Enforcer: A Prequel Novella to the New Mafia Trilogy (9 page)

          “Just take it.” I curled her fingers over the
money. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She was shaking her head when I pulled away, but I saw her tuck
the bill into her bra before she and Chelsea started walking towards the dorm.
My mom questioned me a lot about my increased cash flow, yet Natalie had never once
asked me about it, but I knew she wanted to. I had a feeling that one day soon
her curiosity was going to win out and I’d to have to lie to her face instead of
all of this lying by omission shit.

Joey still hadn’t heard from anyone so we headed back over
to Mike’s neighborhood. Our parking spot from earlier was taken and we had to
park further down on his street, but close enough to still watch his apartment.

          “You’re sister isn’t nearly as bad as mine,” Joey
said out of nowhere, breaking the silence that had filled the car.

          “Nat’s alright, she hasn’t had it easy and tends
to act out. I know I should be there for her more.”

          “Dude, she’s gonna to do what she wants to do. She
needs to wisen up about city livin’ though.”

          “Yeah, I know.” I leaned my head back against the
head rest and briefly closed my eyes; the past 24-hours hitting me hard.

          “Does she know what you do for Marco?”

          “Fuck no.”

          “How long do you think you can keep that secret?”

          “As long as fucking possible,” I said, turning to
look at Joey. “Nobody tells her, got it?”

Joey puts his hands up in front of him. “Hey man, you’re the
boss. I won’t say shit.”

The tension building between us was broken when Joey’s phone
rang. He quickly answered it and after the briefest conversation full of one
word responses, hung up.

          “Mike’s been spotted over at that new club that
opened tonight.”

          “Lust?”

          “Yeah that’s the place and get this,” he paused.
“He’s sitting in VIP.”

          “Is he now? Who gave you the intel?”

Joey shifted in his seat, causing the car to rock slightly.
“Cici. I texted her to keep an eye out and she spotted him. She’s going to keep
him occupied until we get there.”

My hand closed into a tight fist and I fought the urge to
punch him. “This business shouldn’t involve your sister,” I said through
gritted teeth. I would never involve Natalie, no matter what, and wanted her as
far away from this life as possible. I took a couple deep breathes to calm down
and started the car.

The next few minutes were uncomfortably quiet. As I turned
onto the street where Lust was located, I slowed down and pulled over to the
curb in front of a fire hydrant before reaching the line of cars waiting for
valet.

          “Look, it’s done okay? Cici came through for us,
but next time, don’t get her involved.”

          “It’s no big deal, Ross. Sometimes chicks come in
handy and help get shit done. They’re not out whacking people, but they can
have their uses.”

I knew this about the organization, but didn’t like that the
tasks usually involved women using their bodies to get shit done. This was yet
another difference between Miranda and her best friend. Miranda was using her
mind to contribute where she could, not her body.

          “Like I said, it’s done. We’re going to go in
there and tell Mike there’s an emergency and Marco needs his help.” Joey nodded
in agreement with my plan. We didn’t want to create a scene in front of a club
full of witnesses. We’d extricate Mike and take him straight to the plant. Once
he was in my car, he’d be easy to secure when he realized where we were going.

We left the car with valet and completely bypassed the line
wrapped around the corner of the club, walking right up to the bouncer working
the entrance. I recognized him from other establishments around the city and he
recognized us too, his eyes widening when we approached.

          “What are you guys doing here?”

          “And not at Crimson?” I asked.

          “Well, yeah.”

          “It’s closed for refurbishing. We had a leak that
caused some damage.” I watched him closely to gage his reaction. He shrugged,
his big shoulders practically swallowing up his ears in the process, before
unclipping the velvet rope and letting us in.

          “If you’re looking for your boy, he’s in VIP. He’s
pretty fucked up and about ready to get bounced.”

          “We’ll take care of him,” I promised.

Entering Lust was like walking into a cave. It was dark with
just enough dim lighting to see two feet in front of me. The fog machines were
working overtime to create a hazy atmosphere. Low, pulsating trance music
filled the air and added to the vibe. Male and female dancers, naked save for
scraps of clothing, were grinding together on elevated platforms throughout the
club. Some of the dancing couples were men on men and women on women. We passed
one stage where a man was strapped to a bed and a dominatrix struck him with a
whip. It was all for show, but a crowd had gathered and seemed entranced in the
performance. There was a darker element here. Where Crimson offered a more
traditional club experience, this place focused on the forbidden. Everything
about Lust reeked of taboo.

Marco hadn’t appeared concerned about Lust opening, but as I
looked around the packed club, I recognized several regulars from Crimson, and
hoped that it was only the newness of the place that attracted them and that we
didn’t lose business; just being forced to close this one Saturday probably
lost us close to ten grand in revenue.

Pushing our way through the crowds of people sticky with
sweat and humidity, we made our way to the back of the club to an all glass
elevator that went to the upper level. Taking architectural cues from old
theaters and stadiums, VIP boxes provided extreme privacy and an aerial view of
the chaos below. Another bouncer I recognized from service industry nights was
standing in front of the elevator. He had a Bluetooth device in his ear and a
taser clipped to his belt.

          “Hey Stu, we need to go get Mike,” I said, talking
loudly to be heard above the music.

He pressed the up button on the elevator and the doors slid
open. “He’s in the Lux box. Take a right out of the elevator and it’s the third
door on the right.”

          “Thanks.” Joey and I got on the elevator, which
shot quickly up to the next level. We stepped out onto thick black carpet. The
hallway walls were lined with black velvet, muffling music from downstairs.
Wall sconces, mimicking the flicker of gas lanterns, were spaced intermittently
on each side of the hallway. “Lux” was written on the front of door number
three with silver metallic paint that had a dull shine in the limited light.

I knocked on the door and seconds later it swung open. Yet
another bouncer stood in the doorway. He gave us a once over before stepping
aside, allowing us to enter. A copper counter ran the length of a tinted window
that made up the entire front wall. Below, club goers danced and moved about
seemingly unaware of being watched from above. A row of unoccupied stools were
lined up underneath the counter.

All of the action was happening where low sofas and large
floor pillows filled up the middle of the room.  Mike sat on one of the sofas
with Cici on his lap. She had her arm around his shoulders and his tattooed arm
was slung around her waist, covering a strip of skin her short top revealed. Several
other people sat around them and lounged on pillows surrounding a custom built
coffee table that was also low to the ground. The centerpiece was a hookah and
it was well used. Skunk smelling smoke hung heavy in the air.

          “Cici what the fuck are you doing?” Joey asked,
moving forward and lifting her off of Mike’s lap effortlessly, like she weighed
less than a sack of potatoes. 

          “Jesus Christ, Joey, put me down!” She kicked out,
barely missing a bottle of Prosecco that was on the table next to the hookah. Joey
set her down and she turned around, tilting her head up to glare at him.
“You’re such an asshole,” she said before stalking off and taking up residence
on one of the bar stools with her back facing us.

          “Hey man, Cici and I were just chilling,” Mike
said, his eyes darting between Joey and me. He licked his lips and sat up
straight.

          “Don’t worry about it. She does what she wants,”
Joey grumbled, crossing his arms over his barrel chest and casting a glare in
his sister’s direction. I tried not to laugh because Joey had put her up to it
in order to keep Mike “occupied”. Maybe he didn’t literally mean to sit on the
guy, but…

          “So what are you guys doing here?”

          “Marco needs your help with the shit that went
down at Crimson. We tried calling, but your phone went right to voicemail.”

          “Yeah, I got this crazy bitch who keeps calling. I
fucked her a couple weeks back and now she’s hot for my junk. I have to get a
new number. You know how it goes.” He let out a nervous laugh. “So, uh, you
know who trashed Crimson?” He licked his lips again and only met my eyes
briefly.

          “We do and need your particular skill set.” Not
only was Mike a decent MMA fighter who was known for having a scrappy,
never-back-down style, but he spent some time in juvie for stealing cars and
knew his way around locks. Let him think what he wanted, I was stroking his ego
and playing it cool. It worked as Mike relaxed a bit and leaned forward, resting
his elbows on his knees. I saw ‘love’ tattooed across the knuckles on his left
hand and the incriminating ‘pain’ tattoo on his right hand. It was exactly the
one caught on camera.

          “Let’s do this then.” He stood up and stumbled
when he took his first steps, swaying slightly before righting himself.

          “Ya alright, man?” I asked.

          “Yeah, I’m good.”

          “You didn’t drive here did you?”

          “Nah, I cabbed it. Can I catch a ride with you
guys?”

Even better, I thought to myself. Gesturing towards the
empty bottles and shot glasses on the table, I asked, “You need to take care of
your tab before we bounce?”

          “Nope, it’s on the house tonight.”

Mike was walking in front of us so he didn’t see the look
Joey and I exchanged.

***

When we didn’t turn in the direction of Crimson, Mike was
too busy talking to us to notice. He was in that state of drunkenness where he
rambled on and every other word was unintelligible.

          “Man, I gotta piss, we’re not there yet?” The
latter part of his question tapered off as he looked out the window at graffiti
covered walls as we sped down Columbus Boulevard toward the former Philadelphia
Electric Company’s Delaware Generating Station, a hulking shell of an
industrial era that loomed on the banks of the Delaware River. “What the fuck?”

          “Marco wants to have a chat,” I said, staring Mike
down in the rear view mirror.

          “About what? I didn’t do nothing.” His tone was
sulky and defensive.

          “Don’t fucking lie,” Joey interjected, surprising
me since he usually let me do all of the talking. “We saw you on the
surveillance footage.”

          “Wh- what are you talking about?”

Joey pivoted to face the backseat and snatched Mike’s right
wrist. “Your tattoo dickhead,” he said, turning Mike’s hand, putting the ink on
display.

Sweat broke out across Mike’s forehead and it glistened in
the glow of the dashboard lights. He swallowed hard and started shaking so much
that Joey’s body was practically vibrating. One of Philly’s toughest MMA
fighters was reduced to terror at the prospect of meeting Marco. He had every
reason to be afraid, I didn’t know of anyone who survived a meeting held at the
old power plant.

The drunk security guard waved us through and shut the
rusted gate behind my car. He had been on Marco’s payroll for a while, which
made coming and going a lot easier. The parking lot asphalt was soft in some
spots and missing in others. The lines for parking spaces had faded long ago.
In the distance, lights illuminated a bank of generators still in operation by
the energy company that owned the property. The hulking, museum-like main
building made of was abandoned and had been for over twenty years. With the
moon overhead the dozen or so corroding stacks reaching up to the starless sky
reminded me of a scene from a post-apocalyptic movie.

There were three cars parked in the shadows of the building,
Marco’s Cadillac was one of them. Joey had texted him once we located Mike so
it wasn’t a surprise that he was already here and waiting. At the sight of
Marco’s car, Mike really started to lose his shit.

          “Please Grant, we’re friends. I don’t understand.”

          “We are not friends. You work for me and we both
work for Marco. Did you really think you’d get away with it?”

Mike then tried to plead with Joey, but didn’t get anywhere.
Instead Joey latched onto Mike’s arm and hauled him through the wide doorway
into the deteriorating building. I followed behind and closed the door. It was
dark and damp inside, the power had been cut off a long time ago. Things
scurried, invisible in the darkness only their little claws were heard scratching
on concrete floors. The sound of water dripping echoed throughout the cavernous
room. Joey kept his hold on a struggling Mike while we stayed in one place
getting our bearings. I caught glimpses of the moon through one of many holes
in the roof where skylights used to be. I pulled out my cell phone and used the
flashlight app to navigate our way to the stairs, passing large puddles of
standing water. Holding onto the iron railing, we slowly made our way down. The
concrete stairs had started to crumble and large sections were missing where interior
wire mesh was exposed, partially eroded and rusted to a deep orange. Spider
webs brushed against my face and the cloying stench of mold mixed with ancient
engine grease grew worse as we continued our descent into the bowels of the
building.