Chapter 6
Castor
My black-on-black Range Rover revs as I swerve between traffic, heading south on the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway. Marco sits with an assault rifle in the back seat, ducking even though my windows are tinted almost black.
One look in the rearview mirror shows a man with bloodshot eyes, red nostrils, and an evil smile.
My boy is a sick puppy, which is exactly what I need watching my back.
We get off our exit and make a hard right near an underpass construction zone. The car bounces as I swerve it off the street and onto a dirt-road where a tuned-up Honda Accord idles. There’re two ‘men’ with funky off-colored hair trying to look tough leaning on their car. Young idiots. Twenty-two, tops. A part of me wants to teach them a lesson about the underworld, but the inner businessman says to ignore their attitude and focus on the prize.
I pull up with the window rolled down and tap my five rings on the panel. “Heads up, dipshits.”
They both lazily kick off their cars and strut up toward the window.
“Right there is fine.” I hold my hand out, and they obey. “You know why I’m here, personally?”
“Yeah, son. To pay up,” the dumber of the two snaps.
Marco snickers behind me. “Oh, just give me the word, Castor.”
“You delivered ten Teslas and two Hondas to the lot. Something not clicking in that thick head? Hair-dye seep into your fucking brain?”
The dumb one puckers his lips.
“Our agreement was eleven and five. You don’t say boo, you don’t give a heads up that you’ll be short. You just show up here with your hands out, waiting for cash.” I stare at them, warning them to be careful before they open their mouths again.
They take a beat, side-eyeing one another.
The one with a green mohawk decides to speak. Fang, they call him. The smarter of the two, for sure.
“We had a mishap with one of the deliveries—”
“Sounds like you had two mishaps. They came from different manufacturers,” my tone darkens. “Careful with the details. I’m keen to them.”
Fang’s temple starts to shine. He’s perspiring. “I didn’t want to bog you down with the particulars.”
“Normally, I wouldn’t ask. But this is our first job together. My instincts told me not to trust two overconfident programming cucks who could barely hold a conversation. Sad to think I was right. And to think you were recommended in high esteem.”
“Hey, Bullion. Sir.” The man with orange hair down to his shoulders steps up. “It wasn’t our fault. We got screwed—”
“Listen to me carefully. I’m going to give you a quick lesson in business, and I’m only going to say this once. When you promise something, and we shake on it, it’s your responsibility to deliver. The internal qualms, employees who fuck you over, whatever… None of that is my concern. Only the end result. Understand?”
Fang holds up his arm for his friend to shut up. “We understand, Bull.”
“That’s not enough, unfortunately. This is going to be a hard lesson, but you’re only getting half-payment today.”
“What?” Orange takes another step, and I open the car door threateningly, causing them both to back up and put their hands to their hidden weapons.
The back window slowly rolls down, and Marco leans a semi-automatic M4A1 out the back window.
“One more move and I’ll make you both a Van Gogh painting,” I say. “We’ll have green, orange, and red.” I step out, fixing my blazer.
Now they’re quivering, foreheads shining with beads of nervous sweat.
“I know your boy has a gun trained on me in the back seat,” I say. “And you should know I have the addresses of your parents, your brothers, and all your little hideouts. So tell him to stand down, now,” I grumble.
Fang motions for the hidden man in the car to lower the gun.
Idiot didn’t realize I could see the outline of the barrel through the window.
“Now.” I reach inside my inner jacket pocket, and they’re both careful not to flinch. I pull out a stack of gold coins. “You either accept half for your shoddy work, learn your lesson, and I give you one more chance to deliver. Or, I saw off your driving leg, and we’ll never see one another again.” My eyes hone on Fang, because he’s the one I want to keep communications open with.
The truth is, getting an inside man at a Tesla factory is next to impossible with all the programming built into the mainframe. I need these young pricks to disable them, so my guys can start their work.
“What’s it going to be, Fang? You want to keep racing?” I take another step forward. My bulletproof vest under my suit can take their shots, and as soon as one gun goes off, Marco will have them all dead. But it won’t come to that.
I’m a master at reading people. They’ve already folded. All I have to do is wait for the anger to melt into pure fear.
A curt nod tells me all I need to know, so I toss the stack of gold at him, and tensions drop.
I slowly close the distance between me and Fang to slap him lightly on the face. “Good choice.”
He smirks. “Won’t happen again, Bull.”
“Uh huh, better not. ’Cause if it does, then I know I’m not being heard. And I don’t like wasting my breath.”
“Loud and clear, sir,” the orange hair guy says.
“One more thing.”
They stiffen.
“I’ll only be dealing with you directly from now on. This one is a moron.” As soon as I say the words, Marco starts cackling from the back seat.
“Alright,” Fang says meekly. “You always going to pay in gold? I’m sick of going to the exchanges.” He’s cracking his first joke now that the threat is over.
“Of course. How do you think all my shops make their premium?” I smirk at them, and for the first time, they realize how far my empire extends.
As soon as I get back in the car and roll up the windows, Marco cackles again.
“Damn shame. Thought I was going to get to paint there, for a second.”
“You’re a sick fuck. You know that?”
“Guilty.”
We pull away, and my burner buzzes. My chest goes weak when I see a number I don’t recognize. Every part of me hopes it’s her, but I can’t look right now with her brother in the car.
What’s coming over me? Second time today my head’s gone straight to Gia…It’s been a few days since our chance meeting at Bangos and I dipped my toe in the forbidden waters. Told myself to let it be, but I didn’t listen to reason. Had to show her I could be a gentleman. Why? Fuck if I know… Feels important. She ain’t even around and I keep catching my thoughts drifting to her.
After a few minutes of driving back on the highway, I glance at the phone, trying to sneak a peek.
“I notice you’re preoccupied these days.” Marco’s eyes connect with mine in the mirror. He’s suspicious. “It’s not like you, Castor. Someone on your six?”
“No idea what you’re talking about. I’m always on the move,” I say.
“You and me both, brother. But… one thing you never do, is glance at your phone every two minutes.”
I wrinkle my nose. “It’s Yuri,” I lie. “Getting back in with him will be big for our crew.”
Marco leans back and scoffs. “Our crew isn’t ‘big’ enough? Your fingers get gaudier by the day. Terrified to know what your cock ring looks like now.”
We both laugh.
“You’re acting like you’re not enjoying the extra cash in your pocket.” I eye him, flipping the attention back. “Though I wonder how much coke one little guy can survive.”
“Fuck off. I like staying sharp. Can snipe a chipmunk from a mile away right now.”
“Uh huh.” I’m unconvinced.
“Nah. Thinking of buying Mom a new house near the water with the new jobs that’ve been rolling in. I gotta hand it to you, Cast. You’re making a name for us. Ever since I got out of the can—”
“For the sixth time,” I bark.
“Yeah, well. I don’t like when people tread on me. Besides, we got good lawyers.”
We cackle again.
“Get this. Tried giving my sis some money the other day—”
My heart does a somersault at the mention of her, then seizes when I remember the package I sent her.
Fuck, they’re on speaking terms again?
“—poor girl has terrible habits like me, I think. Wakes up in the middle of the day, in a shitty apartment that’s older than the fucking Vatican. Tried to give her some cash, but she shooed me away like I have the plague.”
I shrug. “She’s a server. Probably works late and sleeps late. I don’t take her as a cokehead gunslinger like you. And don’t you remember, she hates the mob. Probably because you beat the shit out of anyone who looks your way.”
Marco grunts. “Yeah, whatever. Still have to take care of them.”
I stare at him hard as he peers out the window. He feels my eyes on him eventually.
“What, prick?”
“Could it be? Our little psycho is growing up?”
“Screw you, jerk off.” He points the assault rifle at me, jokingly. “I’ll show you ‘grown up.’”
I start swerving the car back and forth to screw with him, and I realize we’re still those same two kids in adult bodies, with far too much power.
At a red light on the way back to base, I finally give in and glance at my phone. Two text messages, both of them make my fists clench around the steering wheel. Pick-up confirmation, vendor paid in full. And another spam text. No Gia.
My mood falls off a cliff, but I have to hide it. Why can’t she—
Bzzt.
I pick up the phone again and it hits me that maybe Marco’s right – I’m a little on edge about this whole forbidden tango Gia and I started. I freeze up when I see the text.
“Thanks for the tip, Castor, but it’s too much. Come by the Bangos tonight and pick it up.”
My heart jackhammers in my chest. Finally.
Beep! Beep!
Someone honks behind me. I’ve been sitting at a green light like an asshole, with a heavily armed hothead in my backseat. Marco’s already itching to turn the gun on the guy just for shits, so I speed forward.
“What is it?” Marco asks. “Is it Yuri?”
“Nah. Pick-ups in order for the day. Haven’t heard from the Russian since our party. He’s playing hard to get.”
“Don’t tiptoe. We aren’t little up-and-comers anymore. We call the shots.”
“Not when we’re paired with the Rigianos, we don’t,” I say.
“Fuck the Rigianos.”
“Tell me how you really feel.”
“I’m not the only one, either,” Marco raises his voice.
His outbursts reaffirm that I shouldn’t give too much information on the Russian lead. I’ll keep that with my counsel – Big Ace and Ratchet Tony. My hound remains on the leash for now. Even if he is my best friend. Truth of the matter is, he’s a coke-bender away from a massacre.
“Oh yeah?” I say. “Want to go tell all that to Donny? See how he takes it.”
“The big boss knows it ain’t all rainbows, Castor. So long as we don’t car bomb each other to hell, and his pockets get fatter, the fuck does he have to care about? Doesn’t change the facts, though. Some of Loophole’s old crew needs to get got.”
Hmm. Maybe I can run with that. Marty Loophole was a scumbag that screwed over the Russians more times than I can count.
“Not our place, Trigger. Keep your guns pointed at the cartel,” I say, glancing at my phone again when he’s not looking.
“Rejecting a tip is the highest form of offense in my family. Where’s your manners?”
I text her back at a red light while Marco’s turned away.
“Manners kind of went out the window when I opened my legs under the table.”
My cock gets hard almost immediately. Rereading the text isn’t helping either. I’ve never had to sneak around like this. Me and the boys do what we want, when we want. But this off-limits bullshit? It’s doing something bad to me.
What’s worse, I dig her.
“Sorry to corrupt such a delicate flower. Think of me when you count your gold.”
I shift in my seat, glancing at my phone more than the road, unable to keep myself away. She’s like a drug I can’t shake.
“It’s either going in your pocket or down the sewer, Castor. You have until midnight tonight to come get it.”
I growl lowly.
“Look at you, making demands. All I see is a woman begging to see me.”
“Tick tock,” she replies.
A woman hasn’t made me this excited in a long while. She gets my humor and gives it back to me, which I like. There’s only one fucking problem.
Tap. Tap.
I jolt in my seat when Marco slaps my seat.
“Yo. Earth to Castor, we doing another pick-up, or we playing cards at the shop? I’m crashing pretty hard.”
“Yeah. One more pick-up and we’ll break. You gotta lay off the blow, guy.” I peer over my shoulder. “That shit is going to kill you one day.”
“Nah. I need to stay sharp these days. Rats and shifty-eye fucks everywhere trying to get one over on me. Once I kill ’em all, then I’ll take a rest.”