He watched the holographic projections of neon partiers skip in the air over the crowd. She would be in there waiting, already aware of his current predicament. How pissed would she be, he wondered. Pissed beyond reason, he expected.
Revving the bike’s engine, he parted the sea of teenagers. Some moved without complaint, but others were flippant and shouted insults his way. He ignored them and drove down the alley to the rear entrance. Unlike the front, this area was devoid of people.
As he parked the bike, the backdoor blew open, flooding the alley with music. An umber giant stomped out of the building, holding up an inebriated Hi-riser boy by a syntho-leather chest strap.
The puny kid flailed. “Take your filthy hands off me!”
“Sure thing, cupcake.” The giant obliged, tossing the boy onto a pile of trash.
Not far behind, another bouncer dragged the girlfriend out by her hair. Shoved hard, she landed on top of her companion. Stumbling to her feet, greasy food particles slid off her clothes. “Mange de merde et meurs, soldat pute!” she swore at them.
Holding on to one another, the soused couple swayed toward the street. The bouncers provided escort with boisterous laughter.
“So when did you become a garbage man, Tank?” Max greeted him.
Avery “Tank” Rocco spun on his prosthetic heels and showed his big grin. “Ever since it started piling up,” he answered. “How the devil have you been doing?”
Tank lifted him up in a crushing hug.
“Well — you know — just living the dream,” Max gasped.
The giant released his friend. “I hear you, brother. Where you been hiding?”
“I’ve been around. Besides, who says I’m hiding?”
“Patti’s been looking for you. That means one thing.”
“Do me a favor and tell her you didn’t see me.”
Tank placed a palm on Max’s shoulder. The weight of the mechanical hand was heavy and the boy’s knees buckled. “You know I can’t do that. I love my job too much. Go on. Grow a pair and see her.”
“How about helping me, you know like old times?”
“You ain’t a kid anymore.”
“Alright,” he sighed. “But, only for you.”
Tank slapped him on the back, almost knocking him over.
“Hey, if I don’t come back alive, just know I love you, man.” His heart skipped out of sync with the music spewing from the club. Petrified numbness made the first step seem impossible. The second and third were easier, but not by much.
“Hey, what about your bike?”
The fate of someone else's property wasn't his concern. If it got snatched, he would just shop for another. “It’s okay. It ain’t mine.”
Max disappeared inside the club.
Tank shook his squat head. That boy was heading nowhere good.
Max entered by way of the service area into the main lounge where hundreds of clubbers crammed the largest of the two dance floors. In the smoke, holographic patterns of psychedelic lines bounced to the beat of the relentless tracks. At the crescent-shaped bar, bartenders poured libations to greedy customers.
Weaving across the dance floor, he stopped to watch two sexy girls gyrating on one another. The seductresses noticed his attention and returned the favor by pulsating on his sides. Before he reluctantly tore from their favor, one of the girls pulled him to her and latched his lips to hers, delivering a signature calling card with her mouth’s moistness.
He groaned. “Oh, if only I had the time.”
Hidden in an ignored alcove at the far end of the club, Zoe saw him move from the girls and go to the grand staircase. She repositioned outside the range of flashing lights to better trace his movements as he climbed the risers to the top floor, minding not to draw undesirable notice to her attendance.
Concerned for her brigend mark, she ruffled her blouse collar to cover her neck. Incognito was pointless for many reasons, one of which was her choice of attire. It was not up to par with the affluent excesses flaunted around her. The females were more or less naked in their sheer outfits. By lifting their hands in the air, they raised hemlines and exposed parts that were typically hidden by modest attire. Because her prudish fashion sense was a generation or two out of style, a few judgmental eyes drifted her way.
With nothing for her to do but wait for his reappearance, her awareness roamed to the large viewer screens bolted over the bar. The latest hunter snatches displayed in ultra-dimensional clarity to the crowd’s delight. When the report of the Vega Brothers’ latest victories recapped, bookies paid out jackpots to the lucky gamblers. People cheered at the monetary value of Bronson’s death bounty. Zoe’s hate boiled in her veins. She wanted to seal up the club and burn it to the ground with these elitist scum trapped inside.
Her teeth dug the cracks of her bottom lip.
Calm down! I’m not here to start a fight.
Max rooted his feet to the floorboards outside the office door. By confessing to his latest indiscretions, he predicted there would be plenty of yelling, cursing, and the always excruciating ear tugging.
Standing there, he felt like he did when he was the troublesome ten-year old caught stealing booze from the storeroom and selling shots to the local kids. By that age, he had learned to run when her anger flared. To avoid her raging conniption for that misdeed, he hid from her for days. After a while, she resorted to hiring a bounty hunter. Putting a prize on a child’s head may seem overly excessive to most rational adults, but for her, that was a reasonable reaction.
He inhaled another courage breath. Feeling cocky from the oxygen’s euphoric rush, he twisted the doorknob and swaggered inside. Seeing Boss Cho sitting in a chair across from Patti’s desk zapped the false bravado. The refined Asian didn’t flinch at his entry. He sat there and expelled thick cigar smoke from his mouth, coolly savoring its sweet taste.
Patti Luma rocked in a chair behind the desk with her back to the others, sipping whiskey from a glass. Max could tell she was pissed. He wanted to tuck-tail and run, but it was too late for a cowardly egress.
Paz and Paco, both worse for wear, waited in the background. The older sibling had murderous fantasies playing out in the empty theatre he called a brain.
Cho glanced at the boy. “We’ve been expecting you.”
Max twitched when the door closed by itself and made a loud pop. “I didn’t know you were going to be here,” he stammered.
“You owe me a lot of money. I’ve come to collect.”
“What? Hey, what happened ain’t my fault. I was going to come to you. If it wasn’t for these two shitheads —”
“Max, don’t give me excuses.” Cho waved. “I gave you a chance to make right what you did, and look what happened. You betrayed my generosity. I want compensation, in one form or another.”
“Yeh. Let me hav ‘em, boss. I wurk ‘im gud fo ya.” Paz begged.
Max should have thought before speaking, but he could not resist the invitation to mouth off. “Sorry fella, but I’m not looking for a serious relationship right now. But hey, if you ever get tired of tugging on your brother, then maybe I can hook you up with a nice rat hole somewhere.”
The brothers lunged, but Cho stopped them with a gesture. “This has gone on long enough. It’s the end of the line.”
Patti rotated the chair so she could face her guests. “Is this really necessary? I’m sure we can come to a reasonable settlement, so long as we act maturely and discuss this like civilized adults.”
“There’s nothing to discuss. Today was not the first time your ward has cost me money. For the past year alone, he has engaged in side deals without my consent, often in violation of territorial rights. For those infractions, I turned a blind eye out of respect for you, Patti.”
She sat like stone, listening.
“And, what has been my reward? His transgression against Jax damn near started a war.” Cho pounded the air. “I had to pay reparations to that bloated slug personally. Max signed a binding contract to serve off that debt to m
e, but he went behind my back again and blew what should have been a lucrative bounty. You know perfectly well under the Charter I’m within my rights to demand final compensation.”
He placed a holo-emitter on the desk and activated it. The holographic mug shot of Zoe Chacon rotated in front of her. The image with the reward amount broke her granite expression.
“Is this accurate?” She hoped it was a mistake.
“Yes.”
Sipping her drink, she thought over the allegation presented. The Lounge may have been autonomous from Cho’s dirty fingers, but everything else in Brooklyn was under his domain. The Hi-risers who frequented her establishment every night were a boom to his whorehouses and dope dens. Thus, a sympatric relationship was equally advantageous for both of them.
Unfortunately, Max’s wellbeing fell outside that arrangement.
“Yes, you are within your rights. That’s why you should give him another chance to make full restitution.”
“No. No. Out of the question. There will be no more chances. He’s an insolent punk.”
“Yes, very true, but the Charter does give the transgressor the right to make good faith efforts in repaying debts. You can’t seriously expect a boy to square with you so quickly. But, if you insist on being unreasonable and ignoring those rights, then I’m afraid I’ll have to consult with the other bosses on this issue. I think my voice still carries some weight with the Charter.”
That was a chip she never wanted to cash, but she didn’t have a choice. If she couldn’t bargain with Cho, then Max was as good as dead.
The gangster cursed under his breath. Underneath his façade of power, he was a volcano ready to blow. She was right about the Charter of Five’s Bill of Rights. After all, she was the one who drafted the thing. Back in the early days, her guidance helped create a truce between the warring factions. If he clashed with her on this affair, there would be blowback from the other four bosses.
He also cursed his greed. If he had just punished Max for going against Jax, instead of attempting to profit from the boy’s unique talents, then he wouldn’t now have to suffer the shame of backing down before the old woman.
“Of course, you are absolutely right.” He paused as he considered a countermove. “This is my offer; he has to pay me the flat rate of one hundred thousand. He will have until this time next week to get me the money. And, he must swear to stop all his unsanctioned side ventures. If he does this, I’ll consider his debt paid in full. Do I have your word he’ll honor this agreement?”
Max didn’t like the terms one bit. “What the muck? How am I —”
Patti shot her hand up, signaling for him to shut his mouth. “A reasonable compromise,” she contended. “You have his word.”
Max was speechless.
Considering the deal struck and the problem solved, she stood and went to usher out her guests. Cho pocketed the emitter and got up. He straightened his made-to-order suit as his host waited good-naturedly for him at the door.
On his way out, he stopped and respectfully bowed. “Patti, it’s been a pleasure.”
“Likewise. It’s been far too long between visits. Let’s not allow bad business to become the only reason we see each other.”
“Agreed.” Her civility satisfied his honor. He looked at the boy. “You should be grateful. Your mother is as cunning as she is beautiful.”
He exited, expelling smoke to mark his trail. The Vegas followed.
Paz stopped. “Yu an me, pute. Cont on it.”
Max gave him a wink, not allowing the brute his boisterous save-face. Paz stomped away, leaving as the loser — for the time being.
Patti closed the door quick, fearing Cho would change his mind. She didn’t see the deal as an improvement, but it would have to do.
Regardless of her arbitration, Max pouted. “Are you out of your mind? Do you have any idea what he’ll do to me if I don’t get the money?”
“Probably something really bad, I know.” She grabbed his earlobe and tugged on it to the point of almost ripping the fleshy appendage from his head. “What were you thinking, going behind Cho’s back? And, getting mixed up with the Vegas? My God, Max, do you ever mucking think?”
“I was just trying to make some money.”
“Money? Honestly, was it worth almost getting killed?”
“But, I didn’t get killed, did I?”
She released his ear and pulled him into her arms. “I swear you’re going to be the death of me.”
“I’m not a kid, okay,” he said, squirming free. “I wasn’t taking a risk. If those two dinks hadn’t mucked up, then I wouldn’t be in trouble.”
Patti went to her desk and refilled the glass with whiskey from the bottle. In her agitation, she spilled a splash on the polished surface. “Please, promise me you’ll stop with this bounty hunting crap.”
“Hunting is legitimate work.”
“No, it’s not. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“If it’s not, then how come you let the bookies work the pools here?”
“No more running with the hunters! Do you hear me?”
“Then how am I supposed to square with Cho? You haven’t left me with options.”
“I don’t know. If I had the credit, I’d give it to you. But, I don’t. Running the club eats up almost everything.”
He rolled his eyes. “Figures. Funds dry up when I need you.”
“I don’t care what you think. For now, at least you’re safe.” She chugged the drink. “That’s all any mother cares about.”
“Why? You’re not my mother.” He regretted saying it the moment the insensitive words jumped from his mouth.
“Right — what was I thinking?” Patti carefully sat in her chair, hiding the emotional kick to her gut. She twisted around to face the roll of surveillance screens behind her.
His thoughtlessness shocked even him. She could at times be a first-rate tyrant, but he knew deep down she loved him and was just looking out for his welfare. It was easy for him to ignore the stress he put her through and pretend she was the baddie. Well, it was only easy when he didn’t feel like a heartless prick.
He looked at an old framed photograph hanging on the wall. In it, she was dancing on a stage. In her youth she had been a stunning beauty. It never bothered him that in the image she was scantily clad with only two feathery fans to cover her modesty. What attracted him to the picture was her expression of inherent regality. Her confidence made the image a thing of exquisiteness.
He looked at the real her. Gone were her blonde tresses; silver strands had replaced those long ago. Her cheeks no longer had a ruby blush. Now there was a pallor accentuating her wrinkling face. She was timeworn, sitting there in her expensive imported leather chair and drinking her high priced Irish whiskey. She could pretend to enjoy her lavish life, but he saw underneath the veneer. He saw the unhappiness he was responsible for.
A random blip appeared on one of the monitors and she noticed right off. Flicking a switch on the console, the camera zoomed in on the image of Zoe doing a terrible job of going unnoticed.
Patti twisted back to her desk and punched the link box. “Tank?”
He responded, “Yeah?”
“We have an unwanted visitor near the backrooms.”
“No problem. I’ll take care of it.”
“No. Bring her to me.”
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah. You’ll recognize this one. She’s a real pain in the ass.”
“What if she refuses to come quietly?”
“I’m sure you can persuade her.” Patti reclined and rubbed her forehead. She didn’t look at him. “If you would excuse me, I have business to attend to.”
“Hey, I’m sorry about what I —”
“If you don’t mind showing yourself out, I’m busy.”
He was a scolded child again, leaving the room without saying another word.
He waited at the top of the stairs for his lip to stop quivering. Regaining som
e composure, he walked down. Every step felt as if it was his last. A lot had transpired, some of which he refused to accept blame for. None of it bothered him as much as what he said to her.
Zoe watched him from afar, unsure of her next move. The problem — how to approach him. A little over twelve hours earlier, he had a gun in her face. It would be hard for either of them to forget.
Max disappeared into the crowd. While switching spots to find him, a large obstruction lumbered in front of her, blocking the view. She looked up to see Tank brimming from ear to ear. His wide face brought relief to hers.
“You know, you make a better wall than a window.”
He picked her up and she dangled in his thick embrace. “Damn good to see you again, Captain.”
“Ok — ok, you big softie.”
He put her down. Once she regained her steadiness, she gave him a playful punch in the chest, making him wince.
He rubbed the sore and laughed, “Yeah, same old Chica.”
“Let me guess, she sent you to kick me out?”
“No, not this time. She wants to see you. Well, you gonna come quietly or do I have to persuade you?”
She didn’t see Max anywhere. “No, of course not. Okay, let’s not keep her highness waiting. Who knows when this invitation will come again?”
On the opposite corner of the dance floor, Max had seen Tank’s interaction with the woman responsible for his misfortune. It was apparent they were acquainted. What made it worse — they were actually happy to see one another.
What’s going on was his million-mark question.
“Enter!”
Tank escorted the intruder inside. Patti stared at her over the brim of the half-full glass. The other poked her hands inside pockets and stared back.
The growing tension bothered the big guy. “Uh, should I stay?”
Patti shooed him out. He didn’t wait for her to change her mind. Once alone with Zoe, an awkward silence followed. She continued to drink from her glass with her attention fixed on the younger woman.
Zoe waited for her to say something. She finally ended the face-off. “Nice place. You did good for yourself.”
Brigends (The Final War Series Book 1) Page 7