Urban Renewal (11 page)

“
WHY DID
you—?”

“Because the grand isn’t all we got,” Harold cut off his twin.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. See, if Cross didn’t think we were coming to him straight, he wouldn’t have paid us a dime.”

“So?”

“So Cross, that’s a man you never want thinking you’re not playing straight with him. You remember that little guy? The one who took us over?”

“Sure.”

“That’s got to be Buddha.”

“Who?”

“One of that crew. I heard he once won a ten-thousand-dollar
bet from some sucker who thought no way a man could ever
shoot
a damn bumblebee at twenty feet. Hell, you can’t hardly
see
one at that distance.”

“And he did that?”

“With a
pistol
! That’s what people say.”

“Real people?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Damn.”

“I know. I just wish
we
knew someone who wanted that pretty boy killed. He’s as good as dead anyway.”

“I guess,” Howard replied, already back to his normal state: total indifference to anything except a threat or a target.

“
YOU THINKING
what I’m thinking, boss?”

“It was a mistake to bring So Long back with you?”

“Hey, brother! There’s no reason to be banging on me. Anyway, we haven’t laid out dime one, so why even go there?”

“You’re right, Buddha. Sorry.”

“Huh!” the pudgy man sniffed, brushing aside an empty apology for something that hadn’t remotely offended him in the first place. “What I was thinking was, if that new girl at the Double-X, if she wanted her problem taken care of …”

“Because we got no choice anyway.”

“That’s how I see it. You?”

“Yeah. He’s crazy enough to try and hire the Motley Twins, he keeps on trying, he’s gonna find someone crazy enough to take the job.”

“So? Only place he knows to come is the club. He shows up, we just—”

“Wait! Hold up, brother. Your idea, it’s actually not a bad one. Not at all.”

“I thought you said—”

“Money’s money, right? So, if that bottom feeder
has
some, why shouldn’t
we
get it?”

JEAN-BAPTISTE DRESSED
carefully, checking his reflection in the three-panel mirror he’d told Ronni she needed to have. “You got to be able to see what
they
gonna see, baby. Always keep your edge.”

Oh, he looked
fine
. Not flashy, not like some pimp on the prowl, more like a successful businessman out for a little fun.

And he was every bit of that.
All
that.

Jean-Baptiste pulled his custom ride inside the chain-link fence surrounding the Double-X. As he knew from his previous visit, the gate would swing open automatically as a car approached.

He braked to a stop just past the front entrance. The Maori known as K-1 to distinguish him from his look-alike cousin, K-2, moved as slowly as a man slogging through quicksand, but he somehow managed to block the car from proceeding any farther.

“Valet parking only, sir.”

If the man at the door recognized J.B., he gave no sign. J.B. palmed him a fifty, said, “A single, okay?”

In unspoken acknowledgement of the driver’s bribe-request to park the Lexus where it would be in no danger of being dinged, the doorman pointed to his right. J.B. walked toward one of the few unoccupied single tables in the place.
But before he reached his destination, he felt a … presence of some kind behind him, herding him toward a larger table, using the air compressed between them as a push bar.

Some dark figure pulled out a chair, and J.B. found himself seated across from a man with unremarkable features. On his right, a real-life Indian. Like an Apache or something. On his left, a pudgy man with dark hair and darker eyes.

An instinct he trusted told him not to look around. He watched as the man facing him opened his left hand. A small flame leaped from that hand to the cigarette in his right. As he lit the smoke, J.B. noted the bull’s-eye tattoo on the back of the man’s hand.

In a voice as unremarkable as his facial features, the man said, “She’ll be coming on soon. Working the pole first. The lighting in here—I can see her, she can’t see me. That’s the way we set it up.”

“I don’t know—”

“Don’t be stupid,” the man said. “You’re here for Taylor. She cleaned you out. Told every girl in the place a couple of nights ago. So you need to do something to keep your face. And you need to come here to do it.”

“Bitches run their mouths, so what?”

“So this: When she finishes her set, she goes back to the dressing room. For the right price, she never gets there. Never comes back.”

“What about my stuff?”

“It’s in a storage unit. You got the coin, you get the key.”

“How do I know this is all legit?”

“Two reasons: One, you tried to hire the Motley Twins, but they know better than to touch anyone who works here.
Two, you come back here tomorrow night, that girl won’t be here. You have my personal guarantee—you are never going to see Taylor on that stage again.”

“What’s that’s supposed to mean, your ‘guarantee’?”

“Think about it for a second. The Motley Twins turned you down, am I right? Everyone knows those two psychos would hit the Pope on St. Patrick’s Day if they got paid. So I figure they probably said something about Red 71.”

“Yeah …”

“And you didn’t have a clue. Not your line of work. When you want something done, you
pay
people to do it for you, whether it’s shining your shoes or sending a message.”

“Now,
that’s
true.”

“Well, what else are we talking about here? You got a gun on you?”

“No, man. I don’t mess with—”

“All right. You can rent one from us. Cost you five bills. You take the pistol, walk on back, shoot the bitch in the head, walk back out here, hand over the piece, and keep on walking.”

“In front of all those—?”

“Why not? If anything, it’ll just make you look even bigger. Nobody’s going to talk. Nobody wants to be a witness. We’ll throw in the body disposal, no charge.”

Jean-Baptiste was tempted. But, this time, what he’d been taught overcame his ego.

“How much for me to walk out now?”

“Still five. Only five
large
. I know you paid more than that just for the suit you’re wearing. So …?”

LESS THAN
an hour passed.

“Thirty-five and change!” Buddha gloated. “Didn’t I say this was a beautiful idea?”

“He had that much left?”

“About ten on him, and twenty-five in a hideaway behind the glove box.”

“I guess you never know,” Cross said, his tone indicating that at least one person did. “Go back and find Arabella, you mind?”

“
WHAT
’
S UP?
”
Arabella asked Cross, who was seated in his usual triangle spot.

“Your new girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend.”

“That boy’s nothing.”

“His money’s just as good as anyone else’s.”

“Meaning …?”

“Meaning he’s putting out a contract on Taylor. Ten for a kill, double that for a splatter.”

“A contract with who?”

“With the first person to snatch the offer.”

“So you’re saying …?”

“You know what I’m saying, Arabella. You think wearing that little schoolgirl outfit is going to stun me blind? You’ve got an angel’s face, and a scheming heart. The way you played this, Taylor’s
got
to be living with you. No way she ever had a good experience with
any
man, so …”

“Who said that about me? Some dyke at Orchid Blue? Maybe your little pal, that crazy Tiger?”

“What’s it matter? True is true. And something else is
true, too. Taylor’s apartment was cleaned
out
. Wall to wall. Not just her stuff—his, too. All sitting in some big storage unit.”

“So?” Arabella pouted.

“So
his
stuff, nobody’s gone through it. And there’s money in there, somewhere.”

“And you want what?”

“Stop playing, Arabella. I look like a mark to you? You think I don’t already know where the storage unit is? Whose men did that work, anyway?”

“So you could just go and take it, that’s what you’re telling me?”

“No. I’m giving you another chance to come to her rescue. Figure an easy ten to take him out. Maybe twice that, depending. You know he was here, earlier. What do you think he was here
for
, a lap dance?”

“He wanted to hire
your
people?”

“Yep.”

“Oh.”

“You just tell Taylor the truth. Believe it or not, that actually works, sometimes. There’s only one way out for her now. We take the unit. You never go back there. The rent’s paid out ninety days. You just let it go. The contents, that’s a gamble. But I’ll gamble on him having something worthwhile stashed there. And he’ll never be a problem for Taylor, never again.”

“You’re going to—”

“That’s enough. You’re going back there and telling Taylor you just saved her ass
again
. For that, she should be letting you play with it a little.”

“That’s cold, Cross. Even for you.”

“You ever hear anyone say, ‘Okay, I’m going to give you the warm, soft facts,’ Arabella?”