by Michael Todd
“Oh, okay.” Joshua nodded. “You are saying, stick with your strengths. Learn your weaknesses, but operate where you are the strongest.”
“Yes,” Mamacita agreed.
“So, like Katie—she helped get the business on track, but she was overwhelmed in the beginning,” Joshua said. “You and Korbin have a lot more experience on the business side, so you are taking over that part—at least for now—to make sure the company runs smoothly—so you aren’t having to dump money into it all the time because of bad deals with suppliers. Also, you are making sure that when I have done my job, you have a home for the product. It’s like a circle where we want the strongest people we can have at each point, so that we stay strong all the way through from beginning to end.”
“You got it.” Mamacita smiled, a glint of pride in her eyes. “You are even smarter than you give yourself credit for. You understand complexity in such a unique way, and it’s wonderful and refreshing. Now, I do want to point out that just because Katie didn’t know what to do, it doesn’t mean she was a bad owner. She reached out. In fact, being willing to reach out for help even when you are at the top is a very big indicator that you are a leader.”
“I’ve always wanted to be a leader, but it’s really hard because I get so nervous, and sometimes I get confused,” Joshua admitted.
“And that’s okay, because guess what? You are the leader in your specialty,” Mamacita told him. “Just like Korbin and I are leaders in ours. You are the boss of the weapons.”
“I think I know what I need to do, then,” he said, closing his notebook. “Instead of focusing on something I’m not good at, I should be perfecting what I do best.”
“That’s a very good way to look at it,” Mamacita agreed. “And what is your plan?”
“Well, I think what I want to do is talk to Katie about finding more help to get the production up,” he replied. “Of course, that would depend on whether the girls are interested in having more work here, or more hours doing this instead of their other jobs. They are the only ones that would be allowed in the building, so I would have to come up with another idea if they aren’t interested. Maybe someone from the team, but I doubt it.”
“I would be more than happy to speak to the girls on your behalf,” Mamacita responded. “I just want you to remember that most of these girls have scraped by since Day One of their little lives, and while they love being here and getting a break from their other work, some of them are in it strictly for the money. Unfortunately, knowing the books, you wouldn’t be able to afford to pay some of them enough to leave their other job. It isn’t personal. If they were given the freedom and money didn’t matter, they would almost all choose to work here with all these wonderful people—and you, whom they all adore. Unfortunately the world isn’t always a fair place, so we make do. Just like you have in the past—sleeping in your van and doing the best you could.”
Joshua stood up. “Thank you, Mamacita. You have helped me, at least to understand this better.”
The wind blew through Katie’s hair as she cruised along the boulevard, taking in the scenery, feeling her own car beneath her, and actually enjoying the attention she was getting for once. Everyone loved the car, and it was pretty obvious that they thought the girl in it was smoking hot too. Katie admitted it was going straight to her head. She hadn’t had attention like that in a long time. In fact, she didn’t know if she’d ever experienced attention like this before.
I love this interior, Pandora gushed. It’s gorgeous! It’s color-coordinated, and it is really comfortable to sit on. Seriously, the last time I rode in any kind of vehicle-type-thing it was a carriage, and let me tell you…those carriages in Rome, they were not comfortable in the least. Even when I rode with the finest ladies of Rome, the pillows didn’t keep my ass from getting sore. It was horrible most of the time.
Damn! What was Rome like? Katie asked.
Smelly, hot, and there were breasts hanging out everywhere, she replied. But all in all it was really beautiful, what with the grapes and the wrath and the murder. It was juicier than our soap opera, that’s for damn sure.
Katie wrinkled her nose. That sounds horrible!
Maybe for a human, but for me it was heaven, Pandora replied. The carriages, they only had one advantage over these tiny little cars, and that was space. You could, if the road was not too bumpy, enjoy yourself physically in a carriage in olden times. Whether you were all alone taking care of your business or with others, there was enough room to bend forward, backward, grab your ankles—whatever he preferred.
You are the worst, Katie grumped. Seriously, you should be focusing on the positives, and instead you are telling raunchy sex stories for kicks and to get a rise out of me.
Oh, honey, Pandora replied. You are giving yourself way too much credit. I am just reminiscing, not trying to get a rise out of you. Maybe the guys in the barracks, but not you.
Katie sighed. Okay, go on…I want to hear all about Rome. Was it the way it is in movies?
Actually, yes. They have done a respectable job in most of the movies you have shown me of depicting what the scenery was like, where people lived, and how they dressed. They have done an amazing job with it, in fact. The only thing I can say is, women mostly wore dresses and these shawls called “pallas,” not togas…even the poorer women. Men wore togas on a daily basis, but the extremely poor people wore these tunic things. But any woman with her name on the Roman’s lips, she wore some sort of beautiful dress, lots of them imported. I, of course, wore all the latest fashions, and could woo just about any man I wanted while I was there. It was one of my favorite periods in history.
Did you take many lovers in Rome? Katie asked.
Oh, look at you, asking the right question! Pandora snickered. The answer to that is yes. Those Romans, they sure knew how to do a woman right. They were so strong, so manly, and the way their bodies glistened in the firelight was fantastic. And that Nero…oh my, did he know how to blow off some steam!”
Wait, Nero, as in the Emperor Nero? Katie asked. The emperor who was Claudius’ heir and reigned over Rome until his death in 68 A.D.?
You know your history, don’t you? Pandora laughed. Yes, that Nero. Emperor Nero.
Did you have anything to do with how despicable Nero was? Katie asked.
Nero was a master of his time. A child of the Roman chaos, Pandora told her.
Right, so did you have anything to do with his murders, his debauchery, or his persecution of Christians?
He had learned his hate at an early age. He was too naïve to understand the world around him but too pig-headed to slow down and learn, so he made a lot of mistakes. But I will make it clear that no matter how much he liked music, he was in no way a fiddler.
What’s wrong with fiddlers? Katie asked. And you are dodging my questions. Did you have anything to do with his suicide, then?
Let me just be clear on something, Pandora continued, dodging the question. Nero was his own special brand of wrong all by himself. He didn’t need me or anyone else to move him along.
You did have something to do with it, didn’t you? Katie gasped.
Did you know that I spent a brief bit of time in this country right after Columbus sailed the ocean blue?
You mean when he came onto native territory and shot and murdered over thirty people, and that was just him? Katie asked.
Well, you have your own viewpoint on the settlement, Pandora said. Though I have to say, you are pretty up on our political view of history.
It isn’t political, Katie snapped, irritation rising. It’s the truth, unguarded and unfiltered. It is what the schools should be teaching, but instead they celebrate Christopher Columbus and pretend like historical events never happened.”
“Are there still Indians?” Pandora asked.
“A ton,” Katie said. “But we call them natives or indigenous people or First Nations people now. Or you can call them by their tribe name, which they usually give out when introducing themselves.
Our government gave them tiny bits of land and they made do with what they had, but we still treat them terribly today.
Leave it to the human race to be even more despicable than the demons sometimes, Pandora muttered. I can still see those pioneers, as they called them, shooting the Indians right in the face.
Anyway, Katie continued, I can tell that you don’t want to talk about Nero and your part in his torture and murder of dozens of people, but how can you sleep with someone who took someone else’s lives in rage like that?
I am a demon, Katie, Pandora answered in an even tone. You forgot that again.
Yeah, yeah. Katie sighed.
Katie made a right turn and drove as fast as she could through an alley, hoping that no one walked in front of her.
She really wanted to open up the new car and feel that adrenaline rush, but she figured she would just wait until she could get out in the desert or something like that. In the meantime, it was about time for her to start heading back to the base.
She’d had a big day, and she couldn’t wait to wow everyone with her new car. Hopefully Korbin didn’t completely lose his shit with her, though.
Chapter 12
Even though it was dangerous, Charlotte was secretly having a blast doing undercover work for Korbin and his team.
She felt like a real reporter, and for once she believed she was actually doing something worthwhile, not just providing idiot readers with tabloid headlines to fuel their conspiracy obsessions.
She was looking for a real bad guy, and attempting to get enough information to nail him for whatever atrocities he was bringing into the world.
That night she dressed carefully, not wearing one of her normal underground outfits. She didn’t put on excessive makeup, nor lace up her black calf-height boots. Instead she wore a nice dress, blue and white, with her hair down her back with little ringlets at the bottom, and she spritzed herself with the perfume her mother had given her three Christmases before that was still in the box.
She left her apartment and drove to Hollywood, parking a couple of blocks away from the bar since her car wasn’t the most glamorous thing. She walked to the corner right next to the bar the politician frequented, and stood there pretending to window-shop. As soon as his car pulled up out front she scooted inside, grabbing a seat at the bar and ordering a martini for looks.
In reality she hated martinis, but shots of whiskey wouldn’t fit in with her look that night. She glanced up nonchalantly as the politician walked past, completely ignoring her.
“Best way to not be caught trailing someone,” she muttered under her breath, “is be in front of him, waiting like a spider.”
She took the small cocktail straw from her drink and sucked on it, wincing slightly at the bite of gin in the back of her throat.
She turned slightly on her stool and crossed her legs, looking up at the television but keeping the politician in her peripheral vision. He walked to a table away from the bar, and three men dressed in expensive black suits stood and shook his hand. The first man was younger, probably around Charlotte’s age, with black hair slicked to his head and large rings like her rich old uncle had worn when she was a kid. His smile was fake, and you could see the malice in his eyes.
The second man was middle-aged, short and round, balding, and he carried a pocket handkerchief in his right hand to blot the sweat from his brow. He smiled nervously, and didn’t look the politician in the eyes. He was shifty, with remnants of his lunch on his white button-up. The buttons strained across his belly.
The third man looked like the boss of the group—mid-forties, and his face was stern like a father chastising his son. He was very clean cut, and very business-like. He looked the politician in the eye, shook his hand coolly, and was the last to have a seat at the table.
The waitress quickly brought drinks over, bowing her head as if she were afraid they would eat her right there in the middle of the bar. The middle-aged man slapped the waitress on the ass, and chuckled as she jumped and scampered off with tears in her eyes.
It was obvious he came there a lot and was not a staff favorite, but he had money—and in that town, and probably every other town in the country, money talked.
Anti-harassment legislation didn’t always make it down to the street-level.
The men leaned in and started talking and Charlotte slowly shifted toward them, trying to aim herself in their direction without being caught. She strained her ears, but she couldn’t figure out what they were talking about.
“Is your drink okay, miss?” the bartender asked, startling Charlotte.
“Oh, yes. It’s wonderful, thank you,” Charlotte told the man as she looked at her drink and up at him. “I’m just so into this...this…uh, hockey game.”
She looked up at the television, realizing what she was staring at, and nervously laughed. He raised both eyebrows before throwing his towel over his arm and walking away.
He wasn’t part of it, she could tell, but now he thought she was neurotic.
Maybe she was. She shrugged and picked an olive out of her drink, popping it into her mouth as she glanced over at the table. The round man pulled an envelope from his jacket’s inside pocket and handed it to the leader of the group, who proffered the envelope to the politician. He said something as he held it out, but Charlotte could only make out the words, “this is it.” He put the envelope down on the table and tapped his finger on it before standing up and buttoning his jacket.
Charlotte turned back toward the bar as the other two stood, followed by the politician. The leader of the three men threw some cash down on the table and shook the politician’s hand, smiling. The politician hadn’t changed his blank expression the entire time he was there.
Charlotte turned her head away as the men left the table and dispersed, walking out the front door and then all in different directions. The politician got back into his car, and it sped off. Charlotte looked back at the table and saw the envelope sitting there.
She paid the bartender and walked toward the bathroom in the back, nonchalantly grabbing the envelope from the table and slipping it into her purse.
When she was alone and hiding in a bathroom stall, she pulled the card from the envelope and read it. It was an invitation to an exclusive event in Las Vegas for VIPs, with gambling, an open bar, and a very exclusive party at the end. It was not really a scene for a low-level politician, but knowing what else he was into, this party just might be his next hit.
Charlotte shoved the card in her purse and left, wanting to get the information back to Calvin, Katie, and the others.
Fast.
Derek, Calvin, Eric, and Jeremy were all lounging in the main area, recovering from their day’s shenanigans. Jeremy was reading a book about Area 51 he had picked up, Eric was watching some cooking show on the television, Calvin was eating, as usual, and Derek was slumped in his chair flipping through his phone, occasionally chuckling at some stupid picture he found. The evening was relaxed, everyone decompressing and readying themselves for another training day in the morning.
“Where is Katie?” Damian asked as he entered the main area.
“I don’t know,” Jeremy replied. “Last we saw her, we dropped her off at Bootlegger before heading to Area 51, but that was earlier today. We haven’t heard from her since.”
“Oh, lord,” Damian said, rolling his eyes. “They are probably rolling the girl out of the restaurant at this point.”
“I’ll text her.” Calvin switched to his messaging app, chuckling. “Maybe shake her out of her food coma.”
Calvin typed a text, but before he could send it, everyone heard a car engine revving. Damian walked over to the window and glanced out, and a smile moved across his lips. He shook his head and looked back at the gang.
“I found her.” Damian chuckled, pointing out the window. “You guys might want to see this.”
One by one the guys looked out the window and then ran for the door, taking the stairs two at a time until they reached
the door to the outside. Katie laughed when the door slammed open and the guys piled out, oohing and awing at the sleek design of her California T.
They circled the car, reaching toward it but afraid to touch it. She turned off the engine and hopped out, walking over to Damian.
“Wow, that’s a nice ride,” he told her, nodding. “I don’t think they sell those at Bootlegger, though.”
She laughed. “No, I ordered it last week.”
“You ordered what last week?” Korbin asked as he walked up to them.
“That,” Katie said, nodding to her new car.
“Whoa!” Korbin exclaimed, staring from the Ferrari to Katie with an eyebrow raised. “How in the world did you pull that off?”
“Just like that.” Katie snapped her fingers.
“It’s, uh, pretty sweet,” Korbin agreed. “But seriously, how did you pull it off?”
“I got a fake identity—which is actually not fake, just not my original one—and I paid cash at the dealership,” she explained.
Korbin slapped his hand over his eyes and shook his head. Katie could tell he wasn’t too happy, but at the same time he wasn’t making a big deal about it. He took it in stride, which was different for him. He uncovered his eyes and looked at the guys, who were all drooling over the car.
He finally laughed. “That is really awesome. It’s a beautiful car, but I think you unleashed a monster.”
“What monster?” Katie asked, pulling her brows together.
