39. Lev
Chapter 39
Lev
T he Bald Pelt is a rundown strip club in a formerly industrial part of the city. This area’s all warehouses and business parks, and I get the feel that the Pelt is a sort of informal home base for Olivier.
“The truck depot’s not far from here,” Simon explains as Olivier greets every half-naked waitress by name and orders expensive alcohol on my tab. “Some of the boys like to come after their shifts and see the girls.” He doesn’t seem happy about the idea. I wonder what his wife would say to all that.
“Let’s see some tits, eh?” Olivier seems like he’s in his element as he posts up beside the stage while a bored-looking brunette girl gyrates around a pole. He hoots and shouts at her in French and shoves singles into her G-string.
The whole scene’s skeevy. Olivier clearly isn’t interested in talking business tonight. I’m paying, which means he’s going to wring me fucking dry.
At least Simon’s holding back. He’s watching his boss with a mixture of disdain, especially when Olivier uses his teeth and tongue to shove more bills into a new dancer’s thong.
“How many kids do you have?” I ask Simon, and he tells me a bit about his family. An older daughter from a previous marriage and two young sons, the second barely past two.
“Never thought I’d be a father again in my forties,” he admits. “But Isabella’s only twenty-nine and she wanted kids.”
“Good for you,” I murmur.
He grins crookedly while Olivier gets a lap dance. He’s loudly shouting at the woman and raining more money on her. The bouncers are watching with annoyed expressions, and I get the feeling he’d be out of here if he weren’t such a loyal customer.
“Izzy’s a good woman. Hates it when I come here though. Can’t blame her though.”
“Your boss in here a lot?”
“Every night, at least when he’s got money. There’s a reason why he’s always got a new girlfriend every week. Most can’t stand him for long.”
“Seems like you two have very different personal lives.”
Simon gives me a hard look. “But we’re aligned when it comes to business, and that’s what matters.”
I nod and let the topic drop. Olivier drinks more, flirts with strippers more, and even goes back for another lap dance in the private rooms, all funded by my credit card and my wads of cash.
Meanwhile, I’m stuck with Simon. He tells me about his oldest daughter and how she wants to go to a private college, but tuition is obscenely expensive, and she didn’t get any scholarship money. Housing in Canada’s a nightmare too, so forget about finding a cheap apartment to keep her in, which means room and board on campus.
On and on like that for over an hour. The more Simon talks, the more I start to understand his dynamic with Olivier. The stocky leader’s an outgoing psychopath with enormous appetites, while Simon’s the more conservative brains behind the operation. Olivier takes the risks; Simon runs the books. They’ve been working together for years.
Except Simon grew up. He got a wife and kids. While Olivier was boozing, whoring, and getting in petty fights, Simon was investing in retirement funds and looking into expanding their legitimate operations.
I catch myself looking at my phone more than once, checking to see if there’s a message from Carmie. Simon must notice too after the fourth or fifth time, and he’s smirking at me over his third whiskey, buzzed but nowhere near as shit-faced drunk as obnoxious fucking Olivier.
“You and that wife of yours are happy, eh? It’s not common in our line of work.”
“I think you could say that.”
“How did you meet?”
“We were an arrangement.”
His eyebrows raise. “Wow. People still do that?”
“Sometimes. If they have to.”
“Must’ve been a nice surprise to see her that first day then, eh?”
“You have no idea.” I smile slightly at the memory of Carmie in her wedding dress. I hated her and loathed what we were doing, but my god, she was radiant.
“We’ve got that much in common. I almost gave up on finding a good partner until I met Isabella. We bumped into each other by chance at a bar, got to talking, and now here we are, hitched and with babies. Funny how life is, yes?”
Olivier appears at the table just then and slams his fists down, practically frothing at the mouth. “That whore just sucked me off for fifty dollars. Canadian dollars, too. My god, what a good woman. I need more money, Lev. I need her again.”
Simon grimaces. “You know they’re going to talk about this. Amelia’s going to hear.”
“Amelia? Fuck her. She’s nothing to me.” Olivier stares into my eyes, deranged and sweaty, his ruddy face pink. “Money now, please. Then maybe if I’m nice and satisfied by this worthless whore, we’ll talk business later.”
I toss him a stack of hundreds. “Enjoy.”
He shouts a loud laugh and storms back into the private room. Simon’s watching him go, and for a moment, there’s true loathing in his eyes.
I let the moment pass and ask him more questions about his kids.
Olivier doesn’t emerge for another hour. This time, he’s practically staggering, and I don’t even bother asking for change. Simon helps him out the back door. We emerge into the night in a dank, empty alley. Clouds cover the moon and our footsteps are muted by the close brick walls. I shrug on a light jacket and tug on a pair of thick leather gloves.
“Fuck, hold on,” Olivier groans and says something in French. Simon pushes him away and the stocky man leans up against the wall with one hand and starts pissing all over the ground.
Simon looks disgusted as he walks out of the alley, mumbling to himself. Curses or what, I can’t really tell.
Olivier’s stream slows and stops. He’s shaking himself when I stand up close to him.
“The fuck are you doing?” he grunts at me. “I’m all dried up now, if that’s what you’re looking for. Not interested in men usually, but you’re pretty. Maybe some other time.”
“You have no clue how much he hates you, do you?” I say very softly.
Olivier looks up. He seems confused and angry. “Who the fuck are you talking about?”
I knee him hard in the gut. He gasps, his eyes bugging, as I slam the heel of my right palm directly into his chin. Olivier’s head snaps back and his eyes go unfocused as I grab the front of his shirt and swing him hard into the wall.
His head thumps against the stone and leaves a smear of blood as he collapses to the ground. I kneel on his chest and wrap my hands around his throat, digging in tight.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Simon shouts, standing a few feet away with a gun wobbling in his hands.
“Doing you a favor.” I squeeze tighter. The darkness in me screams for blood and feasts on Olivier’s death. The stocky asshole is only half-conscious, but he’s trying to struggle out from my iron grip.
“Let him go.” Simon’s voice is small.
“When he’s gone, the crew will be yours. Think about how much better things will be. No more Olivier to get into trouble. You’ll have more money, more freedom.”
“Let him go or I will kill you.”
“Think about your daughter. Think about Celine. Keep your finger off that trigger for thirty more seconds and she’ll have enough money to go to college and then some. Olivier won’t be in the way of our deal. You and I, Simon, at the rate you originally agreed on with my father. No bullshit, no more problems.”
Olivier gags. He chokes and gurgles and claws at me. His eyes roll as if he’s searching for Simon, and I know what he’s thinking. Why won’t he shoot? Just shoot! Save my life! I’ll pay!
He can’t beg because I’m crushing his windpipe.
The barrel of the gun waves. Simon’s finger is still on the trigger. I’m on the knife’s edge. If Simon decides whatever history he’s got with Olivier is more important than his own children, I’m going to die.
But this is what I’m good at. Meeting people, getting to know them, reading them, and making decisions based on my understanding of who they are. I’m right, more often than not. And I know I’m right here.
“Ten percent more on my end,” Simon says. “And I want a bonus. Ten thousand American.”
“Done.” I lean into Olivier’s throat, putting all my weight on him, grinning like the monster I am. “Hear that? You just got sold.”
Olivier’s face is dark red, then purple, then he’s not struggling anymore.
I climb to my feet once I’m sure that he’s dead. His body is cooling in a puddle of his own piss as I walk over to Simon and take off my gloves.
The new leader of his crew puts away the gun and shakes my hand.
“Congrats on your promotion,” I tell him.
“I appreciate that.”
“I look forward to a long and fruitful partnership.”
“To that and more.” He glances at Olivier’s body behind me. “I’ll take care of him.”
“I appreciate it.”
“Poor Amelie.”
“I doubt she’ll mind all that much.”
He grins and laughs, and the tension breaks between us as we leave the body behind for the rats to gnaw.