Chapter 7
Proctor
I stood in front of the mirror, fastening the cufflink on my right sleeve and adjusting my suit collar.
This was a much different kind of cuffs than what I’d worn the past year, and this ten thousand dollar suit was nothing like the last. The Italian wool fell over my frame just right, tailored for me and only me.
I had my Cartier frames on and had stopped by my barber earlier and let him to line me up so my fade blended so smoothly it looked painted.
When I walked downstairs and passed the bar, the TV mounted in the corner was replaying footage of a massacre at a gas station outside of town. I laughed through my nose, amused, because the news anchor kept repeating that there were no leads in the case. Of course, there wasn’t.
As long as ol girl kept her mouth shut, I’d definitely get away with murder like I always did. I know she would simply by the way she looked at me earlier today. Her face showed half fear, half fascination, which means I had her right where I wanted her.
When I walked in the club, the building had that quiet-before the storm energy.
The waitresses moved around setting up sections, placing bottles in neat lines, and dropping ice into silver buckets, preparing them to hold expensive bottles.
The bass from the sound check vibrated through the floor, and these were the typical noises you hear before the chaos later in the night.
I walked toward the back hallway, and Brenda, the staff manager for the club, came twisting out of the door in one of her signature tight dresses and high heels.
“Big Proc.”
“Big Bren, how you been?”
“I've been great. Glad to see you back at work.”
“For sho.”
“All of the guard supervisors are back there waiting on you.”
“Good, thanks.” I hugged her around her waist, admiring that sweet ass perfume she always wore. Everything was platonic with Brenda and I because business was always just business with anyone who worked here.
“Real quick Bren, how many niggas got thrown out of the club while I was gone?”
“About a hundred. Maybe two hundred if we count the pool parties over the summer.”
“Good, that means they were doing their fuckin jobs around here?”
“Yep, since they were trained by the best.”
She rubbed her hand across my chest before she walked past me.
“See you around, Big Proc.”
“Not before I spot you first, Big Bren.” She laughed at our playful banter.
I went further down the hallway and pushed through the office door, where Sergio, Dave, Steve, and Marcus were posted up, draped in suits just like mine.
Even though we ran security, we dressed like corporate niggas because I ran my security team like the secret service.
We treated every guest like The President, because not only did I want money, but I also wanted the best reputation in the city.
Whether it was fuckin or securing a club, I was going to be elite at everything I do.
“Boss man got his haircut and suit on. That’s how I know it’s time to get back to business.”
Sergio’s Italian accent curled around his words.
“Yeah, and now that I’m back, people don’t need to just hear it, they need to feel it.”
“Yeah, we hear you.”
“For sure.”
“Already.”
They echoed each other, nodding.
“Yo, Proc, I heard old boy Braxton got a broken rib earlier at Hawk’s spot off the strip.”
“Your fuckin right he got a broken rib, and it pisses me off that it wasn’t four.
He was the only nigga that I set up with these rich bitches that didn’t have my money when I checked in with him.
Bitch ass nigga said he would get at me next week, so I one upped him and got with him today.
Speaking of, I appreciate all of you niggas for turning over your funds to the safe without hassle.
This shit only works if we all keep it one hunnit with each other. ”
I looked around the room at everyone locked in.
When I first started this service, I knew I couldn’t fuck all the rich bitches that came my way, so I recruited niggas who I could trust to pay me my cut.
I never asked for much, not even half, because I wasn’t their pimp.
My requirements were only one thousand off of each payday, and that should’ve been nothing to these niggas.
I know for a fact I sent Sergio thirty bitches since I’ve known him.
Cookie running her mouth to her rich friends had a lot of niggas rich now, but I didn't mind sharing.
Shid, I had enough dick to fuck then all myself if I wanted to.
Once the meeting wrapped up, we headed toward the front to prepare for the seven o’clock opening. I was strolling down the hall with the rest of my top guards when Brenda came hustling down towards us, heels clicking fast against the floor.
“Hey, Proc, I was just coming to get you. There are two detectives up front looking for you.” I stopped mid stroll but signaled for the rest of them to continue.
“Looking for me for what?”
“They wouldn’t say, but I told them I’d check to see if you were back here. If you want, I can tell them you’re not, and you can sneak out of the back.”
“Nah, it’s cool. I’ll go and talk to them.”
I adjusted my jacket and walked toward the front like I didn’t have a worry in the world.
When I walked up to the bar area, two detectives were standing there with their hands in their pockets, posture stiff, like they wanted to intimidate me.
“Harrison Proctor?” They greeted me when I walked up.
“That’s me. What the hell do you want? I’m busy back there.”
“Listen, we are here because we wanted to know what you knew about a murder that happened at a gas station near the hood. Four people dead.”
“Alright, what does that have to do with me? This Vegas. People get shot every day. Kids, women, old people, shit Tupac. Y’all still haven’t found out who killed him, and that was over thirty years ago.”
I was talking shit to irritate their asses on purpose because the police never scared me. Me and my little brother done jumped some cops before and took their guns. The moment I realized they were just pussies with guns was the moment I realized I had nothing to fear.
“Proctor, one of the men who was shot dead today, is the suspect in the shooting of your son outside the courthouse yesterday. Isn’t it ironic that he was gunned down while leaving town?”
“Not ironic, but Karma if you ask me. Maybe you should have found him sooner.”
I slipped my hands into my pockets, calm as ever.
“Proctor, was this get back for your son? A confession now will save you some time in the long run.”
“I had nothing to do with that murder, and I was with a lady friend named Tania who is friends with my son’s wife staying with them for the week. I took her to one of my favorite restaurants, and we were there for hours before we both went home.”
“And what time did you leave there?”
“Shid, I don’t know, maybe around 4:00. I’m sure the people at Diane’s Soul Food can vouch for that. Go ask them, and my lady friend. I have nothing to hide.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“As sure as I am that water is wet nigga. Look, y’all boys already tried to get me on another murder that I didn’t do, now y’all back because that didn’t stick.
Damn, can a nigga at least get his dick wet a few times before y’all try to lock me back up again?
I’m not like y’all. I like pussy and need it more than once a year. ”
They shook their heads, before I walked off, unbothered on the outside, but I still wanted to smoke to release that negative ass vibe those pigs gave me.
I went to my office and pulled out a vacuum-sealed stash, busted it open, and rolled a blunt thick enough to quiet whatever noise was building in my chest. I stepped outside where the fleet of luxury cars was lined up, and I leaned against mine, lighting up and inhaling until the smoke filled my lungs.
This was my first time smoking in a year because getting high in jail wasn’t a real kind of high.
In jail, there was a ceiling on your buzz because nothing about being locked up feels carefree.
I was looking out towards the road, blowing smoke rings, when my phone buzzed with a call from my son.
I answered the phone.
“What up, baby boy?”
“Yo, Brenda just told me that the police were up there looking for you. What’s going on?”
I shook my head, almost chuckling at the fact that Brenda hadn't let five minutes pass before she was reporting to her boss. She was good and bad for that reason alone. Her ass for sure wasn’t letting shit going on inside the club slip past Hawk.
“They were just up here asking about some little shit that went on today.”
“Little shit like what?”
“It’s none of your concern, Hawk. You should be resting.”
“How am I supposed to be resting when pigs are popping up at my club, talking to you. Keep it straight with me Proc. I can handle whatever you've got to say.”
I exhaled the smoke from my lungs and cleared my throat to spill it because I knew Hawk wasn’t letting that shit go.
“Alright, I caught the nigga who shot you, and I did what I had to do.”
“How did you catch him and where?”
“I was riding with Cyn homegirl, and she pointed them out.”
“Who, Ari?”
“Nah, the other friend. She asked me to take her to get something to eat, and she randomly saw them at a gas station. I parked across the street, checked for cameras on buildings, and handled it. Him, his mama, and his brothers from what I’m guessing.”
“Four people, nigga? In broad daylight? And you did that shit in front of Tania nigga? What the hell is wrong with you, Proc?”
“You know I wasn’t letting them slide for touching you. It was a clean hit, and plus, she won’t say anything. That bitch wants to fuck with me.”
“How was it clean when you had a witness with you that you hope is loyal to you because she wants to fuck? Cyn and her homegirls didn’t grow up like that. They never saw no shit like that before. How the fuck am I supposed to break this shit to my wife? That’s if Tania hasn’t told her already.”