The Starks Trilogy (Book 1 & 2)
Page 50
Tank, Pete, and Stinky approached him, grinning as they showed off small dragon heads tattooed on their right hands.
Tank said, “We figured we’d earned them in the fight with Crazy D’s bunch. Tat Man said you paid him to never use yours again. You weren’t around to ask, but we convinced him it was okay to give us small versions that didn’t exactly match yours. Hope you’re not pissed we got them without talking to you first.”
“It’s fine.”
“Hey,” Pete said, “look over there.” He pointed to the opposite side of the yard where three inmates surrounded another inmate who looked too young to even shave. “Those sharks are circling a guppy.”
“We should go over there,” Starks told them.
“Maybe we shouldn’t,” Jackson said. “Not our business. Enough fights find us. We don’t need to go looking for them.”
Several of the recruits looked back and forth at Starks and Jackson. Starks’s expression made it clear he wasn’t pleased. Jackson held up his hands in surrender. They followed Starks’s lead and moved toward the confrontation with casual gaits and postures, stopping within hearing distance.
The tallest of the three in the confrontation said, “I’m gonna teach you a lesson today, you little prick.”
The young man raised his hands. “I’m not looking for a fight. Besides, I don’t think it would be a fair one.” He glanced at the other two inmates glaring at him. “Your girlfriends might decide to jump in.”
Other inmates in the yard who’d gathered around laughed.
The tall man grabbed the young man’s shirt with his left hand. He clenched his right hand and drew it back, ready to connect. “Lookit, fellas, we got us a goddamn comedian here.” He moved his face to within inches of the young man’s. “I don’t like comedians.”
The young inmate waved a hand in front of his face. “Damn. Ever heard of a toothbrush? Or a Tic Tac? Your breath kicks like Bruce Lee.”
More inmates laughed, including Starks and his crew.
One of three men grabbed the young man and put him into a headlock. The tall man delivered blows to the young man’s face and abdomen. The third man kicked the young man in the chest.
Starks moved forward and said, “That’s enough. Fight one-on-one or drop it.”
The tall man turned to face Starks. “Fuck off, unless you want some of this.”
One of the other two said, “He’s just joking, Starks. He don’t mean it.” He said to the tall man, “Let the kid go.” Turning back to Starks he added, “We was just training this new fish. You know, teaching him some respect.”
The tall man’s expression reflected equal parts of rage and confusion. He shoved the young man to the dusty ground, and the three inmates started to walk away. Starks heard the tall one ask what the hell was going on and the other inmate say he’d explain once they were inside.
Starks put his hand out to help the young man up. “What’s your name, son?”
“Trevor.”
“Got a last name?”
“Morgan.”
“I’ve got a group coming together.” He gestured toward the men standing around him. “We’re still in the early stages of organizing, but we watch each others’ backs. You’re welcome to join us so you don’t have to worry about this kind of thing happening again, or at least, not so easily.” He pointed to Jackson. “This is Jackson, my go-to guy. You have a problem, talk to him. We’ll see what we can do to make your problem go away.”
“I can handle myself.”
Starks arched an eyebrow. “That’s not what it looked like to me.”
“No way I’m joining a gang. I want to get out early, for good behavior.”
“Off to a good start, I see. Fact is it doesn’t always work out that way. We’re not like the gangs here that go looking for trouble or creating it. We’re more like a club or…” He glanced at Jackson.
Jackson smiled and said, “Fellowship.”
Starks nodded. “We step in to protect those who need it and each other.” He gestured toward the bleachers and said, “Sit with us a little while.”
Starks, Trevor, and Jackson sat in the center of the entourage; names and nods were exchanged.
Trevor wiped his palms on his pants and blew out a breath. “Look, I’m letting you know right off I’m not available for sex.”
A few seconds of silence were followed by laughter.
Starks said, “We don’t roll like that.” He looked at the new recruits. “And anyone who does will wish he hadn’t.” He turned back to Trevor. “I just said we’re into protecting others. Look, Trevor, you’re obviously a prison virgin. I was one myself not too long ago. As much as you intend good behavior, one or more assholes in here are going to fuck that up for you. What you don’t want is for them to fuck you up.” Starks lifted his shirt.
Trevor’s eyes opened wide, fear and repulsion obvious in his expression. But he wasn’t alone in his reaction.
“Attractive, aren’t they?” Starks said. “Trying to go it alone or with the wrong people can get you into shit you never dreamed of. Someone I liked and respected was murdered in here not too long ago. Skullars Bailey was a good person who didn’t belong here, and was bigger than Tank. I saw him take out three guys like they were twigs, not that they didn’t make him bleed first. He wasn’t looking for a fight; he didn’t want to get into trouble, either. They wanted him to be their sex toy. He refused and fought back. I saw what they did to him in retaliation. Feel as cocky as you like, but play it smart and keep your jibes to yourself.” Starks smoothed his shirt back into place.
Trevor’s gaze drifted to Starks’s face. “Okay if I get back to you?”
“Don’t take too long. In here, seconds can mean the difference between life and death.”
CHAPTER 45
IT WAS GENUINE relief Starks felt when he saw Trevor standing behind Jackson in line for their breakfast trays. It was satisfying to see the other recruits, as well. Half the crew sat across from the other half, with only minor shifting of places so they weren’t squeezed together. Starks made certain he sat next to Trevor.
Tank was positioned across from Trevor, and the only one of them who shoveled food into his mouth.
Trevor said, “You’d think you were eating prime rib the way you’re going after this slop.”
Tank swallowed and said, “I don’t play around when it comes to eating. Had too many days with no food when I was growing up. Tastes good, tastes like shit—don’t matter to me; it’s going in my belly.”
Trevor said, “Looks like you made up for lost time.”
“Now I’m doing time.” Tank laughed and added, “Three squares and a bed. This is a fucking luxury hotel compared to what I had before.”
Starks cleared his throat. “I’m calling a meeting in a few days. Everyone sitting here now needs to be there. I’ll pick a time that should work for everyone. We’ll meet in the laundry room.”
Jackson asked, “Wouldn’t the yard be better?”
Starks shook his head. “Too easy to get into some kind of altercation. Just make sure you bring clothes and whatever, even if you don’t wash them.”
A few minutes later, Tank rapped on the table. The others did the same, causing more than a few heads to turn their way at the racket.
Jackson caught up to Starks on his way out of the chow hall. Keeping pace he said, “Sanchez told me to tell you he’ll meet with you in the library at two o’clock today.”
“Tell him I look forward to it.”
“He wants me to be there.”
“Is that a problem for you?”
“Not exactly.”
“Sanchez likes you, Jackson, if like is the right word for it. So why are you acting anxious?”
“His expression made me think he’s not happy about something.”
Starks smiled. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”
“Anybody who doesn’t worry about The Razor needs his head examined.” Jackson trailed Starks into their cell.
“I hate it when you’re closed-mouthed. You keep calling me your go-to guy. I need to know what’s what.”
“Anyone asks you for information you don’t have… you’re a self-proclaimed mentalist: fake it.”
“When are you going to get that I’m on your side?”
Starks grabbed a book and plopped onto his bunk. “I’ll see you at two.”
He’d learned the hard way that everyone was first and foremost on their own side, no matter what they said. Their mantra was always, “What’s in it for me?” Just as in business, you had to give them enough to keep them hanging around in hope of getting more. There was a time he’d believed in absolute loyalty, before his stupidity or naivety was shattered by reality. Sure, the family he grew up with was loyal to each other, but that kind of devotion stopped there. And even then, there was more often than not a personal agenda attached. As far as people who didn’t share your blood went, you could forget it. Loyalty was a word bandied about with the same indifference as the word love. Empty syllables that sounded good.
He wondered how loyal Jackson would feel after he learned what the real plan was.
CHAPTER 46
STARKS RETRIEVED HIS phone from under the desk and tucked it away. A few minutes after two, Jackson entered the library followed by Sanchez and two of his soldiers. Starks indicated with a nod of his head for them to follow him into the office. Inmates glanced up, saw who was there, and went quickly back to what they were doing.
Once the office door was closed, Starks extended his hand to Sanchez, which the Hermanos leader shook.
Gesturing to each of his men, Sanchez said, “This is Miguel. And this one is Antonio.”
Starks shook their hands then focused on Sanchez. “I’ll get straight to the point: I want in on your cell phone business.”
Sanchez looked at his men and chuckled, “What cell phone business?”
Jackson cleared his throat.
“C’mon, Sanchez.” Starks grinned. “No games, okay?”
“The business is doing okay without you. Why would I want to split my profit even more?”
“Do you know what I did on the outside?”
Miguel stepped forward. “This is prison, amigo. What you did out there don’t mean shit in here.”
Sanchez frowned and said, “Callate la boca.”
Miguel drew back. “Con respeto.”
Sanchez cracked his knuckles then studied the ragged nails of one hand. “You and me, we have what we call mutual respect, but I really don’t know you to do business with you.”
“What if I told you I can increase your profit by thirty percent? That’s after the split.”
Miguel and Antonio glanced at Sanchez, who stared at the ceiling. “I’ll give you a chance to prove yourself.” He aimed his dark eyes at Starks. “But I warn you: I’m not someone you want to fuck with.”
“Wouldn’t think of it,” Starks replied.
“I have a question,” Jackson said. “What about the others involved?”
Starks looked at Jackson then at Sanchez. “I’m not doing business with anybody but you. You’re the only one I trust.”
“My partners don’t like you, but money talks. If you can make us more, they’ll allow you in and leave you alone. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Even Crazy D?”
“Let me worry about him.”
“Then that’s settled.”
“That business is, but there’s something I want from you.”
Starks fought back the self-satisfied smile. Here it was: The agenda. “I’m listening.”
“I want a two-year supply of the powders. I’ll pay. Or, you can take it out of my profit.”
Starks shook his head.
Sanchez narrowed his eyes and flexed his hands. Jackson glanced toward the door.
“Let me explain,” Starks said. “It doesn’t work that way. Each batch’s effectiveness lasts only so long. Plus, it took a while to whip up the small amount he prepared for me. I’ll need time to work on this.”
Sanchez’s grin stretched wide. “I like you, amigo. You’re very… accommodating.”
“Tell you what. I’ll arrange the powders, of course, but I’ll pay for the first batch, if you’ll let Felipe train me and my crew to fight.”
“You call it a crew?” Sanchez shook his head and grinned. “I tell you what, amigo,” he moved closer to Starks, “you pay for these powders, and I give you a discount on the training for four men. The rest of them you pay full-price. Business is business, si?”
A brief discussion ensued about how payment would be handled, commissary always the winner. They shook on it. Sanchez swaggered out of the office with his two men trailing him.
Jackson asked, “You’re seriously going to get him the powders? You realize how that would mess everything up?”
“He’s not getting a fucking thing.”
“Shit, Starks. The man’s going to slice and dice you and sell the bits as mementos to inmates.”
“I’ll tell him something he’ll believe, as I just did.”
“You’re too damn reckless. Maybe he’ll be forgiving when you increase his profits, but I doubt it. He wants the power of the powders, man.”
“I don’t plan on splitting anything.” In response to the expression on Jackson’s face, Starks added, “Don’t worry, you’ll get your cut.”
“I’m more worried about the cut The Razor will give us. What the hell, Starks? You on a fucking suicide mission?”
“I’m on a mission to take over.”
A stunned moment of silence was followed by, “You’re going to get us both killed.”
“You know what your problem is, Jackson? You only look at the next move in front of you. You have to look ahead. Ten steps ahead.”
“Sure. But when I see a cliff ten steps ahead, I don’t keep going.”
CHAPTER 47
THE NEXT MORNING, on his way out of the chow hall, Starks saw the man he wanted to see and quickened his pace to catch up to him.
“Felipe, I have something to discuss with you.”
“Sanchez told me. When do you want training to start?”
“We’ll arrange that however it works for you, but I’d like my lessons to be private. And I want a head start on the others.”
Felipe stared at Starks a moment then nodded. “You don’t want to be seen as less in front of your men.”
“Something like that.”
“I can train you at noon. If you can’t make it then…” Felipe shrugged.
“I’ll be there.”
“We start today.”
Starks tried to read in his cell but was too restless to sit still. He scoured and polished everything in the cell he could. He reorganized his meager possessions, and Jackson’s, not caring what his cellmate might say about his things being handled. Then he repeated some of his morning exercise routine to warm up his muscles.
When the clock read a quarter to noon, Starks grabbed what he’d need for a shower after training and made his way to the gym.
Felipe was doing stretches on his usual mat. He rotated his shoulders to loosen them and said, “All right, Starks. We’ll start with the basics.”
Starks put his towel, clean clothes, and toiletries down. “I’m ready.”
The session lasted forty minutes. Starks, drenched in sweat, was sore but satisfied.
Felipe said, “You’ve got some skills, but we need to work on refinement, once you’ve learned more. I saw you wince and rub your abdomen a few times.”
“Just the scars. They’ll loosen up.”
“You have to tell me if anything we do is too much. Last thing you want to do is reopen wounds.”
“I seem to excel at that. Not these,” Starks patted his abdomen. “The ones you can’t see.” He pointed to his heart.
Felipe nodded. “When do you want me to start training the others?
“In a couple weeks.
I’ll set it up with you first.”
Felipe smiled. “When you want something, you expect to get it.”
“I’m just like everybody else in that respect.”
“Maybe, amigo. But I think not.” Felipe’s attention went to the door. “My people are here.”
Starks turned to look as he wiped his face and head with his towel. “Do they have a problem with you training me and my men?”
“They know better than to argue with Sanchez. Besides,” Felipe grinned, “they know how much I want the tattoo.”
Starks grabbed his items and headed for the door, nodding as he passed the five Hermanos soldiers. He needed to get trained and good at it soon. Same for his men. There was only so long he could stall Sanchez about the powders and the phone profits. Timing was everything. Eventually, as the saying went, the shit would hit the fan.
He and his men had to be ready.
CHAPTER 48
STARKS RUSHED THROUGH his shower then speed-walked back to his cell. He stuffed the cell phone into his underwear then hurried to the library.
Sam Carson was seated at the desk in the office. “Your expression says you’re either going to tell me why you can’t be here or ask me to get the hell out so you can do whatever.”
Starks grinned. “A little of both this time. I have something I have to do every day at noon. We need to arrange my morning shifts so I can be there on time.”
“Always up to something.” Carson rubbed his face with both hands. “Anyone else, I’d say no way or tell him to find another job. What the hell. Whatever.”
“You’re a good man, Sam. You can go now.”
“I can—? You got some balls on you, you know that?”
“That’s what women tell me.”
Carson slapped his hands on the desk and pressed against it to raise himself. “Maybe one day you’ll tell me what the hell you’re cooking up.” He reached the door and said with fake deference, “Would you like me to close the door, sir?”
“If you don’t mind.”
“Fuck you.”
Starks laughed and sat in the chair. He retrieved the phone and punched in Jim’s number. “What do you know about Gabe Bianchi?”