4
I sat behind the lavish desk in the boss’ office above The Savile Gentlemen’s Club, where I oversaw the legal and illegal business until Mik got out. Even though I was eager for Mikky to retake the reins, I will miss this office and desk and drinking his Scotch whiskey.
This sort of wealth was foreign to me when Mr. Kaiser recruited me into his business as a minion at first. Still, I demonstrated my loyalty and performance, and eventually became his confidant, along with his son, Gunner, and his nephew, Mikael.
It was a privilege to be part of the Kaiser family, but being an outsider, I had to earn their trust and work my ass off to prove to them that I was worthy. My life had improved substantially because of their generosity, and I never thought I’d go to college. But that was the deal. Mr. Kaiser and Mikael wanted me to go to college, get an education, and study business to bring a fresh perspective into the industry.
But I still couldn’t get used to the wads of cash thrown about on pleasurable pursuits - purchasing the latest model Rolls Royce or Mercedes Benz without a blink of an eye and buying land and property with little consideration. However, Mikky was brilliant at bartering the price, mainly when our syndicate drove out our enemies and bought several ventures at a lower price, including The Savile Gentlemen’s Club.
“Have you found the Annika?” was often Mik's first question during my weekly business meeting with him in Gothenburg Prison.
And every answer I gave him was, “Not yet.”
Now and again, we’d get a lead, a rumor, a suspected sighting, or someone’s hunch. Once we followed that lead, we’d slam into a wall, and I’d return to see Mik in prison to tell him the bad news.
That’s why I took little interest in Gunner’s latest obsession, as he’s done this several times before. He spotted some chick from afar who flicked her hair or smiled like his foster sister, and then he’d start stalking her until he’d found out the truth or the girl had a restraining order placed against him. Admittedly, the restraining order happened only once, and then he moved here to Gothenburg and forgot about her.
I don’t remember Annika Kaiser that well, mostly because she’s the boss’s adopted daughter and Mik’s foster cousin, and averting my eye whenever she was near was wise. Besides, it wasn’t my job to pay her any attention, and all of my meetings with Mik and the boss were in the office in Larsson, where we once lived and still claimed the territory, so I rarely saw her anyway.
The accountant was right on time when I heard the nervous knock at the office door. The arrangement was that he brought the books over himself, and not a single set of eyes or pair of hands went near these books, apart from him, myself, and Mikael.
“Anything we should be wary of?” I asked Jacobson in his swanky suit, which we paid for.
“No, it’s all up to date and balanced,” he answered, distracted by a scratching sound coming from the bathroom. “And when will Mr. Kaiser be returning?”
“In two days,” I replied, flipping the pages over and running my eye down the columns of numbers, searching for anything awry. “I’ll take a deeper look at these when you’re gone, but where are the soft copies?”
“Oh, yes, sorry,” he scrambled anxiously to find the USB stick in his leather satchel and placed it on the desk.
“And no one else has looked over these?” I pressed just to ensure he knew who the boss was.
“Not a soul, except me,” he replied, glancing again at the scratching sound from the bathroom.
“Okay, good. You can leave,” I asserted, pointing to the door.
As Jacobson left, Freddie, the bar and burlesque manager, poked his head into the office. “We’re down two girls.”
Staff matters was a stress I had no interest in, but if men are coming to the club to pay money to the girls to flirt their asses off and spin the wheel, then we need the girls to turn up.
“Hang on,” I halted Freddie as I strolled casually to the bathroom door and flung it open to find a girl on the floor, cooked out of her brains, tracks down her arms. “Is she one of yours?”
Freddie peered at the hot mess on the floor and gritted his teeth. “Yup, that’s Candy. One of the better moneymakers.”
“Well, she’s not bringing in the money now,” I snarled, grabbing her thin arm and pulling her to her feet. “How did you get in here?”
She was spaced out, barely awake, as her eyes rolled about in her head, and she only managed to moan an answer.
“Freddie, where the fuck is she getting the needles from? There better not be any dealing on the floor?” I stated accusingly. Freddie adhered to our high standards, but many of the girls hired were already a lost cause and put up a good image when interviewed for the job.
“Jeez, Mr. Bryne, how the fuck did she get in here?” he repeated my question.
“Get her into a fucking rehab, Freddie,” I instructed. “Don’t tell her to come back until she’s clean. And fuck, Freddie, make sure the club is spotless for when Mikky returns, alright? Because you know he hates drugs in the house more than I do.”
“Right on, Mr. Bryne, but I swear I never knew she was in here,” he mumbled, dragging her rubbery body to the door. “Get Betty to call some girls in to do an extra shift, would ya.”
“Alright, Ronan,” he agreed. “Betty will know what to do with Candy, too. But we need to advertise for more staff.”
“For what?” I asked evenly.
“A kitchenhand quit, and a dealer left on maternity leave,” he explained as Candy’s legs gave way, and luckily, Freddie caught her before she landed.
“Fine, and advertise for two more dancers, as well, Freddie,” I ordered. “And…to avoid this becoming a regular occurrence,” pointing my chin at Candy, “start mandatory drug testing weekly rather than monthly to weed out the gold from the crap.”
“I’m on to it, Ronan,” he agreed.
“Good,” I said, locking the door behind him.
I waited until it was quiet before flicking the switch that opened the bookshelf, a hidden door that covered the safe. I punched my code into the safe, placed the books and USB inside, and shut it up again.
When I sat back at the desk, I felt something in my pocket and pulled out the keycard copy for that poor girl’s room that Gunner was convinced was Annika Kaiser. Fuck, Gunner needed to get a new hobby rather than harassing unsuspecting college girls.
When I relaxed back in the chair, I wondered again how the fuck Candy got in there. This office was locked 2/7, and only Gunner and I could access it, so I left my office to catch up with Freddie dragging the crackhead down the stairs because the dinner girl and her trolley were using the elevator.
“Freddie,” I called after him at the bottom of the stairs. “Ask the girl how she got into the office.”
He shook her to break her out of her drug-induced doziness. “Candy. Candy, how did you get into the office?”
She murmured something I didn’t catch. “She said it was unlocked.”
“Unlocked? How?” I was perturbed and pissed off.
“Maybe Gunner left it unlocked,” Freddie told me.
“Gunner? When was he here?”
“Er, this morning, he said he came to get something. Didn’t say what,” Freddie explained.
“Alright, thanks.”
As soon as I’d locked myself back in the office again, I swiped for Gunner’s number.
“Sup,” he answered after three rings.
“Did you come down to the club today?” I asked him.
“Yeah, why?”
“You left the door unlocked,” I accused him. “You know we never leave the fucking door unlocked.”
“Bro, it wasn’t me. Besides, it self-locks when you leave,” he pointed out correctly.
“Only if the lock is turned. How did Candy get in here?” I argued smoothly, never raising my voice.
“Fuck knows,” he retorted. “I wouldn’t know Candy in a lineup. You tell me. Maybe she was hoping you’d strum her banjo.”
“Forget it,” I cringed at the thought of seeing Candy’s banjo, let alone strumming it. “Anyway, what did you come down here for?”
“Bugs,” he responded straight up.
I groaned. “For the girl? You want to bug the girl’s room?”
“But I need the keycard to get back in,” he specified. “Have you still got it?”
“Yeah,” I sighed. “Gunner, you need to stop this shit. It’s fucking obsessive.”
“I’m sure it’s her, Ronan,” he wielded with conviction. “I swear, it’s her.”
“Look, let’s make a deal,” I reconciled. “You give me more evidence that girl-”
“Riley laws,” he educated me, not that I care what her name is.
“Fine. Riley Laws,” I sucked in my breath. “You give me irrefutable evidence that girl is Annika, and then I’ll give you the keycard copy back, so you can bug her room and wank off as much as you like. Deal?”
“What other evidence can I give you? Apart from my experience of living with her for eight years, Eight years, man. Eight fucking years,” his argument was lost under his one-eyed obsessiveness, but I understand his pain and anger at being betrayed by that little bitch. “She’s practically my sister.”
“That’s the deal, Gunner. Give me more evidence, and I’ll give you the keycard back,” I asserted, refusing to budge. “Deal or no deal.”
“But that’s why I want to plant the listening devices in her room, maybe access her phone, and plant a bug in there,” he argued like a Pitbull terrier with a stick. No matter how much you try to divert his attention, he won't drop it.
“That’s the deal, Gunner. You give me a reason to have her room bugged, and I’ll give you the keycard back,” I asserted, putting my foot down.
“I just want her to be found for when Mikael returns,” he tried to convince me.
It was never about Mikael; it was always about how much Gunner was blindsided and deceived, and it hurt him like hell.
When we found out it was Annika who screwed us over, Gunner fell into an ominous place and started self-harming, then disappeared, and it took three days to find him. Part of me wished we’d never find Annika again and that she’d fallen off the face of the earth, but Gunner saw her everywhere.
Every girl looked like her. Every girl’s voice sounded like her.
I exhaled, “Yeah, I know. But you might have to surrender to the fact that she’s not around anymore. I mean…it’s a huge country to hide in and an even bigger world. We have no idea if she’s still in the States.”
He fell quiet on the line, hating every word I was telling him, but someone had to say it.
I continued, “Gunner, you seriously need to calm the shit down and get yourself a nice, lil girlfriend that has a hot body and cool head and forget about Annika Kaiser.”
There were several beats of silence before he snapped, “Fine.”
“Fine? Are you going to move past this Annika shit?” I questioned because I didn’t entirely believe him.
“Fuck no,” he snarled down the line, and I had to stop myself from laughing at his stubbornness. Fucking thick-necked bull. “I’m still going to try and find her. I said ‘fine’ to the deal. I will find evidence that Riley Laws is Annika so that you can give me back the keycard.”
“Alright, bro, it’s your life. Just a pity you’re wasting it on delusions and hunches over some piece of shit, girl.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, “Like you said…it’s my life.”