debt, did he?”
I nod, now aiming my gun at him. “That’s right.”
He smiles. “Well, you can tell Novelli that he ain’t getting shit from me.” More rapid than should be humanly possible, he reaches into his jacket, and all I see is a flash of a gun.
Without hesitation, just like I’ve been taught, I pull the trigger. The gun fires, and the bullet slices through the air. Faster than I can process, he falls back onto the bed with the woman, who’s screaming bloody murder.
My men rush in behind me and run to check on him. “Fuck, Mad! You weren’t supposed to kill him! Now Tony will never get his money.”
I shrug. “It was money or me. I think he’d rather have his son, don’t you?”
The woman in the corner has now calmed down, but my ears are still ringing from her shrill screams.
As the men carry Don out to deliver to my father, I make my way toward the woman cowering on the bed. Pushing my jacket aside, I put my gun away and inch closer to her with my palms up.
“Are you okay?”
Her head pops up, and her mouth opens as another scream comes out. Trembling in terror, she tries to back further into the corner. She thinks I’m going to hurt her. It’s only now that I can see this isn’t a woman, but a girl no older than I am. Shit, what was that fucker doing?
“Shhhh. It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.” Cautiously, I sit on the edge of the bed and toss her back her top. I avert my gaze.
“I’m Madden. What’s your name?”
“Amelia,” she nearly whispers, pulling her shirt over her head.
“What in the hell are you doing back here?”
She stands and adjusts her skirt. “My dad… he owed that man money. They worked out a deal.”
I swallow, completely repulsed. “Your dad gave you to that man?”
She shrugs and reaches behind her to pull her long, dark hair free from underneath her shirt. “Don’t act like this is the first time you’ve seen some fucked up shit. You just shot a man.”
I reach out my hand for hers, but she only studies it, unsure if she should take it or not. Inside, I pray that she does. I don’t know why, but there’s something about her that I like. She’s drop dead gorgeous. That’s easy to see even with the fear on her face just from looking at her dark curls, plump lips, and high cheekbones. But she’s fucking tough as nails. Anyone that would stick around for this life instead of hightailing it out of the city is someone I know need by my side.
“Come on. Let me take you home.”
She shakes her head sadly. “I can’t go home.”
“Why not?”
She nods toward the door. “I was supposed to belong to him now.”
I step closer and take her hand in mine. “Well, now you belong to me.”
She willingly walks out of the club with me and to a nearby motel. At the front desk, I pay for the room for the next month before leaving her at her door alone.
And the rest is history. Thinking over that night still fills me with rage, yet appreciation. If it wasn’t for her sleaze-bag father trading off his only daughter, I’d never have met my beautiful queen. I press a long kiss to her lips, wanting to feel her against me for a little longer. I saved her back then, and she’s saved my ass and my heart many times and in many ways over the years. She’s the only one that’s always had my back, and for that, I’ll always have hers. What we have goes beyond any mere sense of obligation for saving each other’s asses though. She’s the very rhythm of my heartbeat, and I’m hers. Without her, there’d be no Madden Novelli.
“I love you,” I breathe into her mouth. “I’ll be home a little late tonight.”
“I love you too.” Her fingers stroke my cheek affectionately.
I press one more short kiss to her lips and spin on my heel, heading for the door.
Now, it’s time to meet the men that make this whole organization work. They’re all lining up in my warehouse with my new shipment stacked up behind them in wooden crates.
First, there’s Kong. He’s 6’5” and 300 pounds. Dark skin — of Hawaiian descent — dark hair, and black eyes. He’s the muscle around here and aptly named after King Kong. Not only does he do nothing but play video games in his downtime, but he’s literally known for grabbing a mother fucker and throwing him, just like an oversized gorilla.
Next, we have Martian. He’s built about the same way I am. Tall — 6’3” and at least 200 pounds. He’s nothing but pure fucking muscle. His dark hair is always styled, and he dresses nice — always in designer threads. He’s my go-to man. It doesn’t matter what the job is, he’s always happy to accept. He gets shit done, and because of that, he’s earned the nickname, Live Wire.
Next up is Jason. He’s of average height and build. He has dirty blond hair and blue eyes. He looks like your average college kid, but what’s special about him is that he’s a pure and simple psychopath. He’s unable to feel love, but even more importantly, remorse. He’s the one I call when someone needs to be taken out or a very serious impression needs to be made. I don’t have to worry about him snapping because someone got caught in the crossfire. He kills, he tortures, he completely fucking dominates — which is how he got the name, The Dominator.
Those are my three leaders. Each of them has a group of men under them that they keep in control. We have a team of guards, a team for sales, and a team we keep readily available called The Expendables that get assigned to any job that comes up.
3
; “Everything’s here, just as you demanded,” Enzo, says.
I look over at him, standing in front of the team. He’s dressed in a nice, dark gray suit — not as nice as mine, but still better than most. He wears an expensive maroon dress shirt with a navy-blue, silk tie. His black hair is gelled and perfectly styled. When his gaze turns to me, his light blue eyes lock on mine without a shred of fear. Around here, we call him Pretty Boy just to get under his skin.
“Let’s see what we have.” I gesture for him to show me the inventory.
The men all quickly step out of his way as he cuts between them, heading for the wooden crates. Slowly, I follow behind him, keeping my cool.
Kong takes the crowbar and jams it between the lid and the box. With one push, the top creaks and pops loose.
Enzo reaches inside and moves away the stuffing filling the crate, pulling out the semi-automatic weapon.
“Kong, crack open the crates. Live Wire start counting the inventory, and Enzo, I want you watching and double checking everything. Bring me the inventory list when it’s through.” I turn to leave the warehouse but pause by Jason.
“Dominator, get the guys ready to get this shipment out the door the second I give the approval.”
He nods, accepting his command as I continue on my way. I’m almost through the door when Enzo calls out, “Hey, boss.”
I stop and turn to look over my shoulder at him. “That interview you wanted is set up for 11:00 A.M. He’ll be in your office.”
I turn without acknowledgment.
Once upon a time, if you wanted drugs or untraceable weapons, you had to come through us. Then Big moved into the city. We’re upper north side — classy, sophisticated, and don’t forget, rich.
Big, he’s lower south side. His crew’s nothing but a bunch of bottom feeders. We’ve been at war for decades now because he’s been taking our business. We’ve tried many times to break him, but he’s like cheap vodka — you just can’t keep it down. He’s nothing more than a puddle of vomit you can’t get off the bottom of your shoe. He picks the worst fucking time to strike, and he leaves a bad taste in your mouth. I couldn’t pick a better analogy for him if I tried.
I take every opportunity I can to fuck him over. We steal his clients, nearly giving our shit away just to take from his pockets. We set him up for crimes his men didn’t commit, just to leave him short-handed. And, that’s also why I fuck his nineteen-year-old girlfriend any-fucking-chance I get. And let’s not forget the cherry on top of this delicious sundae, his wife.
Camille and I have had this thing going on for almost twenty years now. She’s not young like my usual thrill, but just knowing that I’m sinking deep into my enemy’s wife, it does it for me in ways I can’t explain.
When I walk into my office, I find my secretary on the phone behind her desk and a strange man sitting across from her. I close the door behind me, causing them both to look my way.
The guy stands and holds out his hand to shake. “Mr. Novelli, I’m Ranger Morrison. Your assistant, Lorenzo, told me to be here for an interview.”
I look at this kid, totally confused as to why Enzo would suggest someone who’s probably not even old enough to get into a fucking nightclub. He can’t be any older than my daughter. His face is covered with a dark scruff, but he’s so young I bet it took him months to grow it out. He’s also not dressed the way I like my men to dress, but since I’m looking to fill the position of drug dealer, I guess he doesn’t exactly need a nice suit.
In fact… I look him up and down, taking in everything he has on: Jordan sneakers, fitting jeans, a loose t-shirt, and a backward hat. He’d really appeal to the younger crowd. He could hit up the parks and malls — hotspots for younger people.
This just may work after all…
I hold out my hand and shake his, applying a little too much force. I watch him for any sign of weakness. He doesn’t flinch.
“Follow me to my office.” I let his hand go and walk across the room. He follows behind me, closing the door and taking the seat across from mine.
“Why do you want this job?” I ask, walking to the drink cart and pouring two drinks. I pick up one and toss it back and refill it. Then I take them both back to my desk and hand him one before sitting down and getting comfortable.
He crosses his right ankle over his left knee. “Well… to be honest, I need to make a lot of money and fast.”
“What kind of trouble are you in?” I pick up my glass and take a sip.
“I’m not in any trouble, sir.”
My brow lifts skeptically. “A normal kid doesn’t just up and decide that he wants to be a drug dealer. Something’s propelling this. Now, what kind of trouble are you in?”
“My parents kicked me out of the house. I’ve been crashing with friends, but I really need my own place. I’ve never been in trouble with the law before.” His blue eyes hold a speck of honesty.
“Why’d they kick you out?”
“Trouble in school… fighting. I busted some kid’s teeth out and got expelled.”
Ahhh, so he’s a fighter, huh? That could certainly come in handy. “You ever sell before?”
“A little,” he answers.
“What did you sell?”
He shrugs, carelessly. “Weed mostly. Pills on occasion.”
I laugh. “That shit’s for babies.”
He seems to get offended but pushes it down. Instead, he sits up straight and cocks his jaw. “Look, I know you think I’m a fucking joke, but I’m hungry. Nobody will do a better job than me.” His nostrils flare, and his jaw flexes.
I study him for a long minute, wanting to put him on edge. “Alright, I’ll give ya a shot.”
He lets out the breath he’s been holding and seems to relax.
“Thank you,” he breathes out.
“Don’t thank me yet. There’s some training you need to go through before you hit the streets.” I stand, and he does the same. “There needs to be insurances in place to make sure my business doesn’t crumble at your hands.” I walk to the door, placing my hand on the knob, but don’t open it because I know my statement will only bring on more questions.
“Insurances?”
I nod once. “That’s right. We need some personal information.”
“You mean, to blackmail me with if shit goes south?”
“If you want out at any time, that can be arranged,” I assure him. “But, we need something to hold over your head to make sure you don’t roll over at the first sign of trouble. Get it?”
He looks deep in thought, but he nods in agreement.
I smile and open the door, allowing him to walk out. “Wait here for Enzo. He’ll be the one to deliver you to the guys who’ll train you.”
With him now waiting in the lobby with my secretary, I close the door between us, leaving me alone in my office.
Settling in my seat behind the desk, I grab the inventory list from the top drawer. I’m skimming over the list, just making mental notes so I know what’s coming and going. I’m only halfway through the list when my phone rings. Without pulling my eyes away from the papers, I grab it, holding it between my ear and shoulder. “Yeah?”
“Mr. Novelli, Officer Rodriguez is here to see you.”
Fuck. Just what I need: a fucking cop to deal with.
“Send him in.” I hang up the phone and smooth my papers back into a neat stack. Just as I’m sliding them back into the drawer, the door opens, and he steps inside, dressed in his black police uniform. “Novelli, how’s your day going?” He takes off his hat and drops it onto my desk before flopping down into the chair across from me and propping his feet on the edge.
“As well as ever.” I stand and shove his feet off my desk. They fall quickly down to the floor with a thud. “Keep your fucking feet on the floor where they belong.” Without another word, I turn and pour us both a drink.
By the time I turn back around with the two glasses in my hand, he’s sitting upright in the chair, the cocky look wiped clean f
rom his face.
I take my seat and set down his glass. “Now, what is the meaning for this visit? I shouldn’t be seeing you for another couple weeks.”
The calmness on his face has now been replaced with a smug look. “I actually wanted to renegotiate our deal.”
I swallow the liquid in my glass in one big gulp. “No renegotiations.”
He leans forward, resting his elbows on the arms of his chair. “Not even if I’ve got something good?” His smile widens.
I shrug, carelessly. “Well, I guess that depends on how good it is. Care to elaborate?”
He stands and starts to slowly pace back and forth. “I know we agreed to one mil a month…” He pauses as he spins around to face me. “But I want two.”
I laugh. “You want two million dollars a month? For what?” I yell.
He seems offended. “It’s my ass on the line out there!” He points at his chest. “It’s my job. My whole life could be ruined if my boss found out about what I’ve been doing for you!”
“I think one mil a month is more than enough to set you up for life.”
He nods as his right hand comes up and scratches his nose. “Alright.” He begins backing up toward the door. “I’ll remind you of that when that video I posted goes live.” He looks at his watch. “Two hours and counting.”
“What video?” I ask, slowly standing and walking around my desk.
He holds up his finger as he digs his phone out of his pocket. He taps around for a minute, then spins the phone around for me to see.
It’s a shitty copy of whatever it is. It’s done in night vision, so everything has a greenish tint to it. Slowly, the image comes into view.
“Yeah, just like that,” his voice rasps over the video.
His hand comes into view, and he pulls back something dark to show some girl sucking his dick. She looks up, and her eyes meet mine.
Dirty Chicago_Season One Page 2
