CHAPTER 3
Mason
“So, you’re telling me we’re short?” I grunt at Wagner.
We’re both bending over the papers, but no matter what way you look at it, we’re short. That means someone’s legs might get broken, and for that, I need to be sure whose. Can’t go around breaking innocent legs left and right. Though, few legs are totally innocent in this line of work.
“Adrian and I counted. Twice.”
I sigh. If Wagner says he’s sure, then it’s a sure deal. He’s my right hand man, just like Adrian, and there’s no one else I’d trust with control over my business and the cash flow.
“Fuck,” I grunt again, stepping away from the piles of papers on my desk. “The route was the same?”
I don’t really know why I’m even asking. The route’s been the same for the last few years. We’ve established the path, paid off everyone who needed to be paid off, closed all the eyes, tied all the loose ends. And now, after periods of successful transport, we’re short.
“Pablo swears he sent exactly what we agreed. As always,” Wagner assures me, but I need no reassurance.
Pablo, our contact down South, is trustworthy enough. My father did business with his father, and I value his friendship, because he belongs to the old way of things. His word is his bond. If he says something, then I’m taking it at face value.
“That means someone skimmed off the top along the way somewhere,” I’m thinking out loud here.
I glance over at Wagner. My brother from another mother. My friend and confidant. The three of us started this business. We resurrected this shithole and made it what it is today. A little town with its own set of rules, a town that is off the map, but functions perfectly. We make sure of that every single day. At first, they frowned on our money. Pretending to be all chaste and innocent. Money doesn’t grow on fucking trees. It’s earned with blood and toil. But, eventually, they came around. Once they saw what our money could do for them, for their children. It helps, too, that this little townlet is a hidden gem in the mountains, so we’re safe here. It’s easy to receive all the shipments, and then just send them further on their way.
“Adrian and I could drive to the border. Talk to Alex. He’d know,” Wagner suggests.
“I’d come, too, but I need to sort out the mess over in Little Rock.”
“Adrian and I can handle it, don’t worry.”
I smile at him, squeezing his shoulder with my hand.
“Just be careful, OK?”
“We always are,” he nods, patting me on the back, then leaving.
Once again alone in my office, I sit in my recliner, enjoying the sight from the window. My bike is parked there, in plain sight. Behind it, the view of the mountains spreads out before me, promising the unattainable. I guess that’s what I’m looking for. Something that seems far away, always out of reach. But, with my trusty bike, I’ll always keep searching for it, always keep driving after it.
I finally reach the conclusion that there is no point dwelling on the deficit. Adrian and Wagner would get to the bottom of it. I’m sure. They’d come back in a few days, and if they aren’t bringing the deficit with them, they’d surely have the info on who’s to blame. And, that’s more than I need to settle the score.
So, I jump out of my chair, exit my office and enter straight into the workshop. Even with the doors completely closed, I can still hear the clinking, the clanking, the drills and chatter of my gang. It keeps me going. They keep me going. Alone, I wouldn’t be what I am. I’m myself, because they are around me, they make me their leader with their every action, their every decision.
I see Rock to my right, fixing the exhaust. Thor and Leo are checking the rear shocks. Our bikes always need to be in perfect condition, always ready for a long ride. Because, sometimes, our rides seem endless. So is the work we do.
At that point, I see Toke push the front door open, his hand gripping a kid’s upper arm tightly.
“Let go of me!” the kid kicks and screams, as he’s being brought before me.
I’m slightly amused by what’s happening, waiting for the explanation. Toke shoves the kid with brute force. He’s not used to dealing with kids, obviously. Neither am I, I guess. I watch curiously as the kid rubs his upper arm, but doesn’t say anything. The tips of his fingers are blue, and there is a faint smell of spray paint about him. I bet if I took his backpack and emptied it, there’d be a few spray paint cans still in there. So, the mystery is solved, but let’s make him squirm a little more. I look over at Toke, whose arms are crossed now in the line of his chest. His tattoos are clearly visible. He’s had them ever since I’ve known him, and he keeps adding more to the collection.
“So, what’s with the kid?” I ask, and everyone around me stops working on their bikes. They’re as amused as I am probably.
We’re not used to having kids around here. Sure, they dare one another occasionally to prank us in one way or another, but that was before. I thought they got tired of it. That suited everyone. Whoever this kid is, he must be new in town and doesn’t know whose property he found himself on.
“The little shit spray painted the back wall,” Toke moaned. “He even got some on my fuckin’ bike!”
I want to smile, but I don’t. Either kid’s got balls or he has no idea where he is. Either way, he should be taught a lesson.
“What’s your name, kid?” I ask, eyeing him from head to toe.
Disheveled hair. T-shirt with Led Zeppelin on it. Pair of worn out jeans. Converse sneakers so old you’d think Chuck Taylor played basketball in those. I give him a second, but he doesn’t reply. So, Toke slaps him on the back of the head, and the kid almost flops forward, to the ground.
“Answer the question, you little shit!” Toke shouts.
“Why don’t you go check on Adrian?” I tell him.
He frowns. I guess he wants to see what I’d do with the kid, but I still don’t know that myself.
“Now, Toke,” I repeat.
“Sure,” he murmurs, then leaves.
“You wanna tell me your name now?” I ask the kid again.
“Dom,” he whispers. “Dominick.”
“Alright, Dom-Dominick,” I reply, and a few guys around me chuckle. “You wanna tell me why Toke was all pissed at you?”
Dominick lifts his head, and I notice blue on his forehead, too. So, he’s been busy. I wonder what that wall looks like. I just hope I don’t have a blue dick on my back wall.
“Actually, I have a better idea,” it hits me suddenly. “Why don’t you go show me what you did instead?”
Everyone’s face suddenly turns grave, and I know what they’re thinking. The boy obviously thinks it at the same time, as his face darkens and turns pale.
“Don’t worry, I won’t kill you and throw your body in a ditch somewhere,” I reply, laughing. “Well, actually, that depends on what you spray painted on my wall.”
I stare him down, and if he had any balls before, they are all gone now. He’s just a kid who wants to go home, to his mom and dad. A part of me wants to remember that feeling, but I can’t. Its tough when your dad was always gone, on some shady business, and your mom disappeared with the first guy who offered her a ride. Still, my dad did the best that he could, under the circumstances. That’s gotta count for something.
“Come on,” I tell him, as my hand gently falls on his shoulder.
We walk over to the back wall, and he stops first, his eyes looking down. The back wall’s always been shitty. Paint peeling everywhere, even rats started gnawing on the corners. You can never get fully rid of that vermin. I keep telling Wagner to get it in line, but I guess there’s always something more important to take care of.
I walk over to the wall, inspecting it. It’s not a dick. It’s not even some shitty graffiti writing, which no one can read. It’s a man’s face, with curly hair and a moustache, and there is a raven perched on his shoulder. I see he started writing something too, but I can read only the first word. Suddenly, I burst out into laughter. He looks up, surprised.
“I thought I’d see a dick,” I reply, still laughing. “But, this shit right here is art.”
“So, I’m off the hook?” Dominick replies, and I start laughing even more.
“Fat chance, kid,” I shake my head. “I just won’t kill you and throw your body in a ditch somewhere. But, I will talk to your parents.”
“Can’t I just pay you for the wall?” Dominick whined, his eyes ready to tear up. So, the punishment doesn’t scare him, but his parents do. That’s good to know. “Or paint it?” he adds.
“You know what?” I eye him. “That’s actually a great idea. I need this shit painted and I need it like yesterday. My boys have no time. So, you can do it for me. Think of it as payback.”
“And, you’ll keep my mom out of it?”
“You’re quite the joker, you know that?” I grin. “I’m taking you home.”