"Now that’s... That’s just fucking awesome." Bobby laughed and folded his massive arms over his chest as Taylor closed the hood again. "I bet you I could put in upgrades that would make your mouth water, though."
"I tell you what," Taylor turned to him. "You come and work with me and you'll be able to tinker with her all you like."
"Her?"
"Well, yeah. All the best vehicles have to have a name, and I decided that most ships are she, so why not her?" he asked.
"Seriously? You talk about a big black bastard that spews foul smoke and you don't think a chick, man."
"You've hung out with the wrong kind of chicks, then," Taylor retorted. "Anyway, I call her Liz—after Queen Elizabeth."
"That woman will outlive us all, I swear to God," Bobby grumbled. "How old is she now? Two hundred?"
"At least."
"Liz, though?" the man asked dubiously and scratched his head, his expression comically disgusted.
"What's wrong with Liz?"
Bungees shrugged as if the answer was obvious. "It's a shitty name for a car. Why not go with Liza? At least that calls up memories of a diamond in the rough kind of story around the car."
"What?"
Bobby raised an eyebrow. "Haven't you ever watched My Fair Lady with Rex Harrison and Audrey Hepburn?"
"I can't say that I have."
Bungees shook his head, sympathy in his eyes. "Such a lack of culture."
"Oh, and Liz is a truck, thank you very much," he pointed out, not liking the shot at his cultural sensibilities.
Both men slid in quickly and Taylor started her and pulled out of the garage.
"So, if you've had Liz all this time, why are you taking rides from strangers on the Internet?"
"First of all, strangers on the Internet have been perfectly delightful so far," Taylor countered.
"Probably because they were afraid you would use their bones to make your bread," Bobby pointed out.
"Well…that might have been it, but they were very quiet and respectful," he assured him. "My point, though, is that I have basically my whole life packed in the back of this truck. Three suits I managed to bring back with me, all my personal belongings that can't fit in a suitcase, and my suitcases too. While I have savings from my time in the Zoo, they won’t replace most of that shit. Things have sentimental value."
"Is there any chance there's a stop between here and the fucking point?"
"What I'm trying to say is that I don’t intend to drive everything I own around town like a fucking traveling circus," he snarked. "I needed a place to park it where it would be safe from folks trying to steal anything until I had a place to park it with a little more permanence."
"Oh," Bobby said. "I guess that makes sense, although if I remember correctly, you said the place you bought for the business was somewhere in the east side of Vegas?"
"Yep," Taylor said, as they now headed in that very direction.
"Fuck me," his friend said with a smirk. "I do hope you're ready to fight for what's yours in there because you might actually have to."
"I've fought for my life and what was mine in the Zoo more times than almost fucking anyone," Taylor reminded him. "There’s no reason why that should change now. Let someone come and try to steal my shit from my place and I'll crush their heads with my boots."
"I'd say you were full of shit, but I do remember that one time with the panther—"
"Was it a panther?" He narrowed his eyes as he tried to recall what had happened. "I thought it was a hyena."
"Who the fuck knows?” Bobby said. "We killed three or four zoos’ worth of animals. Well monsters, the kinds that attacked us first."
"Zoos?"
"The… regular kind, not the Kudzu kind," Bobby said. "You know, lions, tigers, bears, oh my?"
"I can't remember having ever visited an actual zoo in my life, honestly. I knew they existed, of course, and people talked about it at school and the other kids went on field trips to the zoo for the day, but since Dad only wanted me to take over the shop from him, I ended up never going to one of them."
"That's some sad shit, dude."
He wasn't wrong, but although Taylor hadn't exactly had the most traditional of childhoods, he didn't really mind.
People who had traditional childhoods went on to become lawyers and shop workers and the like. While some would say that was a good thing, he preferred his more exciting life to whatever it was that they lived.
As it was, if an apocalypse involving the Zoo ever came about, he was now outfitted with the skills and equipment he would need to protect himself and his, and that was worth exchanging the quiet life for, right?
He liked to think it was. And he knew people would agree with him once—if, he reminded himself—the armageddon in question started.
But that was a topic for another time. They now pulled into the property he had purchased and he stopped the vehicle and yanked on the parking brake.
Both men exited the truck and stood in silence for a moment as they stared at the strip mall.
He still had no idea what to name his business.
The place did not look great in the afternoon light. He doubted it would look good in any light, quite honestly, but thanks to his efforts in the morning, it had lights and running water without any problems, and that was all the start he needed.
Yes, electricity was definitely what he needed for now.
"It looks like shit," Bungees pointed out and raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah, I guess it does," he agreed. "But I own it all—the parking lots and everything, although I think I'll move the grocery store."
"The location is a crappy place to start a business in." His friend continued with his assessment as if he hadn’t spoken. "For one thing, all the clearly visible problems aside, there is an issue with crime in this area."
"I think you and I both know we can handle anything that comes our way."
The man nodded agreement.
"Think about it," Taylor continued. "Our business model is fairly unique, given that the product we sell won’t require clients to come in and be impressed by our location. It'll be purely functional, and there's not that much we need for it to work itself out."
"I guess that's true, especially if we'll ship the suits out from the Zoo," Bobby concurred and rubbed idly at his chin.
"More importantly, the property came dirt cheap. And I mean dirt cheap. I persuaded them to cut a third off the price simply by offering to take it off their hands immediately."
"Do you think there might have been a reason for that?" his friend asked.
"Sure, one man's trash is another man's treasure," he replied and chuckled. "Anyway, my point is that it will lower our costs. We can do most of the functional repairs ourselves since we know how to work it and know what we need. Taxes and facilities are cheaper out here too."
"But insurance rates will go through the fucking roof."
"You're not wrong," he acknowledged. "I've looked into the pricing for this area to see what I can get that's cheaper for a location in development. I'll let you know what I find out, though."
"It sounds good.” Bungees turned to him. “Now, I don't want to be crass, but I do need to know about the money situation you have going. Obviously, I assume you have a good amount of seed money from your eighty or so trips into the Zoo."
"Eighty-three," he corrected him.
"Right. But I do need to know what I'd leave my current employment for. I know you won't have any specifics, but do you have anything basic to give me?"
Taylor nodded, retrieved his phone, and studied the numbers he had come up with while trying to determine if he could afford this kind of venture. "Well, these are some rough numbers, you know that. I won’t pay you hourly, so we're looking at a solid hundred thousand annual base salary to start. Since I do want you here working and not mooching off my good fortune, there will be performance bonuses based on the jobs we finish. We won't have any of that fucking one and a half overtim
e pay. It sucks troll balls."
"Damn right," Bobby said and chuckled. "You know, I think we'll be able to do business. I'm still tied to the auto-shop with my contract, but I've disputed it with them for a while, mostly over severance pay. Now that I have leverage on my side, I'll be able to get them to pull back."
"That sounds good to me."
"Unfortunately, it means I'll need to keep working for them until my contract is up in a couple of weeks or so," the man continued. "I'll still be able to come here and work but it'll be on a part-time basis, so keep that in mind when you cut me my first couple of checks."
"Will do." The chances were he wouldn’t be too picky about paying Bobby for his services. Good help was hard to come by, especially in this economy, and the man was taking a chance on this little venture as well.
"I think we can do business," Taylor offered his hand. It would have to be what they worked with for the moment until he could work up some actual contracts.
His friend took it and shook firmly.
"I'm looking to build something here," he continued as they called a cab to take Bobby home or to the auto-shop or wherever the fuck he wanted to go.
"And I'm looking forward to building it with you," Bungees replied.
Chapter Nine
He had sold the premises well to Bobby, mostly because he was sold on the location himself.
There was considerable work to put into it, but when was that ever not the case? It was miles cheaper than anything else he had looked at during his time with the realtor, and he would be able to lower the renovation costs by doing most of the repair work himself.
With that said, of course, he couldn't ignore the fact that there was one hell of a lot of work to go into the place. It was run down and wires stuck out all over like it had been destroyed by those who wanted the wiring inside but hadn't realized that prefab couldn't take copper. They would have had little use for the much cheaper CCA and fiber optic hybrid cabling that had a considerably lower price in the market.
He would need to look into replacing most of the wiring, although from the looks of the lights and the outlets, almost everything was still functioning.
It definitely would take considerable work but it would be worth it. Taylor returned to his truck and retrieved the tools that would enable him to start on it right away.
No time like the present.
His efforts started in the parking lot, of all places. All the talk about how this would be a dangerous location told him that security had to be his first concern, and honestly, it was the quickest thing to accomplish.
He had set up scores of night camps in the Zoo and the basics of it didn't change, even in this location. Obviously, he couldn't set up any turrets that would shoot people on sight. That was illegal, but it would be nice to know if he could expect to have company, which would give him time to prepare for it appropriately.
Seismic sensors wouldn't do in this location since cars and trucks were likely to set them off by driving across the road, but the basics of setting up camp remained the same. The motion sensors would be rigged to not trigger if something smaller than the average stray cat crossed their lines. He planned to set these up all around the property to give him a solid view of the surrounding area to a distance of about fifty yards.
It was quick work to rig the system up to one of his laptops to provide a second by second feed of the area as well as send updates to his phone should anyone breach the perimeter. He would need to find some way for it to recognize him and Bungees. It would be a pain to constantly receive notifications every time he and his employee moved around.
Either that or they would have to set it up only when they weren't there or once Taylor had settled in for the night.
Still, it was better than nothing and more advanced than the average security system in this neighborhood, or so he assumed. There would be time to set cameras up that would give him a comprehensive view of the premises without needing to leave the shop.
That was the dream, really. He wouldn’t have to interact with anyone unless he really, really wanted to.
He stepped out to where he'd parked the truck, started it, and moved it farther into the parking lot and closer to the grocery store section of the building. His phone buzzed before he had enough time to even start unloading his belongings.
A quick check told him that someone had already breached the perimeter. Not him, although there was a register of that too, but three figures that moved across the parking lot toward him.
Taylor sighed, pushed himself away from the vehicle, and turned to face the newcomers. All were dressed in what they might have thought was classy clothing. The reality was that no one would be brave enough to tell them it was way too shiny to be considered anything other than compensating for something.
No one needed to warn him that he was about to meet the local branch of organized crime in the neighborhood. Taylor couldn't see any distinctive gang affiliation, but there were enough cheap prison tats to confirm that they weren't there for a pleasant chat.
"Good afternoon, sir," one of the three—the apparent leader—said and gave Liz an appreciative look before he turned to face him. His pleasant smile revealed a line of silver and gold grills that could hardly be considered reassuring. "We heard someone was moving into these here premises and thought we would welcome you to the neighborhood."
"Well, it’s always nice to meet the neighbors," Taylor answered and made a careful study of the area to make sure it was only the three of them. All the men were armed but they kept their weapons hidden for the moment. "How long have you guys been around here?"
"Oh, we've been in and out of the area over the past few years, yeah," one of the others told him. "What brings you to our lovely neighborhood?"
"Business," he replied. "As in mine and the kind I don't appreciate talking about."
"Hey, we appreciate that a man's business is his own business," the first man said, raised his hands, and smiled. "We don't want to make you feel unwelcome around here in any way."
"I appreciate that." There were no prizes for anticipating the pitch that would inevitably follow.
"With that said, we do feel that in the spirit of neighborly appreciation, you should be worried that working around here will be a little dangerous," the leader said with a meaningful glance at both their surroundings and the neighborhood in general. "There's a fair amount of trouble with a local…uh, criminal element."
"You don't say?" Taylor raised an eyebrow.
"I know, it’s a terrible situation," the grilled man continued. "Which is why we are here to present you with a fantastic opportunity—the kind that would be impossible to pass up. It's insurance, see, the kind that would allow your business to run smoothly without having to worry about any kind of unpleasantness."
"I don't suppose you guys are connected to any of the national insurance agencies, huh?"
"We're a small, local business, sure, but we get results," the third man said. He definitely seemed to be the bad mobster to the others' more pleasant roles.
"Yeah, no offense, but I wouldn't trust you with a…uh,” Taylor scratched his cheek. “Damn it, I had something for this," he muttered. "The point is, I don't trust you. I know they say to not judge a book by its cover, but when three dumbasses straight out of a fucking Breaking Bad episode try to run their shitty racketeering gig past me… Well, some books can be judged by their covers, am I right?"
The leader maintained a fake smile through his tirade and shook his head at the end of it. "I merely don't want anyone to get hurt, but if you feel confident enough to risk everything you have, I don't think we can do anything to change your mind. I'll tell you what. We'll come by tomorrow and see if you still feel the same way."
"I can guarantee that I will," Taylor replied.
"Have a nice day, sir." The man motioned for the other two to follow him to the low-riding Cadillac they had arrived in.
Well, he had expected to have a little more time before h
e needed to take care of the local criminal element, but it would simply have to factor into his plans of setting the shop up. He intended to do it anyway and there was no time like the present to make sure the locals knew he was not to be fucked with.
He watched them pull out of the parking lot.
Once he was on his own again, Taylor worked on positioning the cameras around the building, then hauled the mech suits out of the back of the truck and used some mechanized help to guide them inside. They were easily the most expensive pieces he owned and would need special care once he was settled in.
There were other items, thankfully—the kind that would allow him to settle in immediately without having to spend another night at the hotel. He had already checked out that morning, so all that remained was to find a space that would offer some degree of comfort.
He intended to live there anyway—that was the plan, after all—so there was no point in delaying the shit.
It couldn't have been more than two hours, just as the sun began to drift into the western skyline, when his phone buzzed in his pocket again.
"Fucking dumbasses." He hissed in irritation, picked it up, and studied the camera feeds.
The thugs had returned. Well, he realized, not the three he had met since they were probably supposed to be the front men. That was obviously their ploy to avoid arrest when they arrived the next day to see if the unfortunate they had tried to force into their racket was ready to be dragged in now that they had been robbed and roughed up.
Taylor didn’t appreciate their business strategy, nor the fact that having to deal with them interfered with his work. He wasn't particularly worried about them doing any damage, but he would need to call the police and watch and wait for them to arrive.
That really wasn't fair, especially for a guy who was only starting off in a recently purchased property.
He considered the possibility of simply paying the assholes off, but he didn't have enough hard cash on him to make the payment even if he could persuade himself to do it.
Besides, there was the small matter that he did not want to have to continue to pay them to not rob him blind. That scenario was still robbery but essentially with the consent of the victim, willing or otherwise.
Hired Killer (Cryptid Assassin Book 1) Page 8
