The Moolie of Port Town.

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Captain Canada
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The Moolie of Port Town.

Post by Captain Canada » 24 Nov 2021, 20:11

Bruce gonna end up face down in a puddle, I see the vibes.

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Soapy
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The Moolie of Port Town.

Post by Soapy » 29 Nov 2021, 02:49

Captain Canada wrote:
24 Nov 2021, 20:11
Bruce gonna end up face down in a puddle, I see the vibes.
took a little break (fixed some potential plot holes) but tomorrow we byke.

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Soapy
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The Moolie of Port Town.

Post by Soapy » 29 Nov 2021, 18:51

"He chokes up on his bat," Bobby spat at the ground, "I don't know, it's like no matter what I tell him, he still does it."

"At least he ain't scared to swing," Michael reasoned with his padrino, "My Junior is fucking terrified of the ball."

"He's only four and he's sticking with it," Bobby patted Michael on the back, "With you, it was soccer and then baseball and then football and then basketball and then you forgot which side of the sea you was from and thought you could be an Olympic sprinter."

"What can I say? 84' got to me, I thought I was going to be the next Carl Lewis."

"You and your old man," Bobby shook his head with a smile, "I can't believe he actually went, you know, I always thought he was bullshitting."

Bobby Jr.'s team failed to score in a run for another inning as they now all trotted out onto the field to play defense. With his son way out on the left corner of the field, Bobby took the opportunity to take a walk and talk shop with Michael.

"How's everything running?"

"It's alright," Michael shrugged, "Even better if our friend at the top would let me and my guys cut it but fuck it, what are you going to do?"

"He don't like you holding it," Bobby explained, "He's just looking for you, that's all. Bring it in and get it the fuck out, that's the only way to stay afloat out here. You start cutting it, well, you need a place to store it, a spot to cut it, people to cut it. You need to hire a couple slap dicks, all of a sudden one gets an assault charge..."

"I know, I know. I'm just saying, we're leaving money on the table."

"How's your uncle?" Bobby asked, "He's doing okay with the arrangement?"

"Doing better than you and I both," Michael laughed, "He looks like a million bucks these days, talks like it too."

"He wasn't too chatty at dinner the other night," Bobby recollected, "When we was over at Joey's."

"Joey Bags? Our Joey?" Michael was incredulous, as even he, a good earner and a proven asset, didn't have dinner with Joey, not on Sunday's.

"Yeah," Bobby answered, "Those two have been getting real cozy"

"Who would have guessed it?," Michael pondered, "I love the guy but Jesus Christ, the constant whining and moaning and complaining gets tired after a while."

"What can I say? Bruce is Bruce."

"He's lining his pockets is what," Michael added, "Pass the fork, that's all I'm asking. He needs help with this, he needs help with that, we help him. Shit, he's even got your nephew and Fabio's guy doing work for him too now. I'm not trying to speak out of line but, you know, I know things with the union and and the jobs haven't been flowing exactly like how they used to with you and your boys. Do you see him pinching in, offering help? Never, I love the guy but come on, you're supposed to eat with your friends, with your family."

"What work?"

"What?"

"Work," Bobby looked over to see that his son's team was now batting but this was far more important, "You said he's got Fabio's guy doing work, what are you talking about? Big Mike?"

"No," Michael replied, "The creepy one, he's always hovering that one."

"Charlie?"

"Yeah, him. They keep finding things that fell off a truck every now and then and now, I'm hearing Joey's got them a contract to do some work out of state or some shit."

"Does Fabio know this?"

"Fabio runs a fucking cleaner," Michael mocked him, "Fucking slick hair Fabio with his suits and shit."

"Easy there," Bobby warned him, "Show some respect, he's got his stripes."

Michael backed off, conceding to his mentor, "



"I'm just saying, if you were, it's okay."

"Fuck off," Donte scoffed, blushing a bit.

"I'm serious," Charlie bit into his sandwich, "There's nothing wrong with it, my sister dated a fag once."

"How does that work?"

"He hit and pitched," Charlie laughed at his own joke, one of his favorite past time, "All I know is he was dating my sister and then he wasn't and he started seeing a dude with a bigger beard than mine then he was dating them both. Fucking Babe Ruth over there."

"Where is this coming from?"

"Sofia brought it up," Charlie answered, "She made a lot of good points, you never bring any girl over, any time I call you, you're available. You're never busy, you know, with a woman. She wasn't judging or anything, she just was curious."

"Try doing Bruce's bidding 24/7," Donte pointed to the building in front of them, making his point as Charlie nodded.

They had been parked out front of an apartment building for the past few hours, watching and hoping that a certain mustached gentleman named Eric would come on but he seemingly never did, his black Altima still parked out front.

"Smart move," Charlie pivoted his position, "Don't need some bitch on the rag every few weeks nagging you. Just fuck 'em and pay 'em."

"I don't do that either," Donte boasted, "You're on your own there, pal."

"Come on," Charlie waved him off, "You don't ever go to Pete's spot?"

"Pete?"

"Yeah, Pete, uhh, Maninno, Marino, one of those. He got a whorehouse, all the guys hang out there."

"Even Fabio?" Donte was surprised, even though he hadn't been around the man much.

"Fuck no," Charlie laughed, "Friday, Saturday nights, the place is packed to the brim. It's where Fabio's big game goes down. I think I even saw Bruce in there once."

"You talking about a whorehouse full of guys," Donte joked, "But I'm the fanook?"

"When you're right, you're right. That was a good one," Charlie laughed, "So what, you just don't fuck anybody? That's weirder than fucking a man."

"I get to it when I get to it," Donte was a bit embarrassed by his lack of experience in that department and tried to hide it, his darker skin coming in handy. His brief and sporadic encounters with the fairer sex had left him disinterested in pursuing them in that manner.

"I'll set you up," Charlie chimed in, "With a real proper paisan."



"I don't got to ask him permission to make an earning!"

"You're dead wrong on this, Juliano!"

"Fuck you!"

"Hey," Joey brought order to the proceedings as the two men sat back down in their seat, "First and foremost, we don't need to have this kind of talk, it's uncalled for. Second, Fabio, it starts with me. Mea culpa, I should have cleared it with you."

"Yes, you should have. I don't like going about it this way," Fabio pressed on, "I think you know how this looks, Joey, this ain't just some worker either, this is my daughter's husband after all, the father to my granddaughter."

"You weren't using him," Bruce muttered, "The kid wanted to actually make some money, he's got a family to feed."

"His family is my family," Fabio fired back, "You didn't ask, you didn't even fucking apologize either, after the fact."

"Fine then," Bruce laid back in his chair and crossed his arm, "For any work that anyone has ever done with Michael, I'm owed tribute."

Bruce's comment drew a sigh out of Joey given that Michael had made him plenty of money over the years.

"Not the same," Fabio wagged his finger, "Michael, Michael is his own man, he's got his own crew. We can work with him, we don't got clear it with you. Charlie, Charlie works for me."

"Why doesn't Michael work for me then?" Bruce looked at Joey and then towards Fabio, "I'm closer to him than you are to Charlie, all he did was knock up your daughter."

"Enough," Joey said, just in time as Fabio got ready to lunge at Bruce for his last comment, "Bruce, we've discussed this already. Michael has proven himself, he reports to me, me directly. You two want to work on things together, that's fine but we're done with that subject, okay? You're right, Fabio, Bruce should have made things right with you before using Charlie."

"Imagine my daughter's father being in jail," Fabio shook his head as he looked at Bruce, "Stealing a fucking truck for you."

"More honorable work than shaking a man down," Bruce remarked, "Those suits don't make you an actual business man, Bruce. You run a gambling outfit, you fuck."

"If you two want to bicker," Joey stood up, "You don't need to waste my time doing so."

Both men looked at each other and nodded, a silent agreement to be cordial.

"You mentioned tribute," Joey sat back down, "I think that's the way to rectify this situation, correct?"

They agreed once more.

"For the next score, kick forty-five to Fabio, call it even. Going forward, you guys can work out an agreement if you want to keep using his man."

"Boss, that's criminal. Forty-five? Twenty, at best!"

"It's for past work," Joey explained, "For not letting him know, for not letting me know, to make a wrong a right."

"Makes the score not even worth it," Bruce complained before eventually nodding, "For you, Joseph, I'll do it."

"I think that's fair," Fabio said with a hint of smug in his tone and on his face before shaking both of their hands, "We can go with twenty for all future work, like you said."

"Go easy on Charlie, he's a good kid. He just didn't want to get in trouble," Bruce hugged Fabio before kissing him on the cheek.

"This is what this is about gentleman," Joey got up and hugged Fabio as well before escorting him out, "Come over for dinner this Sunday, I haven't seen the family in a while."

Bruce waited for the door to close before exploding, "Forty fucking five?!"

"Relax," Joey told him, "You did good, I'm not going to forget that."

"He'd have blew a real gasket if he knew that you knew the whole time about Charlie working for me," Bruce was quick to remind Joey once more that he had fell on the sword, "How the fuck did he find out?"

"Charlie?"

"I don't see it," Bruce shook his head, "I don't get the feeling he's fond of D'Ambrosio."

"What it matters anyway? It was bound to get out, I really should have taken care of it earlier."

"Yeah, you should have had."

"You prick," Joey laughed, "Don't worry, I won't take the agreed cut, you can give Fabio fifteen from my thirty."
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Captain Canada
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The Moolie of Port Town.

Post by Captain Canada » 29 Nov 2021, 19:34

Good to have this updated. It was an interesting, character-building post.

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Soapy
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Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 23:42

The Moolie of Port Town.

Post by Soapy » 30 Nov 2021, 13:21

Captain Canada wrote:
29 Nov 2021, 19:34
Good to have this updated. It was an interesting, character-building post.
we move

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Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 23:42

The Moolie of Port Town.

Post by Soapy » 30 Nov 2021, 18:36

"Don't look at me, I didn't say shit."

"I know," Bruce sipped his tea before looking up at both of them, "Who knows? It might have been Joey for all I know, buttering his toast both way."

Donte kept quiet as it was one thing for Bruce, who had his stripes, to badmouth someone like Joey but even a slight nod from either Donte or Charlie could be held against them in the future.

Joseph 'Joey Bags' Manocchio was as thorough as they came with a rap sheet that would have made his own mother shiver. Donte found him to be likeable in his brief encounters with the man which only made him even more intriguing.

He took ten years on the chin before the government had started giving out football numbers for drug charges and beat not one but two murder charges while he was locked up, coming home just in time for Little Al's ascension. While Alphonse Fiore Sr. and Jr. of the Fiore crime family would always be the bosses, it was Joey Bags that ran things on the street level. If he wanted to butter his toast, you just asked him how much and thanked him.

"How'd he take it?" Bruce inquired of Charlie.

"He don't like me no how," Charlie said of his father in law, "What difference does it make, right?"

"What do you got on our guy?" Bruce finally asked, which was the point of them meeting him at his apartment this early in the morning despite having a two-hour drive ahead of them.

"He don't look to be too involved," Donte answered, "He gets to work early, clocks in with this other guy."

"That's probably their second man," Charlie added, "If I had to guess."

"They go out for breakfast, come back in, leave the garage with the truck and do their pickups, make the drop around four o'clock, drop the truck a little after five and they go their separate ways."

"Did you go back on a Saturday like I told you?" Bruce asked.

"Yeah," Donte replied, "They're not connected, at least they don't look it. He's got no kids, no girl from what I can tell. He was chatting up this broad at this diner he went to but I think they were just shooting the shit."

"It don't add up," Bruce wondered out loud, "It's too sweet of a score to contract out, even at just thirty percent."

"More like ten for us," Charlie scoffed, "I'm just saying."

"Don't worry about the splits," Bruce all of a sudden had a shit eating grin, "I got something for us."



Donte turned his head around once he heard the door chime and in came two guys that appeared to be in their late 30s. One of them sported a large mustache while the other had a clean shave with both of them rocking a buzz cut that one would see in a military recruiting pamphlet. They both looked around for a bit before walking towards Donte's booth.

"Good to see you boys," said the one with the mustache, "I'm Eric, we spoke on the phone. This is Oliver."

Donte felt good about himself, their prep. They were spot on.

"You can call me Oly," said the other guy as he flashed his smile and shook their hands. They both took a seat the end of the booth as silenced ruled the table.

"How's the food?" asked Eric, drawing an approving and disingenuous nod from Charlie. Donte remained quiet.

"Welcome to Branchville," Eric laughed, "The food is shit, the weather is terrible and the women are even worse."

"I saw a few joints I wouldn't mind poking," said Charlie, drawing a laugh out of everyone at the table.

"We might as well get to it," Oliver seamed eager and a bit anxious, "You guys get the car?"

"Not yet," Donte answered right away but Charlie held his hand up.

"Let's get the check first," Charlie stopped him as he pulled out his wallet and dropped a forty dollar bill on the table.

"Good tipper," Eric joked.

"People remember the faces of the bad ones," Charlie explained, not sure the nature of Eric's little sly comment.

They all got up and walked out of the restaurant before huddling up around the car that they had rented for the drive.

"What's the hold up on the car?" Eric asked.

"We get it the day of," Charlie broke his silence, "By the time someone reports it stolen and the cops are actually looking for it, it's already done with. We do it today, they'll be looking for it already."

"We'll drive around and case a few tomorrow," Donte added, "Also get acquainted with the roads and what not. We'll get it in the morning, don't worry about it."

Eric and Oliver didn't look too pleased or comfortable. They both seemed to be working men, not the type that would try to rob an armored truck, the same truck that they drove every day.

"How do we open it up? The truck," Donte asked. He had seen on the news similar robberies and figured that manufacturers of these trucks were getting wiser and figured out ways to stop this from happening.

"They got this new shit they're trying out," Oliver spoke up, "The locking mechanism...look, it needs two sets of code. One we have, the other..."

"The bank manager," Charlie sighed, "So we're robbing a bank essentially?"

They had been successful as a crew mainly because they avoided scores like this, scores that made the news, scores that left people's pockets hurting. It was one thing to rob a truck here and there or stick up an out of town card game and while the armored truck alone was some next level shit, a bank was a whole new ball game they hadn't prepped for.

"Not just him," Oliver corrected him, "Each store we do a pickup from, they got their own code which opens the truck. Now, our last stop is on Woodport, by Lake Mohawk but that area is a bit crowded, especially around that time. The last guys, they didn't want to risk so we were told it would happen while we do our pickups in Andover, a cleaners a bit off Main Street. It's real quiet in the afternoon, might not even be a customer in there if we're lucky."

"How many pickups do you have after the cleaners?" Donte asked, trying to do the math in his head.

"Six that day," Eric replied, "I was able to get a peak ahead at the schedule, it's a busy day tomorrow. We'll make sure we get assigned that route."

"Six," Charlie muttered before looking at Donte. It was a small score to begin with and adding six additional stores could double their profits but at the same time, they had no way of knowing how much was in each pickup.

"Fuck it," Charlie finally decided, "We'll do it on the last pickup, check it out tomorrow morning."

"Franco's Pizza," Eric instructed them, "It's on 15, Southbound."

"Our own people," Charlie shared a smile with Donte.



"I don't like this," Donte muttered as they remained seated inside of their freshly stolen vehicle, "They're late."

"How do you even know?"

"The guy's stepped out a few times," Donte told him, "He keeps going out back, as if he's expecting somebody."

"He ain't expecting this," Charlie joked, slightly lifting his gun.

They were practically laying down inside of the car, moving the seatback down so as to not be easily spotted and their faces remembered by anyone that walked by or into the pizza restaurant. It was a quiet day for Franco's, and perhaps that was the norm, as outside of a slight lunch rush that saw maybe half a dozen people come in and eat at the salad bar, half an hour would go by without anyone coming in with the occasional delivery going out.

It was located in a shopping complex however that had plenty of foot traffic between the nail salon, the Chinese restaurant and the grocery store as well as a dentist office and a breakfast place, although that appeared to have closed for the day. For a small town, this was probably one of the more frequented places, not exactly ideal for a robbery under broad daylight.

"Here they go," Donte sat up a bit as he saw the truck pull into the shopping complex.

It was dark red with a light gray stripe that looped around the entire truck. The truck passed in front of their car with Donte trying to make eye contact to confirm that Eric and Oliver had actually been assigned that route like they expected but he couldn't tell as the windows were tinted. It pulled around to the back of the building, stopping directly behind Franco's Pizza.

"Easy," Charlie instructed as Donte drove up behind it. Charlie threw the mask over his face as did Donte before the car came to a stop just a football throw away from the truck.

They observed as the manager came out the back of the restaurant and to Donte's relief, so did Eric from the truck. Oliver, presumably, stayed inside. Eric and the manager appeared to be friendly, chatting up some as the manager approached the back of the truck.

Donte moved the car forward some more.

Eric entered a code on the pad lock that was located a few inches from the center of the double-sided doors and the manager followed suit and just like that, the doors opened wide.

"Let's go," Charlie tapped Donte as he now drove the car around the truck until it was parked perpendicular to it. Both men sprung into action, getting out the car and practically sprinting towards them with their weapon in hand.

"Get on the fucking ground!" Charlie shouted which startled the manager. He looked at Eric who went to grab his gun but was quickly met with the butt of Charlie's shotgun which sent him stumbling to the ground, "Don't try none of that hero shit."

"Now!" Donte added as the manager obliged, looking over once more at Eric who now had blood gushing from his face. With both men on the floor, Donte directed his attention towards the driver side door, "Come out now!"

The door opened and out came Oliver, practically pale in the face with his hands in the air. Donte wasn't sure if he was doing a great acting job or was indeed terrified but either way, the end result was the same. He led Oliver towards the back as well, joining the manager and Eric on the ground with Charlie's shotgun pointed at them.

"Nobody fucking move or I will fucking shoot!" Charlie instilled fear inside them once more.

It wasn't like the movies with stacks of duffle bags but instead, it was different individually marked containers that had envelopes inside of them, similar to the one that the manager had in his hands. Donte started gathering them up and throwing them into the back of their car until the truck was empty.

"We're good?" Charlie asked, a bit more chatty than usual given that this was out of town and figured no one would recognize his voice.

"Yeah," Donte replied as he hopped in behind the driver seat and pulled up besides Charlie who kept his gun fixated on them as he got in.

"See you later, bitches!"



The plan had worked to perfection, well most of it. There was a part still missing which is why they found themselves waiting for Eric and Oliver to be done with their string of interviews with both the police and their bosses. It was a decent score, a bit over two hundred grand, most of which was supposed to be given to Eric to pay out to the people that had put this together. Bruce had found it a bit insulting that they were entrusting Eric, an essential nobody, to do this task as opposed to his guys, even if they were out of towners. It didn't take much to insult Bruce but this, he had a point. Although, he was about to prove their lack of trust to be well warranted.

"I'll do it," Charlie said out of nowhere as they were once again back in their rented cars.

"What?"

"Don't worry about it," Charlie had noticed the stress on Donte's face since they had dumped off the stolen car, "I'm not saying you can't do it or nothing but I can do it, you know."

"It's fine," Donte cleared his throat.



The last few jolts of Eric's body were seared into Donte's memory. He had taken up Charlie on his offer, allowing him to be the one that asked to use the bathroom once they were in Eric's apartment, counting up the money. Charlie snuck up behind him, wrapped his arm around his throat and squeezed as hard as he could for as long as he could. He fought at first but once Donte came over to hold him down, it turned into just twitches and fidgets before those last few jolts left his body limp.

Donte initially thought that was the hard part but would be corrected as they then had to carry his body down two flight of stairs, careful not to be seen by watchful eyes. They had tried to convince Eric to meet them somewhere else to do the count but once Eric insisted, they didn't want to press him too hard and potentially tip him off that things were askew. It was late enough that the ordeal wasn't as challenging as Donte thought it was going to be but they weren't done once they stuffed him inside of his own trunk.

They packed him a suitcase, apropos to someone that was on the run with money that was ill gotten. With his car loaded, Charlie got in and drove away with Donte following him. It was the first real alone time neither of them had gotten in a few days which allowed the mind to wander and think.

He wondered if his dad had done similar jobs before. From his understanding of how things worked, one didn't get the position his dad once held -- capo -- without having cross certain lines. Ironically, his father's other decisions, particularly who he chose to reproduce with, would keep Donte from ever achieving that rank, no matter how many times he would go on to cross that line.

For Charlie, this was a welcomed reintroduction to his line of work. Fabio fancied himself a businessman, denouncing anti-gambling laws as archaic and therefore his numbers game wasn't criminal in essence. He conveniently left out that Caesars Palace didn't come knocking on your door with a baseball bat if a player failed to pay his debt. Charlie was the one holding the bat or providing security during the various card games that Fabio would organize around town. It was decent work, safe work, not the type of work that Charlie signed up for the first time he picked up a gun at the tender age of thirteen.

They drove out to the Catskill Park, crossing state lines which Donte wasn't comfortable doing but he wasn't the one with a body in his trunk and Charlie was the one leading this. In most circumstances where it was Donte's virgin voyage, he'd be inquisitive beforehand, asking questions, figuring out why they were doing certain things. For this one, he was more than happy to shut up, drive and then dig.

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Soapy
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The Moolie of Port Town.

Post by Soapy » 01 Dec 2021, 18:35

The sight of money on the table was a welcomed one as one of Joey's workers counted up the money and started dividing it into different stacks. The three men continued to hover, smoking a cigar but keeping their eyes on the literal prize.

"I thought it'd be more," Fabio remarked, taking a gander out the window which oversaw the waterfront and the bridge that separated the two parts of town.

"Sixty large ain't bad for a day's work," Joey defended the take, "Besides, you didn't lift a finger."

"Neither did any of us," Fabio was quick to remind them that he wasn't the only one that wasn't getting his hands dirty these days. While based in truths, it was the kind of remark he wouldn't have felt comfortable making in front of Joey just a few years ago.

"Here's your cut," Bruce pushed one of the divided stack towards Fabio, "It could have been more, you know, I think those pricks probably took some out of our end too."

"The balls on them," Joey shook his head, "The other one, the one that stuck around, he's saying he didn't know anything about it. You believe that?"

"According to my guys," Bruce lied through his teeth, "That one, he was a little scared, I don't think he has it in him to walk away with 140 large but the other one, Eric? Yeah, they said he was giving weird vibes, kept changing meet times and when the job was going to go down. They would have called, you know, but we had told them no communication."

"Fuck it," Joey appeared to have bought the story of Eric going rogue, running off with the money for the heist that he was supposed to give to their friends up north which had arranged the whole thing. Bruce wasn't sure if they also bought it but it didn't matter because he answered to Joey and if Joey was with him, so was Little Al and ultimately, that's who mattered in this equation.

"I'm just messing with you," Fabio spoke up, "I'm not an ungrateful fuck, I appreciate this. I'll have one of my guys pick it up later."

"Send Charlie my best. The kid does good work," Bruce chimed in, hoping his message got across.

"I will," Fabio hugged him and then Joey, "I'm glad all of this is behind us, there's good business to be made here."

Fabio exited, leaving just Joey, one of his guys and Bruce in the room. Joey motioned to the younger gentleman to get out as well and he did, leaving just them and the money in his office.

"I thought it would be a bigger score too," Bruce admitted once it was just them two.

"Don't worry about it," Joey grabbed his end of the take, which amounted to just a tad bit over nine grand, "Maybe I'll go down to AC, make it up there and have some fun doing it."

"I might join you," Bruce smiled.

His 'end' of the heist was twenty-four thousand dollars after paying tribute to Fabio and the tax to Joey. He'd normally give about five grand each from his take to Charlie and Donte, who ironically would have made the least out of everyone. Instead, he was going to give them the whole twenty-four, netting for himself the bulk of the heist that everyone else thought Eric took off with.

His plan had worked and it was paying off.



The music was blaring and the drinks were pouring as Charlie kept ordering bottle after bottle, seemingly on a mission to spend all of his hard earned money in one night. Donte didn't mind as their rapid spending had gotten them their own section, although at one point, it was filled with strange women that had flocked over once Charlie started giving out drinks to anyone with a low cut skirt and a revealing top. It has started out to clear out, however, per Charlie's instruction once he zeroed in on the few women that he actually wanted to spend the night with.

"I love it when you call me Big Poppa!" Charlie screamed at the top of his lungs, standing on top of a couch.

"Your friend is crazy," a blonde girl named Tess told Donte over the loud music.

She had a killer body that was on full display in her skin-tight dress, leaving nothing to the imagination. While most of the women had been focused on Charlie -- and with good reason with his loud and brash personality in addition to his rough but good looks -- Tess had cozied up next to Donte all night, mostly sharing comments to each other as they people watched.

"He doesn't get let out of his cage a lot," Donte joked, poking fun at him.

"I can tell," she pointed as he finished off another bottle, tapping one of the security guards that stood next to their section.

"Another one!" he yelled into his ear, loud enough for Donte and Tess, who were a few feet away from Charlie, to hear him over the music, "Make it two actually!"

Donte had been doing the math in his head and they were rapidly approaching the limit he had set for the night. He hadn't planned to spend any of the money they had just received earned but when Charlie invited him for a night of celebration out into the city, he couldn't turn it down. The alternative was another lonely night in his aunt's apartment, replaying how they had exactly earned this money in his head. Besides, Charlie wasn't going to take no for an answer, not on a night where his wife agreed to watch their kid by her lonesome.

"I haven't seen you before," Charlie told the girl that brought them their newest set of bottles, a bucket of ice and some clean champagne flutes, "Where you been hiding all night?"

She ignored the dirty looks that the other girls gave her, "Maybe I have a forgettable face, can I get you anything else?"

"Take a seat," Charlie invited her which raised an eyebrow on the security guard's face.

"I can't," she forced a smile before pointing to the towering man standing next to her, "They don't allow us to do that. Besides, looks like you have a full crowd."

"I'll kick them out for you," Charlie continued, getting closer to her which caused the security guard to take a step forward, "You move another inch and we're going to have a problem, buddy. I'm just talking to her, relax, have a drink."

Tess was now dancing on Donte, practically giving him a lap dance but he noticed Charlie talking to the security guard in a manner he hadn't seen all night. Charlie was a fun guy to be around but Donte had seen first hand how quickly that switch could be flipped.

"I'm sorry," Donte physically moved Tess away from him as he hurried over to Charlie, "We're good here?"

"Donte?"

She was almost unrecognizable with the makeup and the outfit she had on, something Donte never would have guessed she'd wear but her voice and eyes gave it away. A smile took over both of their faces as they hugged, "Holy shit! Jamie! What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Nigga, I work here! I should be asking you that," she laughed as both the security guard and Charlie were now awkwardly looking on, still a bit flustered from their previous encounter.

"No shit," Donte responded, "I thought you were working at, umm, that place."

"I still work at the dental office," she clarified, "But this the city baby, everybody got at least two jobs."

"I can see that," Donte eyed her up before he could feel Charlie's presence behind him, "This is my boy, Charlie."

"We've met," she smiled at him, causing Charlie of all people to blush a little bit, "Greg, it's okay. These are my friends, at least I thought they were, didn't even introduce me!"

"You're right," Donte held his hands up against his chest as a form of an apology, "Charlie, this is Jamie, we go ways back, diaper days."

"Any friend of Donte is a friend of mine," Charlie regained his moxie.

"You're going to need one y'all keep drinking at this rate," she looked at the empty bottles that were on the table, "And here I was thinking you guys were a couple of dickheads having a pissing contest with my brother."

"Miles? He's here?" Donte perked up.

"Yeah," she pointed at a section that was across the dance floor and closer to the bar, "He's in here all the time, you'd think he'd be the one that moved here."

"Bernard around?" Donte followed up, relieved when she shook her head.

"Are you going to party with us now?" Charlie changed the subject, "Now that we're all friends."

"I still can't," she playfully placed her on Charlie's chest, "I have to go back to work anyway. Maybe another time when you guys are in the city."

They exchanged goodbyes as Donte continued to linger around on the edge of their section, trying to make out the faces that were in Miles' section. They were peas in a pod the three of them as kids with Miles only a few years older than his sister. Donte and Jamie briefly dated in middle school, if you could call it that, which made things a bit awkward and helped widen their relationship but nevertheless, they were still friendly to each other. Miles even fronted Donte a package not too long after that but once Donte decided that life wasn't for him, their paths rarely crossed.

"I'll be back," Donte looked back at Charlie who was too occupied with the women -- including Tess -- around him to pay any attention to Donte. He got past the velvet ropes and navigated his way through what was a crowded dance floor. He met eyes with Jamie once more as he passed the bar with her giving him what looked like an approving nod as he approached the section.

"I don't think so," said a large man who put his large paws in front of Donte's chest, "Bitches and invite only."

He didn't look like the rest of the security guard that worked for the club nor did he act like it ether, taking a swig from a Styrofoam cup in between his sentences.

"I know Miles," Donte was drowned out by the music and the man paid him no mind, just nodding his head to the tune of the music that was playing, "Miles, me and him go back. Ask him, it's Donte."

"You still here?" the man asked Donte, tilting his head to the side in an obnoxious fashion, "Step off."

"Tell Miles it's Donte."

"Step off nigga!" he barked this time, loud enough for the people that were dancing behind Donte to stop what they were doing and scurry away from the area.

Donte shook his head in defeat, turning around to begin the long trek back to his own section before he heard his name from a familiar voice.

"Donte! Come up here!" Miles shouted from the elevated platform, "Big Tig, let him in."

Big Tig did as he was told, stepping aside and opening the velvet and gold ropes which led to a small staircase that Donte followed onto the platform where he shared a dap with Miles.

"My guy," Donte greeted him before turning around to see that it was Jaimie, from behind the bar, that had flagged her brother down to draw his attention. Donte waved at Jamie who waived back before returning to her duties, serving drinks to the patrons.

"I don't see you around no more," Miles invited him to an even more secluded area of the section where they could sit down with plenty of space around them.

"I've just been around," Donte replied, "How about you, things good on your side?"

"Life is good," Miles smiled, "Obviously with Martin and everything, that's fucked up but you know, charge it to the game."

"Still haven't heard from him? Figured he was just laying low after what happened," Donte inquired.

"A couple West Side niggas claiming credit for blowing him down," Miles sucked his teeth, "Trying to get credit for the shit because Martin is like B's step-daddy nephew or some shit, I don't know."

"He's going to step to them?"

"Over Martin? Fuck no," Miles laughed, "I mean, rest in peace to the man if that is the case..."

"Indeed."

"But nah," Miles continued, "Things is good, right now, real good. We don't got no major beef with nobody, I mean, the regular nigga shit but nothing crazy. We not about to start a fucking war over Martin. All due respect, I know that was your boy."

"He was," Donte did have affection for Martin but his high wire act was going to get him in trouble eventually so no tears were shed.

"I heard you be fucking with the other side of your family now," Miles sipped on his bourbon, "You still Donte or they give you another name like 'Skinny D' or 'Donte Apricots'?"

"I'm still Donte," he laughed it off, "You know, just here and there, keeping busy."

"Getting paid," Miles flicked the gold necklace that Donte was wearing. It wasn't gaudy or anything but not something he'd have been able to afford previously when Miles saw him regularly doing odd jobs in the neighborhood, "If I knew you was going to get in with them, I could have used your help to drive the price down."

Even in a crowded and loud club, Donte wasn't comfortable speaking family business so he didn't say anything to Mile's comment although internally he was intrigued, enough that it showed on his face and led Miles to continue speaking.

"Yeah, this I-talian motherfucker charging a titty and a half these days. Price keeps going up and business still booming so we don't complain but shit, I wouldn't mind a family discount."

"I wouldn't be able to help you there," Donte said sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders.

"Mike," Miles snapped his finger to try to remember his full name, "Junio, Juliano, Juyano, some shit. He was offering us a good price at first but lately, I don't know, Bernard likes him so..."

"It was good catching up with you man," Donte interjected as he stood up, "I got to get up out of here, driving back home tonight. It was nice seeing you, your sister, glad you guys are doing good. We gotta have dinner or something, you know?"

"For sure," Miles got up as well, a bit puzzled by the abrupt end to the conversation, "Don't be a stranger anymore, D."

Topic author
Soapy
Posts: 4150
Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 23:42

The Moolie of Port Town.

Post by Soapy » 02 Dec 2021, 23:34

The summer heat left the warehouse almost inhabitable, partly due to Bruce turning the air only for a few hours at a time as a cost saving measure while the men suffered inside. He pressed his glass of water up against his temple, trying to cool himself down as a fan blew into his back.

Donte savored every minute he spent inside that office, breaking down the packaging of their latest score. It was a much needed reprieve after being out in the sun all day, hauling giant boxes to and from.

"What are you doing? The office is going to stink for days," Bruce complained before seeing the contents, "Hold on, how much you got?"

"It's a lot of boxes, boss. In this heat, they're going to go bad which is why I hurried over here, I got nowhere to put them."

"I don't got nowhere either," Bruce came from behind his desk to stand in front of the mountain of boxes, "Where the fuck you think I'm going to put it?"

"You don't got like one of those industrial freezers or something?" Donte scratched his brow.

"This is a warehouse kid," Bruce scoffed, "Where the fuck do you think you are? Charlie already took some of it?"

"Yeah, I saved a lot of the lobster for you but Fabio's getting a good taste."

This was a good problem to have but a problem nonetheless. With the lid off of their operation, Bruce no longer had cause for discretion and could lean on other members of the family for good tips on routes and he didn't have to worry about stepping on anyone's toes by accident. If it had wheels and carried good shit, Charlie and Donte were there waiting.

"Did Joey's guy show up?"

Donte nodded.

"What about the old timers, you split them off already?"

"Everybody got their taste," Donte was amused that Bruce, of all people, was calling someone else 'old timers'.

"You don't like seafood?"

"I eat shrimp every now and then," he answered.

"Take a box or two," Bruce instructed him, "Don't worry, it ain't coming out your pay. Your uncle, you break anything off for him yet?"

"Bobby? No, why?"

"Give him some good shit," Bruce replied, "Not the tilapia and shit we gave the old fucks."

Donte sighed as his day had just been extended, "Alright, I'll bring the car back when I'm done."

"I need it," Bruce rebutted, "I'm heading out in a couple, fucking melting in here."

"I'll drive you," Donte suggested, "I can't go around carrying boxes of stolen shit with me on a bus."

"You still taking the bus? You don't got a car yet? You didn't have a car when I met you and you still don't got one?"

"I don't got a job," Donte answered.

"Stop busting my balls here," Bruce replied, "I just gave you a score, you ungrateful fuck. Even added the shrimp, no cost to you!"

"On paper," Donte corrected himself, "I don't work anywhere, legally, so fuck am I doing with a car, you know?"

"You don't work? What the fuck do you do when you're not working for me?"

"When the fuck would that be?"

Donte was getting ready to apologize for that snarky remark when Bruce erupted into rare laughter, the kind that came from your gut. He kept laughing as he went back to his desk, pulling out a manila folder from one of his cabinets.

"We'll get you a job here," Bruce took out a form from the folder, "Don't worry, you don't got to show up or anything. I mean, show up to do our work but you gotta have a car. You're an earner, kid, it don't look good if my top earner is driving a bus, makes me look like a tight fuck."

"Thanks," Donte took a seat and started filling it out. It was his first real job yet it still wasn't but it would do for now, enough for him to actually start living up to his means. He had stashed most of the money he had earned, spending just here and there to help out his aunt at home who thought he was still just shoving snow in the winter and doing manual labor in the summer here and there.

"Don't fuck me on this," Bruce changed his tone, "You've never been pinched, right? Well, don't start now. I don't hire felons and that applies to you, too. This is a clean operation, right here, it's completely legal. I wasn't handed this, didn't cut no corners. I worked and worked until I was foreman and then I owned this shit, you hear me?"

Bruce was ranting to no one in particular, although as usual, Donte ended up being his audience. He was due for one of his patented rants, arguing for something no one in the room was arguing against.

"I appreciate this," Donte tried to change the tenor of the room, handing him the completed forms, "I still got to take this to Bobby? I don't even know if he wants this."

"You kidding? Him and Johnny would throw down at that old seafood boil place," Bruce reminisced, "Shame that place closed down, one of the few places in that part of town that served quality food. It was never for me, getting your hands all dirty and stuff but the food was good. You know, say what you want about your father but he knew how to have a good time."

They were nearing on two years working together and this was the first time Bruce had ever mentioned Donte's father on his own. Even when he was around the guys that used to run with his father, usually making a drop or when driving Bruce to a meet or something, Donte kept his mouth shut. From his understanding, his father left Earth with very few friends and with good reason.

"You work here right?" Bruce stuffed the form back inside the cabinet and tossed him a key, "Use the work truck, company business."



"Mom! Dad!"

"What?!" yelled a voice from inside the house that Donte recognized but wouldn't describe as familiar, not these days anyway.

"Donte is here," the girl never broke eye contact with Donte as she still hadn't opened the door completely.

"Go on," Bobby swung the door open, sending her on her way. Donte forced a smile towards Andrea, Bobby's youngest, but she simply walked away.

"Hey, Bruce told me to drop these off," Donte handed over a box of frozen tilapia.

"Perfect," Bobby smiled as he grabbed the box. Donte turned around to walk back towards his car but Bobby called for him.

"Where are you going? You don't even say hello or nothing? We're about to have dinner, come eat."

Donte slowly walked into the house, the same house he sat through many awkward dinners for and figured another couldn't hurt. Dominique stepped out the kitchen and exchanged a harsh look with Donte before pulling her husband to the side.

"I didn't cook enough food for another mouth," Dominique said just loud enough to make sure that Donte could overhear them.

"Nonsense," Bobby scoffed as he grabbed another plate from the kitchen and placed it on the table, "All the kids do is nibble anyway, it'll be fine. Junior and Leo! Get your ass downstairs!"

Donte sort of lingered around the table as the two boys came running down the stairs. They each looked at Donte then at their mom before they both shook Donte's hand.

"Have a seat," Bobby instructed Donte as he sheepishly sat as far away from Dominique as possible and still be on the table, "I haven't seen you around lately, you doing good?"

"I can't complain," Donte replied, "Thanks for inviting me to dinner, looks good."

"How's your aunt doing?" Bobby inquired, "She ain't been dropping off the goodies like she used to for the boys at the site."

"The food is going to get cold," Dominique quickly chimed in, shooting Bobby a dirty look, "You said you were hungry, let's eat."

"Go ahead and pray then," Bobby shot back, "Don't let me stop you."

They shared a quick prayer, led by Dominique, before they started digging into their meals. The conversations were short and brief as Bobby almost interrogated his children about what was going on in their lives, updates on friend, any issues they were having. It would eventually reach Donte who did his best to entertain his uncle's line of inquiry without saying much. Donte couldn't help but feel bad about his desperate attempt to build a close bond with his children. Or maybe Donte was the cause of this tension.

"So Donte," Bobby put his fork down, "How's Bruce treating you? I see you pulled up in his truck."

"It's been great," Donte replied, drawing a roll of the eyes from Dominique, "You know what? I'm not feeling well, I think I'm going to take off."

"You okay?" Bobby asked as he raised an eyebrow.

"Don't worry about it," Donte assured him as he got up, "Just hope you enjoy the seafood, Bruce sent his best."

Bobby nodded.

"The chicken might have just been a bit under cook," Donte said as he tried his best to withhold his smirk as he walked back from the kitchen after cleaning his plate.

Topic author
Soapy
Posts: 4150
Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 23:42

The Moolie of Port Town.

Post by Soapy » 10 Jan 2022, 00:54

Yo?

Topic author
Soapy
Posts: 4150
Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 23:42

The Moolie of Port Town.

Post by Soapy » 11 Jan 2022, 02:53

It was a nice summer day and the community pool empty but littered with bodies around it. Despite schools being closed for the season, it was void of screaming children. Instead, the pool was decorated with tanned women that were sunbathing with not a cesarean scar in sight.

This was a nice apartment complex -- not the ones that Donte had spent his childhood in, moving from one to another as the rent would inevitably go up -- and yet it wasn't even the nicest one that Donte had seen that day.

His Aunt Jenny had done her best with the cards that were dealt to her, specifically a four-year old boy that wasn't even hers when she was just twenty-five herself. She had gone out of her way, passing on many fun nights to avoid this exact situation. Donte felt a bit of guilt as he continued on the guided tour knowing that this soon would be his home while she would still be in that apartment.

"I can try to get you in on the 17th," the office manager had been brought in when it was time to sign the papers. She wasn't as easy on the eyes as the other woman that had showed him around but her Rubenesque figure had some appeal, "They're supposed to turn the keys in on the 14th so we usually can get it done and turned around in time, I know you wanted something quick."

"Yeah," Donte continued to look around the office, trying to see if he'd see anyone else of his shade around.

He had passed on the other nicer apartments in order to not arise suspicion nor Bruce's ire since his job at the warehouse, on paper, only warranted a slight upgrade. He had doubts that he was on anyone's radar for it to make a difference but the scolding from Bruce would come nonetheless. This apartment was nice enough but not too nice while also giving him a change of scenery as it was further south and on the edge of Port Town, almost reaching into Clear Bay where the while folks that wanted to avoid both the blacks and the Italians hid at.

Maybe Donte was running away from both as well.

"I wish everyone was as easy as you are," Brooke, the office manager, flashed a smile as Donte signed the documents in front of him. He had been there for barely an hour and already had toured the premises, picked an apartment and paid the deposit.

He wasn't sure why he was in such a hurry but he was and glad to get it over with, "Don't make it hard if it don't got to be."

"I love that," she continued to smile as they shook hands, lingering the handshake just long enough to catch Donte's attention, "Sam had said you were new to town?"

"Yeah," Donte replied, "Know any good places I should check out?"

"Obviously The Bay has a lot to offer," she suggested, "Depends what you're into."

"I'm into nice things," Donte let out a small chuckle, "I've liked what it's had to offer so far."

Before their back and forth could continue, Donte felt a presence behind him and turned around to see a familiar yet out of place face.

"I knew that voice was familiar," Michael brought him in for a surprise hug, "Fuck are you doing here?"

"Hey Mike," Donte finally managed to get the words out of his mouth.

"Good morning Mr. Juliano," Brooke greeted him, "Do I have you to thank for our newest tenant?"

"Tenant? This guy?" Michael was surprised, as was Donte to find him here. He couldn't escape it after all.

"Yeah," Brooke looked down at his application paper, his last name making more sense now, "He snatched up one of our last open slots for this month."

"He works for my uncle, with my uncle. Good guy, this guy. You got him set up right?"

"Always," Brooke forced a smile, "I think we're all wrapped up, here. It was a pleasure meeting you today, sir, and I think you'll find you made the right decision. The keys will be ready for you on the 17th and if they're not, we'll be sure to give you a call beforehand."

Donte shook her hand, a bit taken aback by her sudden change in demeanor but he had bigger fish to fry as Michael was now escorting him out of the office.

"This is smart," Michael told Donte, "Getting a place out here, out from the city and all that shit. You don't need that shit. I should have done that a long time ago, trust me."

"You live here too?" Donte asked him, a bit regretful once the words left his mouth as he only knew Michael in passing. He was Bruce's nephew but they very rarely did business together, at least not in front of Donte.

"I thin you'll like it," Michael side stepped the question, "It makes sense, moving here, especially after that job."

Donte simply nodded.

"I heard you guys made a killing with that score," Michael smiled.

Donte was quick to notice Michael's choice of words and stole a page from his coy playbook, continuing to just nod.

"My uncle can be a bit of prick at times," Michael continues, "I love the guy but he can be. The work you're doing with him, it's not going unnoticed, I hope you know that. I appreciate you helping out the old man, he needs it."

"I just do what I'm told," Donte finally broke his silence.

"That's good," Michael patted him on the back, "You'll like this place, a lot of cute white girls running around, if you're into that."



Charlie's eye pierced the bathroom mirror that was in front of him as he splashed some more water against his face. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't wash the night away with it residing on his face beneath his eyes. The uppers had done their job throughout the night and even into the early morning but now they were wearing off and Charlie was left to deal with the aftermath.

He walked out of the store bathroom, grabbing a water bottle on his way out, not bothering to pay for it as he walked right past the owner who didn't even bat an eye. The sound of his car door closing caused the throbbing pain in his head to return but sitting down for the next few minutes helped appease it. He put his car into drive as he took a swig of his water bottle before making the required rights and lefts to end up to where his life really was, not what he pretended it was last night.

He slowly walked up the steps, bracing himself for what he figured would either be another argument if he couldn't convince her he was out working last night or another few days of being handed the silent treatment, his favorite kind.

He could only wish he was that lucky as he opened the door and found her passed out on the couch, the baby's crib not too far from her. He tried to close the door without waking her but any movement in the apartment made a noise and she started to get up.

"Sorry," Charlie muttered as he tried to schlep his way to the bedroom, "Didn't mean to wake you up, got held up last night."

"Yeah?" she peered into the crib, "Everything all right?"

"Some collections," Charlie didn't even bother to think of an excuse before hand, "We had a couple after so I crashed at Denny's house?"

"Denny?"

"Yeah," Charlie scratched his head as she was now looking at him, revealing to him that her eyes were red and lips dry, "He works with..."

"It doesn't matter," she cut him off, causing him to sigh as he got ready for the argument, "Look..."

"Can this wait? I didn't get much sleep las...."

"We're having another one!" she couldn't hold it in anymore, taking the device out of her pocket.

"What?"



"And then you got the pharmacy, the hardware store and the sporting goods store, you got it?"

"Yeah," Donte replied. He had chauffeured Bruce plenty of times to make those pickups and now they were his to make.

"Don't let Eric sell you a sob story either," Bruce warned him, "He's good for that, especially when he does have the money. He'll keep bringing up his problems even when he's paying up so that when he doesn't, he can lean on you to remind you of his loyalty, how he's a good shit. Now, none of the other guys should cause any trouble, they know the deal. The Chinese bitch at the hardware store might bitch and moan, all that ching ching chong shit but it don't mean anything and don't make it mean anything, okay?"

Donte had no clue what that meant but nodded in agreement, as was often the case with Bruce's instructions.

"Before you get out of here, did you remember to change your address in your paperwork?"

"Yeah," Donte handed Bruce an envelope, his take from the latest score that him and Charlie had pulled off. It wasn't much but Donte had tried to make it a habit to not let too much time to by without wetting Bruce's beak.

"The suits?"

"It never came into play," Donte explained, "This was Charlie's guy, from East Bay. It was those little battery powered fans, the ones you see at the parks and shit?"

"The little fans?"

"Yeah," Donte shrugged, "We had a buyer before we even finished loading up, guess they're in need during the summer."

"Makes sense," Bruce nodded.

"You know who I ran into the other day?" Donte had it on his mind throughout the encounter and didn't want to spend the day with it rattling around in his brain unanswered.

"How the fuck would I know?"

"Michael, when I was looking at the apartments."

"Out by The Bay?"

"Yeah," Donte confirmed, "I don't know if he's got business out there or whatever but yeah, he was asking about the score."

"Which score?"

"The out of town one," Donte explained, "The one with our friends."

"What about it?"

"That's the thing," Donte treaded lightly, "I don't know, I wasn't sure if you told him."

"Told him what? That? Are you fucking stupid?

"I just...he was asking, you know, like he knew, little comments."

"Like what?"

"I don't know, just asking. Why would he ask me about it?"

"What exactly did he say?"

"He said we made a serious killing of a score," Donte told him, "Something like that, I don't know."

"Killing of a score?"

"Exactly," Donte emphasized, "Who says that? I don't know, maybe it's nothing."

"No, no, it's okay. I appreciate you bringing this to me. You know, people are going to talk, it's nothing. Whenever a score ends up like that, people talk and try to figure shit out, it's nothing."

"You're right," Donte nodded along.
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