five Warren
five
Warren
Ice clinks against my glass as I pour my whisky. Taking a sip, I sit down on my couch and stare out the windows overlooking the ocean.
My phone rings, and I cringe. It’s past nine, and I really wanted to relax this evening. Glancing at my phone, I see my dad is calling.
Fuck.
I let it ring a few more times before reluctantly answering.
“Hey, Dad,” I say.
“Warren, where the hell have you been?” he roars out.
Sighing, I rub my jaw. I love my father, but sometimes he can be intolerable. He acts as though my brothers and I are his soldiers more than his sons. I guess it’s hard to be angry with him. This is the only life he has ever known.
“I’ve been busy,” I explained.
“I know, your brother said the same thing. Your club is taking off, and I am proud, but don’t forget about where your loyalties really are,” he reminds me.
Damon has been busy the last few days with a couple of real estate ventures he got into with Lilly, and Xavier has been grumpier than ever.
He’s been wanting to open up Shadows more to increase cash flow.
Our goal is to one day not have to rely on our fathers for income and solely rely on our businesses.
My chest tightens and I down the rest of my drink. I had really wanted to enjoy the burn, but instead, I just needed the numbness it brings. I grab my car keys and head out the door.
“My loyalties are always with the family,” I grit out.
Starting my truck, I drive toward Shadows.
“I need you at the docks tonight,” he gruffs out.
“For what?” I ask, knowing that I’m going to piss him off.
Out of everyone in our family, I’m the one who takes life the least seriously. Damon is always wrapped up with work, Xavier cares too much about appearances, and my father doesn’t know how to show compassion.
“Don’t fuck with me, Warren. You know why,” he says cryptically.
I almost chuckle, knowing that I riled up the old man. One of our family rules is never to give specifics over the phone. You never know when someone could be listening.
“Dad, I really can’t get caught up in anything tonight,” I say through the phone.
I can hear my dad grunt and string a line of curse words while I hold my phone away from my ear. Parking, I walk toward Shadows, already pissed that my one night at home is ruined.
“Are you going to let down the family?” He knows that will really irk me.
“No, but I do have other things going on,” I argue.
Little does he know I already left my house and am at Shadows to change.
I never leave my house in anything that could make people suspect I was into other things.
Weapons, clothing we wear when we work for our father, and other illegal items remain at Shadows.
We bought the club under an LLC and use an offshore bank account.
If something ever goes down, it won’t come back on us.
“Warren, you don’t have anything else going on. I need you at the docks tonight to pick up a shipment. This one is big, and I don’t want to rely on the other guys,” he huffs.
“Why can’t you rely on the crew?” I ask.
This time, my question is genuine. We’ve got guys who we trust to come with us on these missions. I quickly type out a text to my brothers, and when they respond, it’s clear that Dad has already gotten to them, too.
Xavier: I’ll give him an hour, and then I will leave.
Damon: We need to make this quick. Lily has a big meeting tomorrow, and I don’t want to be out late.
Rolling my eyes, I read over their texts.
Me: I’m pissed that I even had to leave my house. We get there, get the product, then leave.
“Warren, this is a new customer, and we need to make sure it’s legit. No one outside of the family on this one,” he states firmly.
My senses are on high alert. We don’t need new customers. Why now?
“Dad, do you think that’s a good idea? I mean, after what happened with Lily last year…” I try to argue, but he cuts me off.
“Be there at midnight. I’m texting you the coordinates of where I need you to be. Tell your brothers I expect to be notified that everything is in place by one in the morning,” he spits out and then hangs up.
He texts me the directions of where we are to be waiting, and I go into my closet to grab a pair of black jeans and a black t-shirt. Once I’m changed, I hear Damon and Xavier barging into the office.
“Fuck, why do we still do this?” Xavier questions, as he stomps toward his closet.
“Because we are idiots,” I joke.
Damon glares at me as he pulls off his dress shirt and tosses it onto his desk.
I fall into my desk chair and begin scrolling through my phone while he and Damon change.
Once everyone is changed and we each grab a gun, we head out to Xavier’s jeep. As we drive toward the Sunnyvale docks, I can’t help but feel a twinge of unease growing inside of me.
“Hey, what do you think about next week for our next night at Shadows?” Xavier asks.
I’m in the back, sprawled out, while Damon sits in the passenger seat.
The windows are down, and the cool night air is flowing through the car.
The streets are silent at this time of night.
Most people in Sunnyvale don’t come out late at night.
Even the college kids leave the club downtown before midnight.
“Seems a little early,” Damon answers.
“Nah, we could use the money,” I argue.
Xavier nods as he turns onto a single-lane road. “I agree with Warren. We need to make the club more consistent while still keeping the mystery.”
Damon huffs, but doesn’t argue. We all share the same mission: to break free from our father and make our own money.
“What night?” I ask.
“Saturday. Tickets go live Friday night. Quick money,” Xavier grunts out.
“Sounds good to me,” I reply.
We make it to the docks, and Xavier parks in a parking lot down the road. We walk along the waterway, staying out of sight. We follow the directions Dad sent, and when we reach the spot, I see dock number 13.
“This isn’t the normal spot,” I whisper to the guys.
“Dad said it was a new client. He wouldn’t use the standard dock on the first run,” Damon whispers back.
A large ship starts to dock, and we remain hidden in the shadows. Once it’s stopped, a man appears on the bow. Damon steps forward, his gun carefully placed in his hand.
The man notices Damon's arrival and nods toward him. “Shipment came in. The man said 3 men would be here to help,” the guy shouts.
Xavier and I step forward, and the man sees us. “Password,” Xavier requests.
Our father always taught us that no matter what you do, you always have a password. Only those who need to know it know it.
“5571,” the man says back to us.
We all nod. That’s the password our dad created years ago.
“Bring the shipment to the crate on dock 13,” Damon says. “We will help monitor.”
The man nods and gets to work unloading around twenty large boxes. He, along with two other guys, places them in the shipping crate on dock 13. When they are finished, they all head back to the ship.
We watch them untie the vessel and then start to sail off. We wait until the boat has faded into the darkness of the night before any of us moves. You never know when someone is going to pull a stunt and shoot or come after you.
“I wonder what Dad has gotten us into tonight,” Damon says, moving toward the crate.
We follow his lead and walk over. Carefully, Damon opens one of the large wooden boxes. There are a few packages of off-brand purses, and then, as he digs down, I hear the sound of metal. Damon pulls out two large weapons.
He inspects them under the lamp posts lining the dock. “These are silencers,” he says, handing me one of the guns. It’s a large semi-automatic rifle with a long, black barrel and a muzzle. They are used to silence the sound of the gun when it’s fired.
Looks like Dad is now bringing in illegal firearms. I’m sure he’s got several clients already lined up for these. They make it easy to shoot and kill without making a sound.
Suddenly, my phone vibrates in my pocket, and I already know who it is.
“Hey, Dad,” I answered.
“Is it done?” he asks quickly.
“Yeah, all of the boxes are in the crate. We will lock it and then head out,” I tell him.
“Good. Money will be sent to your accounts.” He hangs up.
I relay the message to the guys, and we get everything locked up. As we go to leave, something stirs along the shoreline. All three of us stop dead in our tracks.
Damon holds up his hand for us to stay still. I grab my gun from my waistband, and Xavier does the same. Another sound, more like a splash, occurs, and I swear my heart starts beating wildly.
Slowly, we start walking toward the shoreline.
All three of us have our guns ready, anticipating anything.
We’ve been doing this for years, and only a handful of times has anyone been stupid enough ever to try to mess with us.
While we keep our identities hidden, rumors about our family and the mafia have circulated throughout Sunnyvale for years.
They may not know who we are, but they know we are here. Monsters living in the shadows.
Creeping along, we peer over the concrete wall that blocks the shoreline from the loading area around the docks. It’s too dark to see anything clearly, but if someone is there, we will be able to hear them.
Hopefully.
Another splash occurs, and then a wave rocks against the wall. A rumble of thunder roars across the sky, and the wind begins to pick up speed.
“Fuck, it’s just the waves,” Damon half laughs.
“You sure?” Xavier asks, uncertainty in his voice.
“Yeah, sounds like it’s about to storm. The waves are rough and must have knocked something up against the wall,” Damon explains.
He’s still searching the area like he’s unsure of his own words. An eerie sensation makes the hair on my arms stand on end. I don’t like this uneasy feeling.
“Maybe we should look around,” I offer.
Damon and Xavier shake their heads, no.
“We are done here. Let’s go,” Damon says, already stalking off toward the lot where the jeep is parked.
I stand back a second longer, glancing around for any sign of movement.
“Warren, come on,” Xavier yells back to me.
Looking around one last time, I shake my head and realize that I’m just being paranoid. There isn’t anyone here. Hopefully, Damon and Xavier are right.
Once we are back in the jeep, the guys start talking about the possible new client that Dad brought this shipment in for.
While they talk, I open my social media and pull up our Shadows account.
I scroll through the various messages asking when the next night will be, and the booth picks from women wanting tickets.
However, one message seems to stand out.
Chicka92: I would like to request an interview with you. The world wants to know about Shadows. Why not give us the inside scoop?
“What the fuck,” I mutter to myself.
Damon turns in the passenger seat. “What?”
“Nothing. Sorry, I was talking to myself,” I say, still glued to the phone.
I’ve had a lot of requests on our social media, mostly women wanting to sleep with us, but never has anyone asked to interview us.
Everyone who has either come to Shadows or wants to come to our kink club knows the rules.
We don’t talk about the club, and we definitely don’t fucking talk about it with anyone.
I delete the message and stuff my phone back into my pocket. Tonight has been a fucking wild ride, and all I want to do now is go to bed and sleep off the memories of the day.