Dying for a Fix

by G. K. Parks

  “Are you positive you can handle this, Agent Parker?” Cooper asked, interrupting whatever Mark was about to say.

  Biting my lip, I nodded. This was the job. And I knew how to do it. The only problem was I didn’t want to be in deep cover.

  “Then let’s get to it,” Jablonsky said, ushering a tech inside to administer my drug test before the team was brought up to speed on recent developments and Francisco Steele’s history.

  Francisco Steele’s name was on half a dozen apartment leases in the neighborhood, but he didn’t have a set address listed anywhere. On paper, he had a day job as a bike messenger. It served as the perfect cover for drop-offs and pick-ups for his illegal exchanges. It also explained how he tended to loiter around at all hours of the day and night.

  But that was only part of Francisco Steele’s paper trail. Before Steele turned eighteen, he was accused of murder, armed robbery, aggravated assault, and possession, but not everything stuck. He spent a few years in juvie, from the time he was fourteen to eighteen. His lack of parental guidance, the extreme circumstances surrounding his mother’s murder, and his age at the time must have influenced the judge which gave him a slightly easier way out. But once he turned eighteen, Steele returned to the neighborhood and was forced to find ways to fend for himself with nothing more than a GED and a history of violent crimes.

  Six months later, Steele was arrested and brought up on possession with the intent to distribute. The charges were dropped, and he continued to be a frequent flyer through the court system. His sentences ranged from a few months to a couple of years. Amazingly, he managed to avoid three strikes sentencing due to jurisdiction and changing legislation. The lucky bastard managed to benefit from ex post facto.

  “When did he start running with the KXDs?” I asked, tired of reading through the extensive court proceedings.

  “Realistically, I’d say it started after his mother was killed. Francisco Steele needed a family for protection, so he sought out the only other family he ever knew, the gangs,” Agent Lucca said. “At the time, Bard was in the process of creating the KXDs which explains how Steele became so highly placed among the rank and file. Timing is everything.”

  “Steele was there from the get go. He was just some badass kid that had a huge chip on his shoulder and a lot to prove. And frankly, he had absolutely nothing left to lose,” I said, realizing it explained the reason Francisco was who he was.

  “Parker,” Jablonsky said my name sharply, “you can’t manipulate someone like that.”

  Smirking, I retorted, “Wanna bet?” But manipulation wasn’t my intention. Turning Steele wasn’t possible. He was loyal to Bard and the KXDs. Even if it were possible to sow some seeds of distrust, he wouldn’t see a conspiracy surrounding him. He’d simply excise the malignant members of the gang and stop the cancer from spreading throughout the rest of the KXDs. That’s why infiltration was so dangerous. “Francisco’s not our weak link, but someone has to be. What do we have on the unidentified man that we ran through facial rec?”

  “Lyndon Khary,” Lucca said, grabbing a folder from the bottom of the stack and opening it so the four of us could see it, “real estate developer. He owns four of the six apartment buildings in that neighborhood.”

  “He’s a slum lord,” Cooper said. “Originally, he was on our radar, but we never had him under surveillance, nor did we observe him in proximity to any of the KXDs.”

  “Either he’s getting sloppy, or he’s not involved,” Jablonsky added.

  “They keep a supply somewhere nearby. Steele doesn’t carry enough product on him because he fears the potential ramifications if he were caught,” I pointed out.

  “We’re looking into property records, but we have a problem. At last count, there were over thirty members in the KXDs, not counting the new recruits and wannabes. Each of them has at least one apartment. Bard has his own business, and he has partners and associates that we still aren’t aware of,” Lucca said.

  “Which means you don’t know where to look,” I said.

  “That’s precisely why we’ve had an agent monitoring the situation for several months,” Cooper snapped, agitated by the wasted time and nearly scrapped operation. “It’s why you have to get close to Bard.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  We spent the next couple of hours reviewing the intel, my changing role, and the way the new drop site and interaction with the OIO would work. Whenever my gym membership card was scanned, an agent would arrive, provide some cover surveillance, and procure whatever I left in the locker once I cleared the area. Every night I went to work at the club, someone would be there to keep tabs on me and the situation. It was nice to know there was back-up, but it didn’t alleviate any of the issues at the apartment.

  After hashing out the finer nuances, Lucca and Cooper vacated the conference room, heading back to FBI HQ to update Director Kendall on recent developments, submit requisitions, and gain approval for the additional manpower needed to ensure my safety and the sanctity of the operation. Giving the files a final glance, I leaned back in the chair and shut my eyes. Maybe Mark would let me stay in the office building for a few hours to sleep. That would be the most challenging part of this mess, achieving the optimal level of comfort and exhaustion to sleep in that roach infested hovel while gang members dealt drugs a few feet from my front door. Yeah, that really wasn’t going to work. And I thought I had insomnia before. Ha.

  “Alex,” Jablonsky lowered his voice and glanced around, even though we were alone, “do whatever you have to in order to stay safe. I don’t care what it is. We will deal with the aftermath later.”

  “Mark,” I opened my eyes and looked at him, “I’ll be fine. And I’m not about to shoot up or screw Francisco’s brains out in order to stay that way.” A thought crossed my mind, and I grabbed a sheet of paper and pen. After scribbling down a few words, I folded the paper, stuck it inside one of the empty manila envelopes, and sealed it. “But just in case, give this to Martin if I don’t make it back.”

  “What did I just say?”

  “Don’t worry. There’s no reason in this world why this will ever be opened.” I shrugged. “It’s like insurance. You pay for it, but it’s not because you plan to use it. Basically, you’re just throwing money at some nameless, faceless corporation in case the what ifs happen.”

  “So now I’m nameless and faceless?”

  “You have to be in order to watch my back.”

  * * *

  The rest of the week was hell. Maybe it was more than a week. I couldn’t remember. I’d barely slept in far too many days to even count. My routine was simple. Go to the apartment, conduct surveillance, stop by the gym, leave the reports and corresponding feed in the locker, go to the strip club and silently observe a few members of the KXDs scattered throughout, then head back to the apartment.

  Francisco’s promise of an introduction had fallen to the wayside. There was no reason for him to doubt the veracity of my cover, but he was standoffish after the night he spent inside my apartment. Then he practically disappeared. When I searched for him outside, I didn’t see him, and since he didn’t give me his phone number, I had to wait for him to make the first move.

  By now, Nicholson should have been dying for a fix. And I was dying for a reprieve. It was Tuesday morning. I’d returned from another night at the Black Cat on the verge of giving in to my irrational, homicidal thoughts. If one more disgusting excuse for a man slapped my ass again, I would kill him. It was time for a break. Grabbing my belongings, the sun wasn’t even up when I left the apartment, entered a waiting cab, and went to the motel.

  The room key unlocked a door on the third floor, and after performing my due diligence to check outside for signs of a tail and inside for any malicious tampering, I flopped onto the bed. Even now, sleep was elusive, but within an hour, I conked out. And when I opened my eyes again, the sun was just setting. It was obvious I couldn’t do this much longer.

  After cautioning another glance outsid
e, I picked up the burner and dialed Mark’s disposable. He picked up, and I gave him my location and expounded on my frustration at Francisco’s disappearance. He offered to check with the police and hospitals to see if Steele had been arrested or admitted. With no other angles to work, I stayed at the motel for another hour, watching mindless television and decompressing. When it was time to leave, I changed into my Black Cat getup and called another cab.

  Arriving at the strip joint, I went in the back, changed in the locker room, noting the hard stares and angry glares that were traveling in my direction. Having no idea what caused the sudden hostility, I ignored it as long as I could, but when Veronica walked in, barking at the others to leave, I had no choice but to react.

  “What the hell is your problem?” I asked. Luckily for her, I was well-rested. If I wasn’t, we’d be exchanging more than heated words.

  “You moved in on my territory, and you need to learn your place.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “Francisco.”

  “What about Francisco?” How did she even know Francisco or about my connection to him?

  She stomped forward, invading my personal space and backing me against the lockers. Striking out wouldn’t be conducive to getting my questions answered and would likely result in my being fired. And strangely enough, I needed this job, or at least Alexia did. Instead, I held her gaze and my tongue. She grabbed my arm and yanked it up.

  “I got myself clean, but instead, he wants another dirty crack whore to do his bidding.” She scowled, baring her teeth. “The asshole says he can’t trust someone who doesn’t use what they sell. But truth be told, it’s because he doesn’t have power over me, and he knows it. He can’t control me anymore.” Despite her empowered words, she was pissed that I was replacing her. “I’d give it a month before he turns you out on the streets.” She sneered. “And I’m gonna laugh my ass off when that happens.”

  Shoving her backward, I turned back to my locker. “You’re crazy. He would never do something like that.” I slammed the door shut and spun to face her. “And how the hell do you know anything about him or me?”

  She slapped me, losing one of her fake acrylic nails in the process. “You don’t get it. But you will. And you’ll regret it.”

  Twelve

  When I exited the locker room, my eyes were immediately drawn to Francisco. He was alone in a round booth near the back corner. On the table were a few empty shot glasses, and he seemed far too serious for someone who should be enjoying a moderate level of nudity. His appearance also explained Veronica’s sudden hostility. Her shift started two hours before mine. Whatever he said to her must have struck a nerve. However, I still couldn’t determine their connection.

  Nodding hello to Joe, I headed straight to Francisco. His eyes remained focused on the center stage, and he didn’t bother to look at me until I was next to him. He shifted in the booth, scooting sideways.

  “Where’ve you been?” I asked, sounding annoyed.

  “Around.” His eyes continued to dart from the stage to me and back again. “So this is where you disappear every night?” He made a wide gesture, encompassing the room.

  “It pays the bills. Well, the tips pay the bills.”

  “But you don’t dance.” His eyes studied me for a few moments. “So how much money in tips does a waitress make?”

  “Depends on the night. Around a hundred, sometimes two.”

  He nodded, sliding out of the booth. He stood up, lingering close but not quite touching me. “I can cover that and your expensive habit. Remember what we talked about?”

  “Uh-huh.” I nodded. “What do you want me to do? And what does any of this have to do with Veronica?”

  He snickered. “Damn, that woman has a big mouth. What’d she say to you?”

  “She said I’d regret this.”

  His hand ran up my side. “Have you regretted anything so far?”

  “No.”

  He smiled. “Good. I’ll be at your place tonight when you get home. Get cleaned up before you leave here. There’s someone you’ll need to impress.” Without another word or hint as to what was going to happen later, he dropped a thick stack of dollars on the table and went to the door.

  As soon as he left, I scooped up the money, realizing it was the same stack I used to pay for the heroin. The undercover agent acting as a bouncer caught my eye, and I hoped to convey my utter confusion with a fleeting glance. He moved off to the side and spoke briefly with one of the Black Cat’s patrons, yet another agent. The good news was we had plenty of eyes inside, but the bad news was Steele was no longer on the premises.

  An hour into my shift, Veronica went home. She claimed to have a migraine, but I didn’t believe it. More importantly, I still couldn’t pinpoint the connection between her and Francisco. This seemed like something Agent Lucca or another one of the analysts should have determined, but no one knew anything, unless they just didn’t bother to share that intel with me. The sooner we could connect this club to the KXDs, the better off we’d be. From what Francisco led me to believe, the KXDs wanted to expand and sell out of the clubs and titty bars, but some other entity had taken over or tried to. Since I was currently lacking in government resources, I would just have to get creative and use the other means at my disposal to piece things together.

  “She seriously bitch slapped you?” Joe asked as I sat on the back counter behind the bar, wallowing in self-pity. Realistically, I was scoping out the clientele and keeping the handsier patrons from pawing at me. At least two punks from the neighborhood were at the Black Cat, and I assumed it was so Francisco could keep tabs on me. Thankfully, I wasn’t stupid enough to jeopardize my cover that easily. “Dude,” his eyes lit up, “that’s like every guy’s fantasy. Two strippers going at it.”

  “First, I’m not a stripper. And second, I don’t think a slap fest is what comes to mind when they think of two girls going at it.”

  “Fine.” He rolled his eyes. “But still, it’d be a main event to have two women fighting in their underwear. I could sell tickets.” My eyes narrowed, and he smiled. “Shit, I’d referee too. Don’t worry. There’d be no hitting below the belt or in that general boyshort region.”

  When I first met Joe, something seemed off about him, and it had taken a night or two before I realized he was playing for the other team. He wasn’t exactly in the closet, but he probably wanted to downplay his own sexuality in this type of environment. I didn’t blame him. I was in the midst of perpetrating my own deception.

  “So do I actually have something to worry about?” I asked, shifting the conversation back to serious. During my rendition of what occurred, I left out most of the key details, but maybe he’d still have something to spill on Francisco Steele.

  “Vee’s all bark and no bite from what I hear. But she’s accusing you of stealing her man, so that could make her claws come out.”

  “Have you ever seen her with anyone? We’re told to flirt, but I never noticed her spending extra time with anyone special.”

  “She does her job the same as you. I don’t follow the gossip much. The dancers have a lot of stories to tell, but typically, there aren’t that many tales from the wait staff, aside from the occasional lap dance or drunk manhandling them. You’ve been here long enough to know how it is.”

  “Yeah.” The question on my mind wasn’t one I should be asking, but I couldn’t help it. “Hey, Joe, have you ever heard about anyone dealing out of the club?”

  His eyes shot up, and the look on his face said he did. “No,” he replied forcefully. “And you don’t know anything about that either, understand?”

  “Not in the least, but I’ll take your word for it.”

  “You better.” His tone was cautionary, not threatening. “Bad things happen occasionally. My advice is to keep your nose clean and mind your own business.”

  “Does Veronica listen to your advice?”

  “No, but she should have.” He placed a tray of drin
ks on the counter. “Now get back to work, Alexia. I’d hate to have to call the manager and tell him the newest hire isn’t pulling her weight around here.” He offered his hand, helping me down from the counter. I picked up the tray, and Joe smacked my butt, earning a round of whistles from the men at the bar. He smirked in an attempt to lighten the mood when I turned to give him my best drop dead look.

  The next few hours flew by in a mess of glitter, cash, and booze. Unfortunately, nothing useful was gained concerning the KXDs, Veronica, or whatever it was Joe wasn’t saying. When I went to cash out for the night, Joe kept busy to avoid further conversation, and I had no choice but to let the matter drop. He didn’t want to talk about the drugs running in and out of the club, and pushing too hard would make someone suspicious.

  Returning to the locker room, I was layering up in preparation for the bitter cold when Sasha entered. She took a seat on the bench next to me and hiked up her leg to undo the strap on her stiletto. On the seat between us, she laid a hefty stack of cash.

  “Looks like you had a good night,” I said, sounding friendly.

  “Depends on your definition, but a few hundred for a half hour in the private room isn’t too shabby.” She dropped a shoe to the ground and repeated the process with the other. “I heard something about you and Vee getting into it again today.”

  “Yeah. Apparently I’ve stolen her man or some shit like that. Who knows?”

  “Francisco?” She tilted her head, indicating she already heard the story. “It’s a small club. Word gets around.” She stood, opening her locker and pulling out a sweatshirt and leggings. “Just be careful.”

  “Veronica doesn’t scare me.”

  “That’s not who you should be afraid of.” She closed the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Night, Alexia.”

  “Night.”

  Okay, what the hell was going on? I sent a brief encoded text to Mark’s burner with information on my impending meet and a request for backgrounds on every Black Cat employee. Things weren’t what they appeared. And I didn’t know if I was the only one in the dark or if we were all fumbling around blind.