The Moolie of Port Town.
The Moolie of Port Town.
"I'm just saying, I've seen you do it."
"No, you haven't."
"Listen," the large fellow they appropriately called Big Mike sighed, "It's your car so it don't matter anyway but I have."
"When?"
"Last time I saw you sucking a dick in the backseat. How the fuck am I supposed to remember?"
"No, for real, when? What was I eating? Was it cold or hot outside? Was the car parked? When, cocksucker, when?" Ronnie's brow furrowed.
"When we used to get cold cuts for the Sunday games," he responded, "From Kearny's."
"That doesn't count," Ronnie waved him off, "I'd nibble on a few slices of meat, that's not really eating."
"And a bagel is?"
"Absolutely, the floor would be filled with crumbs and you'd get cream cheese on the seats, just disgusting. I've seen you eat."
"You're only saying that because of my size," Big Mike remarked, "Why do people think all fat guys eat sloppy? Clearly, we know how to get it into our mouths."
"So does your mother."
Big Mike bursted into laughter, soon joined by Ronnie as they finished up the rest of the car ride by continuing to bust each other's balls until they got to their destination. As usual, Ronnie handed Big Mike his weapon which he meticulously checked and made sure it was ready to go before doing the same with his gun as well. If everything went according to plan, they wouldn't have to use it but in this life of theirs, things seldom did.
"What are we talking here?" Big Mike asked, wanting gauge how aggressively he was about to kick the door in.
"Seven or eight," Ronnie responded with the information he had gleaned from his father, "I heard he got into it with the Pollacks too, ended up losing his car which is how he ended up at our game."
"We can't let those fucks in anymore," Big Mike instructed Ronnie, "There's got to be like some credit score shit but with gamblers."
"That's a million dollar idea," Ronnie scoffed as they went up the apartment stairs, "I think it's right here."
Big Mike took the lead, taking up almost the entire hallway before reaching the apartment door they were looking for. He pressed his ears against the door and could hear faint background noise of what sounded like a television set. He tried to pick out any voices but after another few seconds of listening in, he decided to knock.
"Who is it?" yelled a voice from inside.
Their response was for Big Mike to push his size 13 feet against the door near the handle which busted the door wide open. He had plenty of practice and did it with ease before pulling his holstered gun out and pushing it into the face of the apartment occupant.
Ronnie always thought it was a bit over the top but it was Big Mike's style and it was undefeated. He scurried around the apartment, making sure no one else was in there.
"What the fuck man? Come on, not for this shit. I told your old man I was good for it!"
"You're not good for shit," Ronnie slapped him across the face and then pushed him down towards the floor. Big Mike closed the door behind them and began turning the place upside down, looking for any valuables.
"I can make the five grand in a few hours," the man pleaded, "I've just been stacking up my money so I can go get it for you guys."
"First of all, you owe us eight. More importantly, you can't win at gambling, you stupid fuck. If you could," he slapped him once more, "We wouldn't be fucking here, now, would we?"
"He doesn't have shit," Big Mike said angrily, "How are you this fucking poor?"
"Spot me a grand....no, five-hundred, that's it. I'll be back here in a few hours, I'll have your money and we can all win. I'm done with the cards, man, I swear. I haven't touched it since I left your game!"
"Because you have no money!" Ronnie screamed into his face before recomposing himself and turning towards Big Mike, "I mean, what are we doing here?"
"We've been looking to make an example out of someone," Big Mike shrugged, "Nobody's going to miss this stupid bitch anyway."
"Come on man! Over this?! That ain't right!"
"Alright, alright, alright. Calm down, calm down, come on, get up. You can get up, it's okay. It's fine," Ronnie reassured him.
As soon as he got to his feet, Big Mike grabbed him and threw him against the wall where he promptly fell to the floor. He gingerly tried to get up only to have Big Mike's foot -- the same one that previously knocked his door down with ease -- slam him in his chest. He fell back down and laid on the floor couching.
"Wait, wait!"
"Here or somewhere else?" Big Mike asked Ronnie, "It's still light outside so we're going to have wait here either way."
"Come on! Come on! Just stop! Give me a minute!"
"I can't listen to him anymore," Ronnie gave the order before turning his back and looking for a remote, "Motherfucker probably doesn't even have cable."
"I can't get the money but I can get you drugs! A whole load of it!"
"We already looked," Ronnie didn't bother to look back at him as he continued to peruse the apartment looking for some form of entertainment while Big Mike got ready to make the kill, "You don't have shit in here."
"Not in here, at the docks! I work at the docks, remember? There's shit moving through there almost every week, I can load it off to you guys, for free!"
"It wouldn't be for free," he had piqued Ronnie's interest, "You'd be paying something off and what the fuck do you know about this?"
"We barely get any hours because of those desert niggers at the docks," he told them, "They practically run the place and don't even hide their shit anymore. They try to give all of their guys the shifts but I've seen it, trucks just disappearing with trailers. Everybody at the docks know it."
"Hold up," Ronnie told Big Mike, "This prick might be worth something after all."
"No, you haven't."
"Listen," the large fellow they appropriately called Big Mike sighed, "It's your car so it don't matter anyway but I have."
"When?"
"Last time I saw you sucking a dick in the backseat. How the fuck am I supposed to remember?"
"No, for real, when? What was I eating? Was it cold or hot outside? Was the car parked? When, cocksucker, when?" Ronnie's brow furrowed.
"When we used to get cold cuts for the Sunday games," he responded, "From Kearny's."
"That doesn't count," Ronnie waved him off, "I'd nibble on a few slices of meat, that's not really eating."
"And a bagel is?"
"Absolutely, the floor would be filled with crumbs and you'd get cream cheese on the seats, just disgusting. I've seen you eat."
"You're only saying that because of my size," Big Mike remarked, "Why do people think all fat guys eat sloppy? Clearly, we know how to get it into our mouths."
"So does your mother."
Big Mike bursted into laughter, soon joined by Ronnie as they finished up the rest of the car ride by continuing to bust each other's balls until they got to their destination. As usual, Ronnie handed Big Mike his weapon which he meticulously checked and made sure it was ready to go before doing the same with his gun as well. If everything went according to plan, they wouldn't have to use it but in this life of theirs, things seldom did.
"What are we talking here?" Big Mike asked, wanting gauge how aggressively he was about to kick the door in.
"Seven or eight," Ronnie responded with the information he had gleaned from his father, "I heard he got into it with the Pollacks too, ended up losing his car which is how he ended up at our game."
"We can't let those fucks in anymore," Big Mike instructed Ronnie, "There's got to be like some credit score shit but with gamblers."
"That's a million dollar idea," Ronnie scoffed as they went up the apartment stairs, "I think it's right here."
Big Mike took the lead, taking up almost the entire hallway before reaching the apartment door they were looking for. He pressed his ears against the door and could hear faint background noise of what sounded like a television set. He tried to pick out any voices but after another few seconds of listening in, he decided to knock.
"Who is it?" yelled a voice from inside.
Their response was for Big Mike to push his size 13 feet against the door near the handle which busted the door wide open. He had plenty of practice and did it with ease before pulling his holstered gun out and pushing it into the face of the apartment occupant.
Ronnie always thought it was a bit over the top but it was Big Mike's style and it was undefeated. He scurried around the apartment, making sure no one else was in there.
"What the fuck man? Come on, not for this shit. I told your old man I was good for it!"
"You're not good for shit," Ronnie slapped him across the face and then pushed him down towards the floor. Big Mike closed the door behind them and began turning the place upside down, looking for any valuables.
"I can make the five grand in a few hours," the man pleaded, "I've just been stacking up my money so I can go get it for you guys."
"First of all, you owe us eight. More importantly, you can't win at gambling, you stupid fuck. If you could," he slapped him once more, "We wouldn't be fucking here, now, would we?"
"He doesn't have shit," Big Mike said angrily, "How are you this fucking poor?"
"Spot me a grand....no, five-hundred, that's it. I'll be back here in a few hours, I'll have your money and we can all win. I'm done with the cards, man, I swear. I haven't touched it since I left your game!"
"Because you have no money!" Ronnie screamed into his face before recomposing himself and turning towards Big Mike, "I mean, what are we doing here?"
"We've been looking to make an example out of someone," Big Mike shrugged, "Nobody's going to miss this stupid bitch anyway."
"Come on man! Over this?! That ain't right!"
"Alright, alright, alright. Calm down, calm down, come on, get up. You can get up, it's okay. It's fine," Ronnie reassured him.
As soon as he got to his feet, Big Mike grabbed him and threw him against the wall where he promptly fell to the floor. He gingerly tried to get up only to have Big Mike's foot -- the same one that previously knocked his door down with ease -- slam him in his chest. He fell back down and laid on the floor couching.
"Wait, wait!"
"Here or somewhere else?" Big Mike asked Ronnie, "It's still light outside so we're going to have wait here either way."
"Come on! Come on! Just stop! Give me a minute!"
"I can't listen to him anymore," Ronnie gave the order before turning his back and looking for a remote, "Motherfucker probably doesn't even have cable."
"I can't get the money but I can get you drugs! A whole load of it!"
"We already looked," Ronnie didn't bother to look back at him as he continued to peruse the apartment looking for some form of entertainment while Big Mike got ready to make the kill, "You don't have shit in here."
"Not in here, at the docks! I work at the docks, remember? There's shit moving through there almost every week, I can load it off to you guys, for free!"
"It wouldn't be for free," he had piqued Ronnie's interest, "You'd be paying something off and what the fuck do you know about this?"
"We barely get any hours because of those desert niggers at the docks," he told them, "They practically run the place and don't even hide their shit anymore. They try to give all of their guys the shifts but I've seen it, trucks just disappearing with trailers. Everybody at the docks know it."
"Hold up," Ronnie told Big Mike, "This prick might be worth something after all."
The Moolie of Port Town.
"You sure you don't want anything?"
Donte shook his head, tucking his hands inside his hoodie pocket as he watched people hurry their way through the concourse for the start of the second half. Charlie was on his third trip to the concession stands, each time leaving with a beer in hand and a few snacks. Between the parking and Charlie's eating habits, Michael's gift had turned into a lengthy tab for Charlie who didn't seem to mind as he took a bite into his hot dog.
"Let's beat the traffic," he suggested before turning back around towards the stand and putting some ketchup on the Frankfurt, "Next time, ask for tickets when the Lakers are in town."
"The defending Eastern Conference champions aren't enough for you?" Donte wasn't particularly interested in the game either but he couldn't help but poke at Charlie's entitlement.
"If a girl offers you a steak and a blowjob, on the house, you still don't want that ran over steak from Malio's now, do you?"
"You're bugging," Donte laughed as they started to exit the arena, "Malio's is good eating."
"On a steak sandwich," he rebutted, "You gotta add the onions, the mayo, some cheese, anything to mask that tough ass leather. Speaking of steak and blowjob, how's it going with the Puerto Rican Pride Parade?"
"You're a dick," Donte scoffed, "I can't call it, to be honest. I mean, it's not bad but it's just...whatever."
"You fuck her in the sink like I thought you?"
"Fuck you."
"I'm just saying," Charlie finished off his fifth meal of the day and threw it in the nearby garbage bin, "You gotta spice it up, you can't be bored already. Y'all got what, a few months?"
"A couple," Donte answered.
Truth be told, boredom was what Donte was looking for and what Dania wasn't providing. Her line of work meant she worked odd hours and when she wasn't working, she would try to regale Donte with tales of her night which he had no interest in listening to. He liked having her on his arm -- and in his bed -- but it was costly transaction for his mental well being as he just couldn't handle her being on a pole.
"You know what helps?" Charlie leaned over, "Some bitches. Titties and bitches, send you home a different man."
"Is that right?"
"Come on," Charlie tapped him on the chest with the back of his hand, "We're already in the city, might as well enjoy it."
"I thought we were beating the traffic?"
"We are," Charlie smiled, "The traffic to the club."
…
The most important and common part of the "job" was sitting in a car with a half-eaten sandwich, a cold coffee and just watching. It would undo a lot of the people that joined for the quick cash grabs as it would inevitably end with handcuffs being slapped on your wrist or the chrome tip of a gun at your temple.
Ever his father's son, Ronnie enjoyed the cerebral aspect of the job, even if it meant watching the docks for hours.
"That's it right there," Jason, the same guy they had beaten to a pulp just a few days ago, told them as he pointed out a container that was being loaded onto a truck.
"How do you know?" Big Mike asked him.
"Most containers...no, every container is on queue for what, hours? It takes a while for processing, you know, updating the system, letting it know it arrived and then you need to get a truck scheduled for pickup and schedule the drop off. It takes a long time, trust me. This one, the green one, it came off the boat just an hour ago and it's already being picked up. That's the tipoff."
"You sure?" Ronnie pressed him once more.
"Trust me, you work the docks as long as I have, you pick up on certain things. They're not even trying to hide it either, you see any other trucks working this late?"
Big Mike didn't care either way. Even if it wasn't drugs, whatever was in that truck was valuable enough for somebody to ship it across an ocean and he was always game to unload merchandise for profit. That wasn't Fabio's M.O. and by extension, it wasn't their crew's M.O. either but with Ronnie onboard, he knew his ass was at least partially covered if it ever got back to their capo.
They watched as the truck left the docks with Big Mike putting the car on drive and gripping on his gun, "How do you want to play this? There's no telling where it's going so we might as well hit it now before it leaves the district. It's not a lot of foot traffic in this area anyway."
"No," Ronnie instructed him, "We'll follow it to its destination."
"If he's right," Big Mike looked at Ronnie, "It might be going to a stash house, one that's going to be armed to the fucking brim."
"We'll follow it," Ronnie insisted as he leaned back into his chair.
…
"It's crazy how we keep running into each other like this," Jamie laughed as she handed Donte his drink, ignoring the death stare that Tess was giving her.
"It was his idea," Donte responded as he tilted his head towards Charlie, "You guys showed him a good time last time we were here, he couldn't wait to be back."
"I did have a really good time," Charlie nodded in agreement.
"I think that had less to do with us and the harem he had with him. Where's the entourage?" Jamie snapped back.
"Just friends tonight," Charlie quickly answered, "You should join us, maybe you and Donte can catch up, I heard you guys were real close back in the day."
"I'm working," she forced a smile, "Besides, I'm sure you can find one of these girls to join you guys."
"What time do you get off?" Charlie asked.
"Another hour or so."
"We'll be here," Charlie smiled back, "Won't we, Donte?"
"I don't see why not," he shrugged, taking a sip of his drink.
"Your outfit is amazing," Jamie finally addressed Tess, who felt a bit left out prior to, "I'll think about it."
…
It was clear to Donte now why Charlie wasn't that worried about Tess' roommate, Carla, not being able to go out with them tonight. He had other plans and those plans included Donte's childhood friend getting nice and cozy with his partner in crime.
"I can't believe you guys left at halftime," Tess snapped Donte out of it, "I'd love to see them play."
Donte got the hint but didn't bite, "Yeah, it's not all that."
"You should come to the city more," she continued, "I feel like I only see you once every few weeks, months even."
"I don't really have business in the city like that," Donte kept it short as he was enjoying his drink and the laid-back atmosphere that was the lounge they had gone to after leaving Jamie's nightclub. The only thing nagging him was Tess' voice and how Charlie's hands would occasionally brush up on Jamie's thigh.
"You want a refill?" Donte asked Tess, not waiting for her answer before he got up and shot Charlie a look, "Let's keep the ladies hydrated, man."
Charlie joined Donte on the walk to the bar where they ordered up four more drinks as the tab for the night kept expanding. Donte kept waiting for Charlie's eyes to meet his but instead he kept looking back at the table, waving towards Jamie.
"You good, man?" Donte finally asked Charlie.
"Yeah, yeah, why?"
"You're getting awfully close there," Donte told him.
"What?"
"You and Jamie, what the fuck?"
"You stepping to me about a girl? You told me you guys were just friends."
"It ain't even like that," Donte sucked his teeth, "I'm just saying, she's not like that."
"Like what?"
"You got a wife, a pregnant wife at that and a baby at home. She's not like that."
"We're just having fun, man, it's not even like that."
"Does she know that?"
"If you're going to step to me, step to me. Otherwise, what are we talking about here?"
"Alright," Donte backed off, "Just wanted to let you know."
"And you have," Charlie caressed his face, "Now, how about you get some pussy and find some sanity? Alright? Good."
…
Under the cover of the night and Big Mike's refined tailing ability, they had tracked the truck all the way into Port Town where it was now parked outside of an unmarked warehouse. The driver stayed with the truck for a few minutes before two gentleman exited the warehouse and began unloading its contents out of the truck and carried it inside.
"If not now, when?" Big Mike once again asked Ronnie who was carefully watching all of this take place from across the street.
"You can't tell?" Ronnie replied, "This is Bruce's spot."
Donte shook his head, tucking his hands inside his hoodie pocket as he watched people hurry their way through the concourse for the start of the second half. Charlie was on his third trip to the concession stands, each time leaving with a beer in hand and a few snacks. Between the parking and Charlie's eating habits, Michael's gift had turned into a lengthy tab for Charlie who didn't seem to mind as he took a bite into his hot dog.
"Let's beat the traffic," he suggested before turning back around towards the stand and putting some ketchup on the Frankfurt, "Next time, ask for tickets when the Lakers are in town."
"The defending Eastern Conference champions aren't enough for you?" Donte wasn't particularly interested in the game either but he couldn't help but poke at Charlie's entitlement.
"If a girl offers you a steak and a blowjob, on the house, you still don't want that ran over steak from Malio's now, do you?"
"You're bugging," Donte laughed as they started to exit the arena, "Malio's is good eating."
"On a steak sandwich," he rebutted, "You gotta add the onions, the mayo, some cheese, anything to mask that tough ass leather. Speaking of steak and blowjob, how's it going with the Puerto Rican Pride Parade?"
"You're a dick," Donte scoffed, "I can't call it, to be honest. I mean, it's not bad but it's just...whatever."
"You fuck her in the sink like I thought you?"
"Fuck you."
"I'm just saying," Charlie finished off his fifth meal of the day and threw it in the nearby garbage bin, "You gotta spice it up, you can't be bored already. Y'all got what, a few months?"
"A couple," Donte answered.
Truth be told, boredom was what Donte was looking for and what Dania wasn't providing. Her line of work meant she worked odd hours and when she wasn't working, she would try to regale Donte with tales of her night which he had no interest in listening to. He liked having her on his arm -- and in his bed -- but it was costly transaction for his mental well being as he just couldn't handle her being on a pole.
"You know what helps?" Charlie leaned over, "Some bitches. Titties and bitches, send you home a different man."
"Is that right?"
"Come on," Charlie tapped him on the chest with the back of his hand, "We're already in the city, might as well enjoy it."
"I thought we were beating the traffic?"
"We are," Charlie smiled, "The traffic to the club."
…
The most important and common part of the "job" was sitting in a car with a half-eaten sandwich, a cold coffee and just watching. It would undo a lot of the people that joined for the quick cash grabs as it would inevitably end with handcuffs being slapped on your wrist or the chrome tip of a gun at your temple.
Ever his father's son, Ronnie enjoyed the cerebral aspect of the job, even if it meant watching the docks for hours.
"That's it right there," Jason, the same guy they had beaten to a pulp just a few days ago, told them as he pointed out a container that was being loaded onto a truck.
"How do you know?" Big Mike asked him.
"Most containers...no, every container is on queue for what, hours? It takes a while for processing, you know, updating the system, letting it know it arrived and then you need to get a truck scheduled for pickup and schedule the drop off. It takes a long time, trust me. This one, the green one, it came off the boat just an hour ago and it's already being picked up. That's the tipoff."
"You sure?" Ronnie pressed him once more.
"Trust me, you work the docks as long as I have, you pick up on certain things. They're not even trying to hide it either, you see any other trucks working this late?"
Big Mike didn't care either way. Even if it wasn't drugs, whatever was in that truck was valuable enough for somebody to ship it across an ocean and he was always game to unload merchandise for profit. That wasn't Fabio's M.O. and by extension, it wasn't their crew's M.O. either but with Ronnie onboard, he knew his ass was at least partially covered if it ever got back to their capo.
They watched as the truck left the docks with Big Mike putting the car on drive and gripping on his gun, "How do you want to play this? There's no telling where it's going so we might as well hit it now before it leaves the district. It's not a lot of foot traffic in this area anyway."
"No," Ronnie instructed him, "We'll follow it to its destination."
"If he's right," Big Mike looked at Ronnie, "It might be going to a stash house, one that's going to be armed to the fucking brim."
"We'll follow it," Ronnie insisted as he leaned back into his chair.
…
"It's crazy how we keep running into each other like this," Jamie laughed as she handed Donte his drink, ignoring the death stare that Tess was giving her.
"It was his idea," Donte responded as he tilted his head towards Charlie, "You guys showed him a good time last time we were here, he couldn't wait to be back."
"I did have a really good time," Charlie nodded in agreement.
"I think that had less to do with us and the harem he had with him. Where's the entourage?" Jamie snapped back.
"Just friends tonight," Charlie quickly answered, "You should join us, maybe you and Donte can catch up, I heard you guys were real close back in the day."
"I'm working," she forced a smile, "Besides, I'm sure you can find one of these girls to join you guys."
"What time do you get off?" Charlie asked.
"Another hour or so."
"We'll be here," Charlie smiled back, "Won't we, Donte?"
"I don't see why not," he shrugged, taking a sip of his drink.
"Your outfit is amazing," Jamie finally addressed Tess, who felt a bit left out prior to, "I'll think about it."
…
It was clear to Donte now why Charlie wasn't that worried about Tess' roommate, Carla, not being able to go out with them tonight. He had other plans and those plans included Donte's childhood friend getting nice and cozy with his partner in crime.
"I can't believe you guys left at halftime," Tess snapped Donte out of it, "I'd love to see them play."
Donte got the hint but didn't bite, "Yeah, it's not all that."
"You should come to the city more," she continued, "I feel like I only see you once every few weeks, months even."
"I don't really have business in the city like that," Donte kept it short as he was enjoying his drink and the laid-back atmosphere that was the lounge they had gone to after leaving Jamie's nightclub. The only thing nagging him was Tess' voice and how Charlie's hands would occasionally brush up on Jamie's thigh.
"You want a refill?" Donte asked Tess, not waiting for her answer before he got up and shot Charlie a look, "Let's keep the ladies hydrated, man."
Charlie joined Donte on the walk to the bar where they ordered up four more drinks as the tab for the night kept expanding. Donte kept waiting for Charlie's eyes to meet his but instead he kept looking back at the table, waving towards Jamie.
"You good, man?" Donte finally asked Charlie.
"Yeah, yeah, why?"
"You're getting awfully close there," Donte told him.
"What?"
"You and Jamie, what the fuck?"
"You stepping to me about a girl? You told me you guys were just friends."
"It ain't even like that," Donte sucked his teeth, "I'm just saying, she's not like that."
"Like what?"
"You got a wife, a pregnant wife at that and a baby at home. She's not like that."
"We're just having fun, man, it's not even like that."
"Does she know that?"
"If you're going to step to me, step to me. Otherwise, what are we talking about here?"
"Alright," Donte backed off, "Just wanted to let you know."
"And you have," Charlie caressed his face, "Now, how about you get some pussy and find some sanity? Alright? Good."
…
Under the cover of the night and Big Mike's refined tailing ability, they had tracked the truck all the way into Port Town where it was now parked outside of an unmarked warehouse. The driver stayed with the truck for a few minutes before two gentleman exited the warehouse and began unloading its contents out of the truck and carried it inside.
"If not now, when?" Big Mike once again asked Ronnie who was carefully watching all of this take place from across the street.
"You can't tell?" Ronnie replied, "This is Bruce's spot."
The Moolie of Port Town.
Bobby was thoroughly enjoying his blueberry muffin when he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. He scrambled to put the pastry down, rubbing his fingers together to wipe off the crumbs as he stood up and hugged Joey.
"You want a coffee, skip?"
"I'm good," Joey waved him off as he sat in front of Bobby, pressing his collar down with his thumb and index finger. He wasn't wearing his usual sweats as he donned a navy suit that rested perfectly on his broad shoulders, "They loaded me up with plenty of tea at that place."
"How is he?"
Joey's face soured, letting his eyes wander to the side as he observed the foot traffic around them. They were sitting outside of a little café off Main Street, not too far from where he got pinched for the first time.
"Not good," Joey finally responded, "Not good at all."
"Shit," Joey's mood was contagious as Bobby was now rubbing his hand across his forehead.
"This is for your ears only," Joey said sternly, "I don't know if he sees next spring."
"Don't say that," Bobby sucked his teeth as he believed in the power of words, "He already lost his mom last winter, losing Big Al, that would devastate him."
"What's gonna really ruin him is that fucking hotel," he replied, "I mean, what the fuck?"
"My guys can't take a leak without an inspection," Bobby explained, "Ever since that shit with the learning center and the lead paint, the city's been a prick about it."
"The numbers don't look good, I don't even know if we're even going to break even on this shit anymore."
"Our man in the office can't help?"
"I'm on my way to see him right now," Joey scoffed, "That's a whole another story, you don't even want to get me started on that."
Bobby didn't.
"We're not even cutting corners anymore so I don't have any more fat to cut. It's bad enough we had to bring down all the guys' hours and pay. I don't got to tell you, this keeps up, they'll get real jobs."
"It rolls downhill," Joey shook his head, "This was supposed to be his exit plan, you know? His golden parachute and we're all just shitting on it, that's how it looks."
"I don't know what to tell you, cap. Until we get a few good weeks of getting shit done, no wasted hours, no injuries, none of that bullshit, it's going to be like this. And the weather's been good!"
"Fuck me," Joey couldn't help but laugh.
It wasn't that long ago that they were popping champagne and making toasts after they had elbowed their way into winning the bid for the purchase of the hotel. The city then ruled that the hotel would have to shut down while renovations were happening which already started to cut into their projections and one hiccup after another caused those numbers to go lower and lower until even without any skim, they were losing money every day.
"I thought this shit was behind us," Joey sighed, "God bless the old man but goddamn it, none of this would be happening if we were running with our friends across the state."
"I don't see it," Bobby disagreed, "Even after we gave Vince over, it's one thing to bury the hatchet, it's another to invite them inside your home. Especially after they just saw us turn on one of our own."
"Don't give me that shit," Joey was irritated by Bobby's last comments as true words cut deep, "Vincent dug his own grave way before we grabbed a single shovel."
"I understand better than most the cost of this game and you know that," Bobby assured him, "It was the right decision, the only move to make and we made the right one."
"I sure as shit hope so," Joey was quick to point out.
He was Little Al's right hand man and Bobby was his. While by reputation, Little Al ran things under the advice of Big Al, it was really more a triumvirate between Joey, Bobby and Pete Maninno.
The war with the Casellas, which started with a joke at the expense of Vincent's mom, had sapped Little Al's appetite to be a true boss. He was just twenty-one years old when he got made, right after the Fiore crime family had been established as an independent outfit.
Angelo Casella and Big Al had split off in the early 50s, amicably, to run their own things. Angelo practically helped established the Fiore crime family along with his cousin, Martino Casella, who had just come home after a long bid and was a made guy that ran with Tommy Gagliano's crew back in the day.
The two families set up their operations on opposite side of the state, collaborating when necessary but staying out of each other's ways. Nevertheless, to New York, it was always just the Casella family and the Fiore crew was just a faction of that.
The crews started to pull apart in the 60s when Big Al had a heart attack and Little Al was named acting boss at just twenty-eight and started pushing out the old guard and with it, all connections to the Casella family. To Angelo and Martino, Little Al was still just that: Little Al. So when Vincent put some hot lead into the skull of a Casella crew member following their off-colored joke about how much they would enjoy having relations with his mother, Little Al wasn't able to contain it and three and a half years later, the Fiore crew was decimated and the guys that the Casella family didn't kill off, half of them ended up in jail trying to get their payback.
Big Al had to step in and end the war, the only way it could be ended according to Angelo, unfortunately for Vincent.
"I don't want to keep the man waiting too long," Joey got up, "I'll see what I can do about getting this project going because if we don't, we're in real trouble."
"I hear you," Bobby replied, taking one last bite of his now stale muffin.
…
"Man, body his ass!"
Donte kept a watchful eye on the approaching help defense as he continue to back his defender into the paint before taking a hard dribble towards his left and kicking out to a now open shooter. The thirteen-year old boy elevated and flicked his wrist as the ball went perfectly into the net.
"Game out!" Charlie boasted, slapping Donte on the back before high-fiving the last of their trio.
They had come for Donte to pay his Aunt Jenny a visit but when in Rome, they decided to also play a few game of pickup basketball with the kids that were milling around the playground. Donte had spent many fall weekends as a kid on the blacktop, enjoying the last bit of good weather. While it felt good to be back in his hometown, his body was now paying the consequence as they dragged their ass back to Charlie's car.
"How the fuck did we use to play all day?" Charlie complained as he had to squat down to get inside his car.
…
"There they are," Big Mike pointed them out from inside of his car, "I don't know why we're following them like this, not like we don't know where they live."
"Just shut up and follow me," Ronnie instructed him.
…
Donte was caught off guard as he saw an approaching Big Mike and Ronnie. As far as he knew, they had no business on this side of town, especially not Ronnie. Donte tapped Charlie on the shoulder to get his attention which resulted in him being equally as shocked.
"What the fuck y'all doing here?" Charlie said with a small laugh as without invitation, Ronnie swung open the driver side backseat door while Big Mike got in from the other side and they took a seat.
"This a surprise party or something?" Charlie asked with a bit of irritation in his voice this time.
"We know you're pushing shit," Ronnie spat at him, "We know where you're getting it from, we know who you're getting it from and we know where you're taking it so let's cut the shit."
"What the fuck..." Charlie started to say while Donte was still in shock.
"I know sure as shit no one has signed off on this," Ronnie continued, "So here's how it's going to go down, okay? We get ten grand, cash, upfront and another grand each week after that."
"How the fuck do you figure that?" Charlie was now raging.
"We don't know what you're talking about," Donte added.
"Don't make this hard," Big Mike leaned forward, driving his knee into Donte's seat.
"Fuck you," Charlie shot right back, "And fuck you too, you bitch. The fuck you think this is?"
"Listen," Donte let out a nervous chuckle, "Whatever you think you're doing, you're not doing, okay?"
"No, you fucking listen. You want to escalate this, we can. This is light compared to what we could do to you, bleed your ass fucking dry. You hear me?" Ronnie threatened.
"Get the fuck out of my car before your daddy starts looking for you in a fucking lake somewhere," Charlie's threat was a lot more convincing.
"You want a coffee, skip?"
"I'm good," Joey waved him off as he sat in front of Bobby, pressing his collar down with his thumb and index finger. He wasn't wearing his usual sweats as he donned a navy suit that rested perfectly on his broad shoulders, "They loaded me up with plenty of tea at that place."
"How is he?"
Joey's face soured, letting his eyes wander to the side as he observed the foot traffic around them. They were sitting outside of a little café off Main Street, not too far from where he got pinched for the first time.
"Not good," Joey finally responded, "Not good at all."
"Shit," Joey's mood was contagious as Bobby was now rubbing his hand across his forehead.
"This is for your ears only," Joey said sternly, "I don't know if he sees next spring."
"Don't say that," Bobby sucked his teeth as he believed in the power of words, "He already lost his mom last winter, losing Big Al, that would devastate him."
"What's gonna really ruin him is that fucking hotel," he replied, "I mean, what the fuck?"
"My guys can't take a leak without an inspection," Bobby explained, "Ever since that shit with the learning center and the lead paint, the city's been a prick about it."
"The numbers don't look good, I don't even know if we're even going to break even on this shit anymore."
"Our man in the office can't help?"
"I'm on my way to see him right now," Joey scoffed, "That's a whole another story, you don't even want to get me started on that."
Bobby didn't.
"We're not even cutting corners anymore so I don't have any more fat to cut. It's bad enough we had to bring down all the guys' hours and pay. I don't got to tell you, this keeps up, they'll get real jobs."
"It rolls downhill," Joey shook his head, "This was supposed to be his exit plan, you know? His golden parachute and we're all just shitting on it, that's how it looks."
"I don't know what to tell you, cap. Until we get a few good weeks of getting shit done, no wasted hours, no injuries, none of that bullshit, it's going to be like this. And the weather's been good!"
"Fuck me," Joey couldn't help but laugh.
It wasn't that long ago that they were popping champagne and making toasts after they had elbowed their way into winning the bid for the purchase of the hotel. The city then ruled that the hotel would have to shut down while renovations were happening which already started to cut into their projections and one hiccup after another caused those numbers to go lower and lower until even without any skim, they were losing money every day.
"I thought this shit was behind us," Joey sighed, "God bless the old man but goddamn it, none of this would be happening if we were running with our friends across the state."
"I don't see it," Bobby disagreed, "Even after we gave Vince over, it's one thing to bury the hatchet, it's another to invite them inside your home. Especially after they just saw us turn on one of our own."
"Don't give me that shit," Joey was irritated by Bobby's last comments as true words cut deep, "Vincent dug his own grave way before we grabbed a single shovel."
"I understand better than most the cost of this game and you know that," Bobby assured him, "It was the right decision, the only move to make and we made the right one."
"I sure as shit hope so," Joey was quick to point out.
He was Little Al's right hand man and Bobby was his. While by reputation, Little Al ran things under the advice of Big Al, it was really more a triumvirate between Joey, Bobby and Pete Maninno.
The war with the Casellas, which started with a joke at the expense of Vincent's mom, had sapped Little Al's appetite to be a true boss. He was just twenty-one years old when he got made, right after the Fiore crime family had been established as an independent outfit.
Angelo Casella and Big Al had split off in the early 50s, amicably, to run their own things. Angelo practically helped established the Fiore crime family along with his cousin, Martino Casella, who had just come home after a long bid and was a made guy that ran with Tommy Gagliano's crew back in the day.
The two families set up their operations on opposite side of the state, collaborating when necessary but staying out of each other's ways. Nevertheless, to New York, it was always just the Casella family and the Fiore crew was just a faction of that.
The crews started to pull apart in the 60s when Big Al had a heart attack and Little Al was named acting boss at just twenty-eight and started pushing out the old guard and with it, all connections to the Casella family. To Angelo and Martino, Little Al was still just that: Little Al. So when Vincent put some hot lead into the skull of a Casella crew member following their off-colored joke about how much they would enjoy having relations with his mother, Little Al wasn't able to contain it and three and a half years later, the Fiore crew was decimated and the guys that the Casella family didn't kill off, half of them ended up in jail trying to get their payback.
Big Al had to step in and end the war, the only way it could be ended according to Angelo, unfortunately for Vincent.
"I don't want to keep the man waiting too long," Joey got up, "I'll see what I can do about getting this project going because if we don't, we're in real trouble."
"I hear you," Bobby replied, taking one last bite of his now stale muffin.
…
"Man, body his ass!"
Donte kept a watchful eye on the approaching help defense as he continue to back his defender into the paint before taking a hard dribble towards his left and kicking out to a now open shooter. The thirteen-year old boy elevated and flicked his wrist as the ball went perfectly into the net.
"Game out!" Charlie boasted, slapping Donte on the back before high-fiving the last of their trio.
They had come for Donte to pay his Aunt Jenny a visit but when in Rome, they decided to also play a few game of pickup basketball with the kids that were milling around the playground. Donte had spent many fall weekends as a kid on the blacktop, enjoying the last bit of good weather. While it felt good to be back in his hometown, his body was now paying the consequence as they dragged their ass back to Charlie's car.
"How the fuck did we use to play all day?" Charlie complained as he had to squat down to get inside his car.
…
"There they are," Big Mike pointed them out from inside of his car, "I don't know why we're following them like this, not like we don't know where they live."
"Just shut up and follow me," Ronnie instructed him.
…
Donte was caught off guard as he saw an approaching Big Mike and Ronnie. As far as he knew, they had no business on this side of town, especially not Ronnie. Donte tapped Charlie on the shoulder to get his attention which resulted in him being equally as shocked.
"What the fuck y'all doing here?" Charlie said with a small laugh as without invitation, Ronnie swung open the driver side backseat door while Big Mike got in from the other side and they took a seat.
"This a surprise party or something?" Charlie asked with a bit of irritation in his voice this time.
"We know you're pushing shit," Ronnie spat at him, "We know where you're getting it from, we know who you're getting it from and we know where you're taking it so let's cut the shit."
"What the fuck..." Charlie started to say while Donte was still in shock.
"I know sure as shit no one has signed off on this," Ronnie continued, "So here's how it's going to go down, okay? We get ten grand, cash, upfront and another grand each week after that."
"How the fuck do you figure that?" Charlie was now raging.
"We don't know what you're talking about," Donte added.
"Don't make this hard," Big Mike leaned forward, driving his knee into Donte's seat.
"Fuck you," Charlie shot right back, "And fuck you too, you bitch. The fuck you think this is?"
"Listen," Donte let out a nervous chuckle, "Whatever you think you're doing, you're not doing, okay?"
"No, you fucking listen. You want to escalate this, we can. This is light compared to what we could do to you, bleed your ass fucking dry. You hear me?" Ronnie threatened.
"Get the fuck out of my car before your daddy starts looking for you in a fucking lake somewhere," Charlie's threat was a lot more convincing.
The Moolie of Port Town.
Muhammad's words were falling on deaf ears as Charlie and Donte's brooding lasted the length of the trip. Prior to the trip, Donte and Charlie had been debating and arguing all day about how to handle the situation with Ronnie. It didn't hinder Muhammad's chatty nature one bit as he went from one embellished story after another, ranging from the time he slept with a member of the British royal family to the time he fought off three armed assailants by himself while he was in his underwear at a Pakistani celebrity's house.
"You've never felt fear, my friend, until your dick is out and a gun is pointed at your face."
"Why was your dick out?" Charlie asked with a hint of annoyance and confusion in his question.
"What do you mean?"
"You said you were in your underwear," Charlie replied, "You were coming back from the bathroom after fucking the broad. Was your dick pocking through the boxer or something?"
"What you trying to say? You saying I got a little dick or something?" Muhammad fired back.
"How'd you get that from that?" Donte joined, amused by the conversation.
"I don't know about you but I got spillage," Muhammad pointed at Charlie, who was in the passenger seat next to him, "Ask your mother."
Muhammad had gotten real comfortable -- maybe too comfortable -- but Charlie laughed it off as he had taken a liking to the kid. He was the prototypical 'young, dumb and full of cum' kind of guy you expected to find in any criminal enterprise. He was born in Pakistan but was really a Jersey kid, through and through, having lived here most of his life outside of a few trips back home. It didn't hurt that Muhammad would hook them up with the latest kicks, sometimes even before they dropped.
"I'd rather gas here than in the city," Donte suggested as they passed by another exit.
"We might have enough to make it there and half way back," Muhammad took a peak at the dashboard and decided to keep going.
…
"What the fuck is this?" Muhammad exclaimed in disgust, pulling the bottle away from his lips to read the label again.
"You said to get you something to keep you up," Donte replied, handing Charlie his drink as he got done filling up the truck.
"Yeah, like Red Bull or something. What the fuck is this 'Surge' shit?"
"That's good living right there," Charlie took a vigorous sip of his with no complaint, "Red Bull tastes like battery acid."
"This is diabetes," Muhammad scoffed, "I expected this from him but you? Come on, Charlie, aren't you Italians supposed to have delicate palates?"
"Ask your mother," Charlie had waited all night to return the serve and nearing two o'clock in the morning, he was finally able to. The joke landed well and all three of them laughed as Muhammad continued to mutter complaints about the drink under his breath, all while still drinking it.
"Up front," Charlie motioned to Donte as he held the door open, "I got to get some shuteye in, I'm the one going home to a pregnant lady and a screaming kid."
Donte didn't put up a fight as what awaited them was a poorly lit and inactive highway for the rest of the trip back into Port Town. Even in the front seat of the cabin, he would still be able to fall asleep and get some rest before doing the pickups for Bruce in the morning.
It was a quiet drive as they left the gas station with Muhammad humming along to some music as a strategy to stay awake. Donte would peak over there every few minutes to make sure Muhammad, who had insisted on driving back, was still on the up and up and he was.
They were about fifteen miles from the gas station when bright headlights bouncing off the passenger rearview mirror startled Donte out of his nap. His heart sunk as he thought they were about to get pulled over but when the car moved over to the fast lane to reveal it was a civilian, he positioned himself to go back to sleep. It sped up before returning back to the right side of the two-lane highway, only a few paces ahead of the truck.
"Cocksucker," Donte heard Muhammad mutter to himself as he got ready to try to overtake the car. As soon as Muhammad started moving the truck to the left lane, the car in front of them slammed on the breaks, causing the truck to follow suit.
It was a familiar sight for Donte although one he typically was on the opposite side of as a guy with a ski mask hopped out of the car, brandishing a weapon. Before either one of them could react, another guy seemingly came out of nowhere and was tapping on the passenger side with the tip of his gun.
"Get the fuck out!" they commanded as they frantically looked around to see if any other cars were coming. It was their lucky day as the roads were as deserted as could be.
"Fucking bitch," Muhammad gave in rather quickly, opening his car door, at which point they dragged him out of his seat, causing him to fall on the pavement.
Donte paused and caught himself reflexively looking back towards Charlie for guidance. The next few taps on the window were aggressive in nature to the point Donte was scared the gun might go off on accident so he followed suit with his handler being a lot more gentle, allowing him to get out of the car by himself.
All Donte could look at was the barrel of the gun and how giant it looked, even though it was just a handgun, the same kind of weapon he had pulled out on unsuspecting truck drivers for the past few years.
"Go over there," the one that was nearest Donte commanded both of them as he guided them towards the side of the road. Donte and Muhammad shared looks, both equally puzzled and confused as to how their night so quickly changed as they got patted down, neither of them carrying out of fear of getting pulled over by the cops.
"Get the cars off the fucking road," he commanded his partner who had hopped back inside of their car and drove it off the road, about twenty-yards ahead of where Donte and Charlie were now standing, "Give me the fucking keys."
"They're in the truck," Muhammad managed to get out as his voice trembled.
A bit embarrassed that he hadn't noticed that the truck was still running, the assailant motioned for his partner to move the truck as well. Donte kept waiting for them to notice one more crucial detail but it seemed to have completely slipped their mind. He held his breath as one of the robbers hopped inside the cab, waiting for the moment of discovery to happen and for a wrestling exchange to ensue. Instead, all Donte could make out from the outside was him fumbling around underneath the wheel and after a few failed attempts, getting the truck to move in the direction he wanted it to.
As a car finally drove past on the opposite lane, the one that was holding Donte and Muhammad hostage lowered his gun, trying to play it off. It was unclear whether he was successful or not but the car didn't slow down and it sure as shit didn't turn around. It was enough though to increase the urgency among them as they were now both standing a few feet in front of Donte and Muhammad.
"Let's go!" the one that seemed in charge barked out another command, "Empty the back and let's get the fuck out of here!"
It was a death wish. He took two steps towards the back of the truck before the cabin door swung open, a loud bang followed suit and with it, came three more. Donte had turned away after the first shot was fired and missed the entire thing, dropping to his knees as he was now scared to turn around and see the results.
The sound of Charlie's voice was heaven sent, "Fucking cunt!"
He fired off a few more shots into the last one for good measure, emptying out the clip as he was now standing over his lifeless body. Donte's entire body was shaking as he couldn't believe what he was witnessing. He had been in his fair share of intense situations but this took the cake with extra icing on top.
"What the fuck man!" Muhammad screamed, putting both hands on his head while Donte remained frozen.
With his gun now empty, Charlie rushed over to the other side of the truck to get a good luck at the oncoming traffic. Even for the time, it was eerily inactive with no headlights to be seen.
"I should be asking you that," Charlie panted, "What the fuck happened?"
"They came from nowhere," Muhammad explained, still looking down at the bodies, "What the fuck...."
"Hey, hey, hey!" Charlie yelled at Donte, who was still on his knees, motionless on the side of the road, "We need to move these fucking bodies!"
Donte was still out of it but he managed to get himself up, taking a look down the road for himself to make sure no one was coming. The up close sight of the bodies snapped him back into reality and now his mind was racing a million miles a minute as they loaded the bodies onto the back of the truck.
Once that was taken care of, Charlie scattered the floor for the casings.
"My brothers can take care of this," Muhammad suggested as they were now all back in the cabin of the truck, "They'll know what to do with this but they'll want fucking answers, man."
"We want fucking answers," Charlie snapped back before leaning back into the backseat, taking a deep breath.
"You don't think it's..." Donte muttered his first words since it all happened.
"He wouldn't have the balls," Charlie quickly shot down Donte's suggestion that Ronnie might have been behind this, "He wouldn't even know where to find two guys like this and if he did, he wouldn't send those fucking amateurs. I was six inches away from the prick and he couldn't tell I was back here."
"What if they shot us?" Muhammad said incredulously.
"But they didn't," Charlie defended his decision, "I was just waiting for the right fucking time to hop out. Did you see anyone following us from the city?"
"I don't know," Muhammad shrugged.
Charlie's eyes shifted towards Donte who also shook his head, "I wasn't really paying attention."
"Goddamn it," Charlie sucked his teeth.
"You didn't spot them either," Muhammad shot back, "Your man said it himself, this was one of your guys."
"You don't know shit," Charlie answered sternly, "A lot of people can get hurt when you start throwing out shit like that. So shut the fuck up and just get us back."
Charlie's message was heard loud and clear as they drove into Port Town with two dead guys in the back of the truck.
"You've never felt fear, my friend, until your dick is out and a gun is pointed at your face."
"Why was your dick out?" Charlie asked with a hint of annoyance and confusion in his question.
"What do you mean?"
"You said you were in your underwear," Charlie replied, "You were coming back from the bathroom after fucking the broad. Was your dick pocking through the boxer or something?"
"What you trying to say? You saying I got a little dick or something?" Muhammad fired back.
"How'd you get that from that?" Donte joined, amused by the conversation.
"I don't know about you but I got spillage," Muhammad pointed at Charlie, who was in the passenger seat next to him, "Ask your mother."
Muhammad had gotten real comfortable -- maybe too comfortable -- but Charlie laughed it off as he had taken a liking to the kid. He was the prototypical 'young, dumb and full of cum' kind of guy you expected to find in any criminal enterprise. He was born in Pakistan but was really a Jersey kid, through and through, having lived here most of his life outside of a few trips back home. It didn't hurt that Muhammad would hook them up with the latest kicks, sometimes even before they dropped.
"I'd rather gas here than in the city," Donte suggested as they passed by another exit.
"We might have enough to make it there and half way back," Muhammad took a peak at the dashboard and decided to keep going.
…
"What the fuck is this?" Muhammad exclaimed in disgust, pulling the bottle away from his lips to read the label again.
"You said to get you something to keep you up," Donte replied, handing Charlie his drink as he got done filling up the truck.
"Yeah, like Red Bull or something. What the fuck is this 'Surge' shit?"
"That's good living right there," Charlie took a vigorous sip of his with no complaint, "Red Bull tastes like battery acid."
"This is diabetes," Muhammad scoffed, "I expected this from him but you? Come on, Charlie, aren't you Italians supposed to have delicate palates?"
"Ask your mother," Charlie had waited all night to return the serve and nearing two o'clock in the morning, he was finally able to. The joke landed well and all three of them laughed as Muhammad continued to mutter complaints about the drink under his breath, all while still drinking it.
"Up front," Charlie motioned to Donte as he held the door open, "I got to get some shuteye in, I'm the one going home to a pregnant lady and a screaming kid."
Donte didn't put up a fight as what awaited them was a poorly lit and inactive highway for the rest of the trip back into Port Town. Even in the front seat of the cabin, he would still be able to fall asleep and get some rest before doing the pickups for Bruce in the morning.
It was a quiet drive as they left the gas station with Muhammad humming along to some music as a strategy to stay awake. Donte would peak over there every few minutes to make sure Muhammad, who had insisted on driving back, was still on the up and up and he was.
They were about fifteen miles from the gas station when bright headlights bouncing off the passenger rearview mirror startled Donte out of his nap. His heart sunk as he thought they were about to get pulled over but when the car moved over to the fast lane to reveal it was a civilian, he positioned himself to go back to sleep. It sped up before returning back to the right side of the two-lane highway, only a few paces ahead of the truck.
"Cocksucker," Donte heard Muhammad mutter to himself as he got ready to try to overtake the car. As soon as Muhammad started moving the truck to the left lane, the car in front of them slammed on the breaks, causing the truck to follow suit.
It was a familiar sight for Donte although one he typically was on the opposite side of as a guy with a ski mask hopped out of the car, brandishing a weapon. Before either one of them could react, another guy seemingly came out of nowhere and was tapping on the passenger side with the tip of his gun.
"Get the fuck out!" they commanded as they frantically looked around to see if any other cars were coming. It was their lucky day as the roads were as deserted as could be.
"Fucking bitch," Muhammad gave in rather quickly, opening his car door, at which point they dragged him out of his seat, causing him to fall on the pavement.
Donte paused and caught himself reflexively looking back towards Charlie for guidance. The next few taps on the window were aggressive in nature to the point Donte was scared the gun might go off on accident so he followed suit with his handler being a lot more gentle, allowing him to get out of the car by himself.
All Donte could look at was the barrel of the gun and how giant it looked, even though it was just a handgun, the same kind of weapon he had pulled out on unsuspecting truck drivers for the past few years.
"Go over there," the one that was nearest Donte commanded both of them as he guided them towards the side of the road. Donte and Muhammad shared looks, both equally puzzled and confused as to how their night so quickly changed as they got patted down, neither of them carrying out of fear of getting pulled over by the cops.
"Get the cars off the fucking road," he commanded his partner who had hopped back inside of their car and drove it off the road, about twenty-yards ahead of where Donte and Charlie were now standing, "Give me the fucking keys."
"They're in the truck," Muhammad managed to get out as his voice trembled.
A bit embarrassed that he hadn't noticed that the truck was still running, the assailant motioned for his partner to move the truck as well. Donte kept waiting for them to notice one more crucial detail but it seemed to have completely slipped their mind. He held his breath as one of the robbers hopped inside the cab, waiting for the moment of discovery to happen and for a wrestling exchange to ensue. Instead, all Donte could make out from the outside was him fumbling around underneath the wheel and after a few failed attempts, getting the truck to move in the direction he wanted it to.
As a car finally drove past on the opposite lane, the one that was holding Donte and Muhammad hostage lowered his gun, trying to play it off. It was unclear whether he was successful or not but the car didn't slow down and it sure as shit didn't turn around. It was enough though to increase the urgency among them as they were now both standing a few feet in front of Donte and Muhammad.
"Let's go!" the one that seemed in charge barked out another command, "Empty the back and let's get the fuck out of here!"
It was a death wish. He took two steps towards the back of the truck before the cabin door swung open, a loud bang followed suit and with it, came three more. Donte had turned away after the first shot was fired and missed the entire thing, dropping to his knees as he was now scared to turn around and see the results.
The sound of Charlie's voice was heaven sent, "Fucking cunt!"
He fired off a few more shots into the last one for good measure, emptying out the clip as he was now standing over his lifeless body. Donte's entire body was shaking as he couldn't believe what he was witnessing. He had been in his fair share of intense situations but this took the cake with extra icing on top.
"What the fuck man!" Muhammad screamed, putting both hands on his head while Donte remained frozen.
With his gun now empty, Charlie rushed over to the other side of the truck to get a good luck at the oncoming traffic. Even for the time, it was eerily inactive with no headlights to be seen.
"I should be asking you that," Charlie panted, "What the fuck happened?"
"They came from nowhere," Muhammad explained, still looking down at the bodies, "What the fuck...."
"Hey, hey, hey!" Charlie yelled at Donte, who was still on his knees, motionless on the side of the road, "We need to move these fucking bodies!"
Donte was still out of it but he managed to get himself up, taking a look down the road for himself to make sure no one was coming. The up close sight of the bodies snapped him back into reality and now his mind was racing a million miles a minute as they loaded the bodies onto the back of the truck.
Once that was taken care of, Charlie scattered the floor for the casings.
"My brothers can take care of this," Muhammad suggested as they were now all back in the cabin of the truck, "They'll know what to do with this but they'll want fucking answers, man."
"We want fucking answers," Charlie snapped back before leaning back into the backseat, taking a deep breath.
"You don't think it's..." Donte muttered his first words since it all happened.
"He wouldn't have the balls," Charlie quickly shot down Donte's suggestion that Ronnie might have been behind this, "He wouldn't even know where to find two guys like this and if he did, he wouldn't send those fucking amateurs. I was six inches away from the prick and he couldn't tell I was back here."
"What if they shot us?" Muhammad said incredulously.
"But they didn't," Charlie defended his decision, "I was just waiting for the right fucking time to hop out. Did you see anyone following us from the city?"
"I don't know," Muhammad shrugged.
Charlie's eyes shifted towards Donte who also shook his head, "I wasn't really paying attention."
"Goddamn it," Charlie sucked his teeth.
"You didn't spot them either," Muhammad shot back, "Your man said it himself, this was one of your guys."
"You don't know shit," Charlie answered sternly, "A lot of people can get hurt when you start throwing out shit like that. So shut the fuck up and just get us back."
Charlie's message was heard loud and clear as they drove into Port Town with two dead guys in the back of the truck.
The Moolie of Port Town.
Donte rested his head against the porcelain, an act that would have grossed him out in any other situation. He wiped the corner of his mouth with the neck of his shirt, spitting out any remnants into the toilet bowl before getting to his feet. He flushed the toilet and walked over to the sink, splashing water on his face as he stared into his soul. It was that looked that he remembered from all those years ago.
....
Donte kept looking over his shoulder, expecting the boogie man to jump out at any moment or even worse, a police cruiser. Despite Jamie's pleading, he had decided that lunch was all he came to school for, sneaking out during third period to enjoy an early dismissal. He had previously made the mistake on staying on the main roads when skipping which led to a cop picking him up for truancy or being spotted by one of Aunt Jenny's friends during the twenty minute trek to their apartment. He learned his lesson and now used the back alley behind the shopping plaza across from school which not only kept him out of sight but also cut the journey by a couple of minutes.
The sound of a struggle stopped Donte in his tracks as he peaked his head around the corner where the voices were coming from. He debated turning back around but felt he was flee of foot enough to pass by without being detected. He took a few steps towards the corner and curiosity got the best of him, turning his head around to see what was going on as he passed by, seeing a familiar and unmistakable face pressed up on the wall.
He pondered taking off since Miles hadn't made eye contact with him but as soon as he thought about, their eyes locked which caused the aggressor to look towards Donte as well. The brief paused was just enough time for Miles to wrestle his way out of his firm grasp, creating some space between the two of them. Donte was frozen as the sequence continued with a clanging sound following as a metal object fell to the floor.
As the tussle continued, Miles started to push him away from the metal object which gave Donte a clean look at it.
"Get that shit, D!" Miles commanded, trying to hold off the much bigger man.
It took everything in Donte not to take off running. If 'fight or flight' was a pre-programmed response, his was definitely set to flight. He wanted to be as far away from this corner, and others like it, as he possibly could be and had done so his entire life up to this point. Aided by a divine spirit, Donte sprinted towards the metal object, holding it up like he thought he was supposed to, playing the part he was now casted to play.
The other guy didn't flinch, continuing to wrestle with Miles and not paying much attention to Donte. He looked a few years older than Miles, possibly in his early 20s. Donte wasn't sure if the guy could see that he was holding the gun so he moved a few inches to the left, trying to get into his line of sight.
"Shoot him!" Miles commanded.
Donte continued to move around, trying to get the guy's attention.
"Shoot him!"
Out of nothing but fear and panic, Donte squeezed the trigger.
....
Donte kept looking over his shoulder, expecting the boogie man to jump out at any moment or even worse, a police cruiser. Despite Jamie's pleading, he had decided that lunch was all he came to school for, sneaking out during third period to enjoy an early dismissal. He had previously made the mistake on staying on the main roads when skipping which led to a cop picking him up for truancy or being spotted by one of Aunt Jenny's friends during the twenty minute trek to their apartment. He learned his lesson and now used the back alley behind the shopping plaza across from school which not only kept him out of sight but also cut the journey by a couple of minutes.
The sound of a struggle stopped Donte in his tracks as he peaked his head around the corner where the voices were coming from. He debated turning back around but felt he was flee of foot enough to pass by without being detected. He took a few steps towards the corner and curiosity got the best of him, turning his head around to see what was going on as he passed by, seeing a familiar and unmistakable face pressed up on the wall.
He pondered taking off since Miles hadn't made eye contact with him but as soon as he thought about, their eyes locked which caused the aggressor to look towards Donte as well. The brief paused was just enough time for Miles to wrestle his way out of his firm grasp, creating some space between the two of them. Donte was frozen as the sequence continued with a clanging sound following as a metal object fell to the floor.
As the tussle continued, Miles started to push him away from the metal object which gave Donte a clean look at it.
"Get that shit, D!" Miles commanded, trying to hold off the much bigger man.
It took everything in Donte not to take off running. If 'fight or flight' was a pre-programmed response, his was definitely set to flight. He wanted to be as far away from this corner, and others like it, as he possibly could be and had done so his entire life up to this point. Aided by a divine spirit, Donte sprinted towards the metal object, holding it up like he thought he was supposed to, playing the part he was now casted to play.
The other guy didn't flinch, continuing to wrestle with Miles and not paying much attention to Donte. He looked a few years older than Miles, possibly in his early 20s. Donte wasn't sure if the guy could see that he was holding the gun so he moved a few inches to the left, trying to get into his line of sight.
"Shoot him!" Miles commanded.
Donte continued to move around, trying to get the guy's attention.
"Shoot him!"
Out of nothing but fear and panic, Donte squeezed the trigger.
The Moolie of Port Town.
Charlie was about five years old. That's when the bullying started.
Jesse was only a few years older but at that age, it made a world of a difference. The origins were unclear to Charlie but every time they were on the block together, Jesse would go out of his way to pick on Charlie. It toughened Charlie up although that was hardly Jesse's intentions who in general just had a mean streak. Charlie developed one too over the years but whenever they would cross paths, it was clear who had the upper hand.
They fought a few times in their teens but once both young boys passed puberty, their altercations lessened in intensity and frequency and more into a cold war. Jesse had bigger fish to fry those days and was known to keep that thing on him as a byproduct of his occupation. He started pushing weight and would rob a liquor store or a gas station from time to time with the occasional home invasion across county lines.
Charlie started keeping it on him as well, mainly as a defense mechanism after him, Dexter and Shaun had their pockets ran at gun point one night leaving the basketball courts. They were broke high school kids so the gunman didn't leave with much but for three supposed tough guys to get robbed by one man, it left a bad taste in their mouth which they didn't hesitate to fix.
Charlie was about sixteen year old. That's when the rivalry stopped for good.
He was welcomed as he enter the house to the unmistakable sound of a mattress giving way to some heavy thumping. Ever since his mom has stopped coming around as much, he had given a key to Dexter and Shaun in case they wanted to knock something down away from their domicile where their parents -- not addicted to drugs -- did reside.
"Y'all better not be in my room," Charlie shouted with a grin from the kitchen, causing their to be a halt in the action. He could hear some tussling about from down the hall as he fixed himself something to drink. The more he thought about it, he had just left Shaun and Dexter at school as they had decided to not risk a truancy charge that day.
He gripped up as he approached one of the backrooms, his heart racing as he had never pulled it before. He didn't that day either as he was in complete shock when he kicked the door open to reveal a half naked Jesse picking up his pants while his mother was passed out on the bed, needle marks still fresh.
Jesse didn't waste no time swinging, connecting on the first one before following it up with another flurry of punches with enough landing to send Charlie to the floor. Jesse pounded on him some more before noticing the weapon in Charlie's waistband, pulling it out and examining it.
"This a nice piece for a bitch," he chuckled before looking back over his shoulder to the sight of Charlie's mom's still passed out. He gave him one more kick before gathering his things and leaving the house with a lighter nut sack and another gun.
Charlie didn't waste anytime kicking his mom out of the house and heading straight to the school to pick up Shaun and Dexter. Needless to say, he left some parts of the story out but Charlie's bruises and the missing gun was enough to get them to go on a search party in Shaun's dad's car although truth be told, none of them wanted to find Jesse as finding him met finding trouble.
Trouble did they find at a diner off main street as they spotted him at one of the booths through the windows, chatting up a middle aged woman which just angered Charlie some more. Shaun suggested they trail him from the diner to wherever he was heading next in order to catch him slipping somewhere less crowded and retrieve the gun while hopefully hiding their identity. That was always the plan until Charlie saw him sitting there with that woman who just reminded him of his mom.
"Let me get it," Charlie muttered.
"What?"
"Your piece, hand it over."
Dexter looked at Shaun, almost waiting for his approval before Charlie's fist found the neck of his hoodie, yanking it towards him, "Give me the fucking gun!"
"Alright!" Dexter took it out of his hoodie pocket and slid it over, "Fucking hell!"
"The fuck are you doing?" Shaun asked Charlie as he hopped out of the car, pulling the hoodie over his head.
His heart was racing and his mind was all over the place as he crossed the street, parts of him hoping that a car would hit him. He made it safely across which to Charlie meant this was destined, this was how all of it was supposed to end. A sense of calmness and purposefulness overtook Charlie.
He opened the diner door, walked straight past one of the waitresses that was pouring coffee before pulling out the gun, aiming it right at Jesse's face from a few feet away and pulled the trigger.
Jesse was only a few years older but at that age, it made a world of a difference. The origins were unclear to Charlie but every time they were on the block together, Jesse would go out of his way to pick on Charlie. It toughened Charlie up although that was hardly Jesse's intentions who in general just had a mean streak. Charlie developed one too over the years but whenever they would cross paths, it was clear who had the upper hand.
They fought a few times in their teens but once both young boys passed puberty, their altercations lessened in intensity and frequency and more into a cold war. Jesse had bigger fish to fry those days and was known to keep that thing on him as a byproduct of his occupation. He started pushing weight and would rob a liquor store or a gas station from time to time with the occasional home invasion across county lines.
Charlie started keeping it on him as well, mainly as a defense mechanism after him, Dexter and Shaun had their pockets ran at gun point one night leaving the basketball courts. They were broke high school kids so the gunman didn't leave with much but for three supposed tough guys to get robbed by one man, it left a bad taste in their mouth which they didn't hesitate to fix.
Charlie was about sixteen year old. That's when the rivalry stopped for good.
He was welcomed as he enter the house to the unmistakable sound of a mattress giving way to some heavy thumping. Ever since his mom has stopped coming around as much, he had given a key to Dexter and Shaun in case they wanted to knock something down away from their domicile where their parents -- not addicted to drugs -- did reside.
"Y'all better not be in my room," Charlie shouted with a grin from the kitchen, causing their to be a halt in the action. He could hear some tussling about from down the hall as he fixed himself something to drink. The more he thought about it, he had just left Shaun and Dexter at school as they had decided to not risk a truancy charge that day.
He gripped up as he approached one of the backrooms, his heart racing as he had never pulled it before. He didn't that day either as he was in complete shock when he kicked the door open to reveal a half naked Jesse picking up his pants while his mother was passed out on the bed, needle marks still fresh.
Jesse didn't waste no time swinging, connecting on the first one before following it up with another flurry of punches with enough landing to send Charlie to the floor. Jesse pounded on him some more before noticing the weapon in Charlie's waistband, pulling it out and examining it.
"This a nice piece for a bitch," he chuckled before looking back over his shoulder to the sight of Charlie's mom's still passed out. He gave him one more kick before gathering his things and leaving the house with a lighter nut sack and another gun.
Charlie didn't waste anytime kicking his mom out of the house and heading straight to the school to pick up Shaun and Dexter. Needless to say, he left some parts of the story out but Charlie's bruises and the missing gun was enough to get them to go on a search party in Shaun's dad's car although truth be told, none of them wanted to find Jesse as finding him met finding trouble.
Trouble did they find at a diner off main street as they spotted him at one of the booths through the windows, chatting up a middle aged woman which just angered Charlie some more. Shaun suggested they trail him from the diner to wherever he was heading next in order to catch him slipping somewhere less crowded and retrieve the gun while hopefully hiding their identity. That was always the plan until Charlie saw him sitting there with that woman who just reminded him of his mom.
"Let me get it," Charlie muttered.
"What?"
"Your piece, hand it over."
Dexter looked at Shaun, almost waiting for his approval before Charlie's fist found the neck of his hoodie, yanking it towards him, "Give me the fucking gun!"
"Alright!" Dexter took it out of his hoodie pocket and slid it over, "Fucking hell!"
"The fuck are you doing?" Shaun asked Charlie as he hopped out of the car, pulling the hoodie over his head.
His heart was racing and his mind was all over the place as he crossed the street, parts of him hoping that a car would hit him. He made it safely across which to Charlie meant this was destined, this was how all of it was supposed to end. A sense of calmness and purposefulness overtook Charlie.
He opened the diner door, walked straight past one of the waitresses that was pouring coffee before pulling out the gun, aiming it right at Jesse's face from a few feet away and pulled the trigger.
The Moolie of Port Town.
SLOPPY
The Moolie of Port Town.
"There's no way we were tailed, I'm telling you. I checked my mirrors, we took the routes you told us to take, we did everything right, brother. This is not on us. I'm telling you, someone ratted us out."
Muhammad's pleas were falling on both deaf and dead ears as they continued to bury the bodies in a landfill that Adnan had driven them to. Charlie and Donte were content to close their mouths ever since leaving Adnan's apartment who completely blew a basket when learning of the events of the night. They just kept digging until Adnan told them to stop before dumping the bodies in their respective holes, a few hundred yards away.
It was a rather large dump site so Donte couldn't help but wonder how many dead bodies they had walked over throughout the dark night, using a flash light only when absolutely necessary. Donte was still pretty shaken from the shootings, even more so than that time in the alley or when him and Charlie did the guy from the robbery out of town.
Charlie's mind was preoccupied with other things, primarily the well being of his childhood friends. He trusted Shaun and Dexter with his life but he didn't have the seniority to vouch for them out of this situation if their names came up as potential suspects. Their fates, whether they actually ratted them out or not, were sealed the moment those gunmen appear. Unless another suspect showed up in the last few hours before the crack of dawn, the noose had already been tightened.
…
While the need for sleep and rest was dire, there wasn't the time nor the desire as Donte and Charlie hurried over to Bruce's as soon as they left East Bay. It had been hours since the shooting and the leader of the brothers, Arif, would surely be phoning Bruce at any moment. Charlie had been off the porch long enough to realize that the early dissemination of such news would have a profound impact on the events that would follow, particularly retaliation and the placing of blame. If Dexter and Shaun had any chance on seeing the sun rise the next day, it was imperative that Charlie was able to control the narrative early on.
"You think he's up?" Charlie asked Donte as they walked up the stairs, "What time did you use to pick him up?"
"Not this early," Donte shrugged as they sluggishly got to the top step, "You sure you shouldn't talk to your guys first?"
"They're solid," Charlie assured him.
"I know, I know, I'm just saying. If you don't think it was Ronnie and it wasn't them, who else? It doesn't make sense for us to go out here and vouch for them when we don't even..."
"They're good," Charlie cut him off, "Trust me on this one, D, aight?"
He didn't have much of a choice as Charlie began knocking on the door. He knocked once more just as a disheveled Bruce swung the door open, pulling them inside and closing the door behind them.
"When the fuck were you going to tell me?!" he screamed at them, particularly towards Charlie.
Charlie stumbled over his words before gathering himself, "We were just about to, we came over here, straight from there."
"Bullshit! The prick let me know that he tried to warn you guys," Bruce was still steaming, pacing from one end of the living room to the other, "I bet you it's fucking Michael, he fucking put that cocksucker up to it. Ronnie doesn't have the balls to pull a move like this on someone like me, this has Michael written all over it."
"You think he was behind the robbery?" Donte finally asked, a bit confused with was happening.
"What robbery? What the fuck are you talking about?"
Before Donte could answer, Charlie wisely stepped in, "This thing with Ronnie, what exactly happened?"
"The smug motherfucker said he wanted a piece of our action by the port," Bruce scoffed, "Can you believe that? Fucking blackmailing a made fucking guy all because those motherfuckers at the port doesn't have their shit together."
"How'd he find out?" Charlie kept digging while Donte felt that he was burying the much bigger and more important story which was the robbery.
"He said some shit about having eyes in the port but who fucking knows. Whatever it was, it's got Michael's hands all over it, probably up his ass. What's this about a fucking robbery? I thought we stopped doing that shit."
Charlie didn't say anything and eyed Donte, tossing him the hot potato for him to temporarily handle it.
"We got hit last night during one of our drops," Donte replied, "It ended messy and the brothers aren't too happy about it."
"Wait, what?"
"It was two guys, masked up, guns, we took care of it but like Donte said, the brothers are going to want a sit down, figure out how this happened."
"Ain't it obvious? It's that fucking Michael, it was him, he's got how many jailbirds he can call on to do this type of shit. What'd they look like?"
"I don't know, just regular, white guys. They didn't have any ID on them or anything like that and we didn't stick around to check the car or anything," Charlie answered, "I don't think Ronnie would do something like that. When he came to us, we thought he was just bluffing, I don't think he would actually do anything, nothing like this."
"Good thing I don't pay you to think," Bruce fired back, "What this with the Indians, they asked for a sit down?"
"Yeah," Donte interjected, "The oldest wasn't there but Adnan, he was pretty pissed and wanted you to drive up that night to explain it but we told them we'd head back and set something up."
"He used that word? He wants a 'sit down'? Is that what the fanook said?"
Donte simply nodded, careful not to pour too much gasoline on an already lit fire.
"You head back over there," Bruce commanded Charlie, "You can answer their fucking questions. Who the fuck do they think are? Asking me for a fucking sit down? Yeah, you go over there with your guys and we show strength right now. For all they know, it's someone on their fucking side so let them start thinking that."
"Shaun and Dexter?"
"I don't know their fucking names," Bruce spat back, "Just get the fuck over there."
Despite Bruce's harsh words and tone, Charlie was visibly relieved. Without much needling on his side, he had managed to keep them out of suspicion and likely alive through the day. Even with his brother-in-law now in the crosshairs, he knew that much of Bruce's bluster was for naught as Ronnie likely wasn't behind it and even if he was, it wasn't the same as knocking off two slap dicks like Dexter and Shaun which didn't require any politicking, just an order that had to be followed.
Donte got ready to leave with Charlie but Bruce asked him to stay, "I need you to drive me into the office today."
Donte nodded goodbye to Charlie who left the room and as soon as he did, Bruce pulled Donte closer to him.
"How solid is he?"
"Who?"
"Fucking Charlie," Bruce slapped Donte on the chest with the back of his hand, "You don't think he's running any interference with Ronnie or anything right, set this whole thing up?"
"No, no, definitely not. If it wasn't for Charlie, we probably would be dead on the side of that road right now."
"I know he's your friend but maybe he wants you to think that, you know, get us scared and shit so raise the price."
"Even if it was Ronnie, you don't think he'd show his hand this soon, right?" Donte tried to reason with Bruce by not dismissing his half-baked ideas completely but by slowly rationing with him, "This is too loud for Michael, too bold."
"I don't like it," Bruce shook his head, "We need to nip this in the bud, right fucking now. I know that motherfucker Fabio has had it out for me for a while now, starting with the shit with Charlie. He shows up thirty minutes late to the tee time, like who does that?"
Donte simply nodded along.
"You can handle yourself, right?" Bruce asked Donte.
Donte, once again, nodded.
"Like really handle yourself? Against someone like Ronnie? Someone like Charlie?"
It was becoming increasingly clear why Bruce asked that Donte stay behind.
Muhammad's pleas were falling on both deaf and dead ears as they continued to bury the bodies in a landfill that Adnan had driven them to. Charlie and Donte were content to close their mouths ever since leaving Adnan's apartment who completely blew a basket when learning of the events of the night. They just kept digging until Adnan told them to stop before dumping the bodies in their respective holes, a few hundred yards away.
It was a rather large dump site so Donte couldn't help but wonder how many dead bodies they had walked over throughout the dark night, using a flash light only when absolutely necessary. Donte was still pretty shaken from the shootings, even more so than that time in the alley or when him and Charlie did the guy from the robbery out of town.
Charlie's mind was preoccupied with other things, primarily the well being of his childhood friends. He trusted Shaun and Dexter with his life but he didn't have the seniority to vouch for them out of this situation if their names came up as potential suspects. Their fates, whether they actually ratted them out or not, were sealed the moment those gunmen appear. Unless another suspect showed up in the last few hours before the crack of dawn, the noose had already been tightened.
…
While the need for sleep and rest was dire, there wasn't the time nor the desire as Donte and Charlie hurried over to Bruce's as soon as they left East Bay. It had been hours since the shooting and the leader of the brothers, Arif, would surely be phoning Bruce at any moment. Charlie had been off the porch long enough to realize that the early dissemination of such news would have a profound impact on the events that would follow, particularly retaliation and the placing of blame. If Dexter and Shaun had any chance on seeing the sun rise the next day, it was imperative that Charlie was able to control the narrative early on.
"You think he's up?" Charlie asked Donte as they walked up the stairs, "What time did you use to pick him up?"
"Not this early," Donte shrugged as they sluggishly got to the top step, "You sure you shouldn't talk to your guys first?"
"They're solid," Charlie assured him.
"I know, I know, I'm just saying. If you don't think it was Ronnie and it wasn't them, who else? It doesn't make sense for us to go out here and vouch for them when we don't even..."
"They're good," Charlie cut him off, "Trust me on this one, D, aight?"
He didn't have much of a choice as Charlie began knocking on the door. He knocked once more just as a disheveled Bruce swung the door open, pulling them inside and closing the door behind them.
"When the fuck were you going to tell me?!" he screamed at them, particularly towards Charlie.
Charlie stumbled over his words before gathering himself, "We were just about to, we came over here, straight from there."
"Bullshit! The prick let me know that he tried to warn you guys," Bruce was still steaming, pacing from one end of the living room to the other, "I bet you it's fucking Michael, he fucking put that cocksucker up to it. Ronnie doesn't have the balls to pull a move like this on someone like me, this has Michael written all over it."
"You think he was behind the robbery?" Donte finally asked, a bit confused with was happening.
"What robbery? What the fuck are you talking about?"
Before Donte could answer, Charlie wisely stepped in, "This thing with Ronnie, what exactly happened?"
"The smug motherfucker said he wanted a piece of our action by the port," Bruce scoffed, "Can you believe that? Fucking blackmailing a made fucking guy all because those motherfuckers at the port doesn't have their shit together."
"How'd he find out?" Charlie kept digging while Donte felt that he was burying the much bigger and more important story which was the robbery.
"He said some shit about having eyes in the port but who fucking knows. Whatever it was, it's got Michael's hands all over it, probably up his ass. What's this about a fucking robbery? I thought we stopped doing that shit."
Charlie didn't say anything and eyed Donte, tossing him the hot potato for him to temporarily handle it.
"We got hit last night during one of our drops," Donte replied, "It ended messy and the brothers aren't too happy about it."
"Wait, what?"
"It was two guys, masked up, guns, we took care of it but like Donte said, the brothers are going to want a sit down, figure out how this happened."
"Ain't it obvious? It's that fucking Michael, it was him, he's got how many jailbirds he can call on to do this type of shit. What'd they look like?"
"I don't know, just regular, white guys. They didn't have any ID on them or anything like that and we didn't stick around to check the car or anything," Charlie answered, "I don't think Ronnie would do something like that. When he came to us, we thought he was just bluffing, I don't think he would actually do anything, nothing like this."
"Good thing I don't pay you to think," Bruce fired back, "What this with the Indians, they asked for a sit down?"
"Yeah," Donte interjected, "The oldest wasn't there but Adnan, he was pretty pissed and wanted you to drive up that night to explain it but we told them we'd head back and set something up."
"He used that word? He wants a 'sit down'? Is that what the fanook said?"
Donte simply nodded, careful not to pour too much gasoline on an already lit fire.
"You head back over there," Bruce commanded Charlie, "You can answer their fucking questions. Who the fuck do they think are? Asking me for a fucking sit down? Yeah, you go over there with your guys and we show strength right now. For all they know, it's someone on their fucking side so let them start thinking that."
"Shaun and Dexter?"
"I don't know their fucking names," Bruce spat back, "Just get the fuck over there."
Despite Bruce's harsh words and tone, Charlie was visibly relieved. Without much needling on his side, he had managed to keep them out of suspicion and likely alive through the day. Even with his brother-in-law now in the crosshairs, he knew that much of Bruce's bluster was for naught as Ronnie likely wasn't behind it and even if he was, it wasn't the same as knocking off two slap dicks like Dexter and Shaun which didn't require any politicking, just an order that had to be followed.
Donte got ready to leave with Charlie but Bruce asked him to stay, "I need you to drive me into the office today."
Donte nodded goodbye to Charlie who left the room and as soon as he did, Bruce pulled Donte closer to him.
"How solid is he?"
"Who?"
"Fucking Charlie," Bruce slapped Donte on the chest with the back of his hand, "You don't think he's running any interference with Ronnie or anything right, set this whole thing up?"
"No, no, definitely not. If it wasn't for Charlie, we probably would be dead on the side of that road right now."
"I know he's your friend but maybe he wants you to think that, you know, get us scared and shit so raise the price."
"Even if it was Ronnie, you don't think he'd show his hand this soon, right?" Donte tried to reason with Bruce by not dismissing his half-baked ideas completely but by slowly rationing with him, "This is too loud for Michael, too bold."
"I don't like it," Bruce shook his head, "We need to nip this in the bud, right fucking now. I know that motherfucker Fabio has had it out for me for a while now, starting with the shit with Charlie. He shows up thirty minutes late to the tee time, like who does that?"
Donte simply nodded along.
"You can handle yourself, right?" Bruce asked Donte.
Donte, once again, nodded.
"Like really handle yourself? Against someone like Ronnie? Someone like Charlie?"
It was becoming increasingly clear why Bruce asked that Donte stay behind.
The Moolie of Port Town.
Donte was pleasantly surprised to find Charlie's car parked out directly in front of the staircase that led to his first story apartment. He had been prepared to sit in his car all day, waiting for Charlie to return from his meeting out in East Bay with the Pakistani brothers. He rushed out of the car and knocked on the door, half praying that Charlie's partner wouldn't be there as he had gotten the distinct feeling that she wasn't too fond of him.
His prayers weren't answered as she answered the door, crying toddler in her arms and her belly sticking out, "What?"
"I'm here for....yo Charlie!" Donte yelled through her into the apartment which only agitated her some more. He immediately regretted it but it was too late as she slammed the door in his face.
A few moments passed before it was opened once more, this time by Charlie who didn't bother greeting him as he simply retreated back into the living room where Donte followed him. He plopped down on the couching, getting reacquainted with the bottle that he appeared to have been nursing all day from the smell that emitted from his body as Donte got nearer.
"What'd the brothers say?" Donte asked, anxious for his answer before Donte divulged the information he came over to relay.
"What?" Charlie slurred.
"The brothers," he took a seat, "How'd it go?"
"Oh," Charlie realized, "I never went, something came up."
"What do you mean something came up?" Donte asked as Charlie started to daze off only to be awaken up by a stern shake from Donte, "What the fuck, man?"
"I went over there," he started, "After what you said, about not being sure. They weren't at their house man, even checked Shaun's old lady spot, he hasn't been there in days. I scared her, scared her real good. I don't know man, it's just fucked up."
"What are you even saying right now?"
"You bring them in," he continued slurring, "You try to feed them, put them on because they're good guys, solid guys and what do they do? They fuck you! I know what I have to do though, don't you worry, I know exactly what I have to do."
"Fucking bitches," Donte seethed, upset simultaneously at Shaun and Dexter for fucking them over, Charlie for picking them and Bruce for entrusting Charlie with finding them instead of him.
None of it mattered though, at least not right now.
"We'll handle them later," Donte stressed, "What's done is done, anyway. I just came from Bruce and the way he's talking, I don't know, I think he's going to try to greenlight Ronnie and you're not much lower on the list, maybe even Michael."
"Fucking right," Charlie dismissed him but when he saw the stern look on Donte's face, he started to sober up, "What did he say, exactly?"
"He was feeling me out," Donte relayed, "Seeing where I stood with you and Ronnie and Mike but it's clear man, he's going to make a move and if I'm not the one, he's going to find another delivery man."
"I can't have that," Charlie leaned towards Donte, "I mean the kid is a dick and I hate his fucking guts but you know I can't have that, this is pretty much my blood we're talking about here."
"I know, it's why I came over right away."
"That fucking prick," Charlie spat, "When he's right, he's right and Bruno told me to stay away from that fuck and fucking Ronnie, he just had to come fuck up a good thing too."
"I can try to hold him off," Donte suggested, "Maybe try to reason with him or say I'll do it and take my time and hopefully he changes his mind but.."
"We don't have time for that," Charlie cut him off, "If he's serious about this, especially with Michael, this is going to get ugly. He either outsources it or he asks for a sit down at which point it's fucking war, ain't no other way around it and we're the two fucks without a paddle. I know he's your guy and mentor and all but at some point, enough is enough."
"He's not," Donte quickly replied.
"I'll handle it," Charlie cleared his throat, "I mean it'll be messy for a while after that but no one fucking likes the guy anyway so I doubt anyone's going to go fucking Columbo on this one and try to piece it together. He won't suffer either, you have my word."
"No," Donte sat up, "This is my mess to clean up, just handle the boys and meet with the brothers."
His prayers weren't answered as she answered the door, crying toddler in her arms and her belly sticking out, "What?"
"I'm here for....yo Charlie!" Donte yelled through her into the apartment which only agitated her some more. He immediately regretted it but it was too late as she slammed the door in his face.
A few moments passed before it was opened once more, this time by Charlie who didn't bother greeting him as he simply retreated back into the living room where Donte followed him. He plopped down on the couching, getting reacquainted with the bottle that he appeared to have been nursing all day from the smell that emitted from his body as Donte got nearer.
"What'd the brothers say?" Donte asked, anxious for his answer before Donte divulged the information he came over to relay.
"What?" Charlie slurred.
"The brothers," he took a seat, "How'd it go?"
"Oh," Charlie realized, "I never went, something came up."
"What do you mean something came up?" Donte asked as Charlie started to daze off only to be awaken up by a stern shake from Donte, "What the fuck, man?"
"I went over there," he started, "After what you said, about not being sure. They weren't at their house man, even checked Shaun's old lady spot, he hasn't been there in days. I scared her, scared her real good. I don't know man, it's just fucked up."
"What are you even saying right now?"
"You bring them in," he continued slurring, "You try to feed them, put them on because they're good guys, solid guys and what do they do? They fuck you! I know what I have to do though, don't you worry, I know exactly what I have to do."
"Fucking bitches," Donte seethed, upset simultaneously at Shaun and Dexter for fucking them over, Charlie for picking them and Bruce for entrusting Charlie with finding them instead of him.
None of it mattered though, at least not right now.
"We'll handle them later," Donte stressed, "What's done is done, anyway. I just came from Bruce and the way he's talking, I don't know, I think he's going to try to greenlight Ronnie and you're not much lower on the list, maybe even Michael."
"Fucking right," Charlie dismissed him but when he saw the stern look on Donte's face, he started to sober up, "What did he say, exactly?"
"He was feeling me out," Donte relayed, "Seeing where I stood with you and Ronnie and Mike but it's clear man, he's going to make a move and if I'm not the one, he's going to find another delivery man."
"I can't have that," Charlie leaned towards Donte, "I mean the kid is a dick and I hate his fucking guts but you know I can't have that, this is pretty much my blood we're talking about here."
"I know, it's why I came over right away."
"That fucking prick," Charlie spat, "When he's right, he's right and Bruno told me to stay away from that fuck and fucking Ronnie, he just had to come fuck up a good thing too."
"I can try to hold him off," Donte suggested, "Maybe try to reason with him or say I'll do it and take my time and hopefully he changes his mind but.."
"We don't have time for that," Charlie cut him off, "If he's serious about this, especially with Michael, this is going to get ugly. He either outsources it or he asks for a sit down at which point it's fucking war, ain't no other way around it and we're the two fucks without a paddle. I know he's your guy and mentor and all but at some point, enough is enough."
"He's not," Donte quickly replied.
"I'll handle it," Charlie cleared his throat, "I mean it'll be messy for a while after that but no one fucking likes the guy anyway so I doubt anyone's going to go fucking Columbo on this one and try to piece it together. He won't suffer either, you have my word."
"No," Donte sat up, "This is my mess to clean up, just handle the boys and meet with the brothers."