4. Chapter 4
Saturdays around here are not much different from weekdays.
Patrick still follows the same routine, but visits more businesses.
We go into the bar first, then I sit in the passenger seat as he makes the rounds.
Some are the same ones he visits during the week, but others are only on weekends. I memorize names and faces as we go.
Saturdays are also the only days I actually see drugs exchanged.
Two businesses he frequents on this day hand him a brown bag that he places behind his seat.
I asked what was in the bag the first time it happened, and Patrick attempted to punch me but was unsuccessful, so I simply stuck my hand in the bag when he made his next stop.
I felt little baggies of powder, probably coke, and cash.
We're on the road well past dinner on Saturdays, and Patrick spends the evening in the bar with his crew in the corner booth while I stand guard at the hallway door.
On Sundays, we go in at the regular time, but he only visits two businesses on that day, and we return to the condo until my shift at night. The sperm donor snorts some drugs and sleeps on Sunday afternoons. At least it's peaceful.
I get up Monday morning, grab some breakfast, and go downstairs to the gym.
Admittedly, it's a nice workout area with a view of the green space behind the buildings.
There are three other condo buildings surrounding the grass and trees.
I go for a jog on the treadmill and lift weights before taking a walk around the main floor.
I've strolled around several times in the past few weeks and have found storage rooms, a washroom, and a control room.
The front desk doesn't allow anyone inside without a key, even delivery people.
They have packages placed in a two way box so no one has to enter the building.
I once caught a man who lives in the building forget his front door key, and he wasn't allowed inside without being vetted first, and that took almost 15 minutes.
I overheard the desk employee remind him he was only being allowed in because his name was on the lease.
Insanely strict security for a regular condo building, if you ask me.
It makes me wonder who else lives here and if there are other illegal business people around.
That afternoon, Artur pays me a visit while I’m in Patrick’s office with nothing to do but watch tv. He’s dressed in a grey suit and red tie. He's the only person who dresses well around here. The two idiots who held me down on my first day take up positions inside the door.
I wait quietly as Artur scrutinizes me. Is this some sort of test? Whatever, I can wait.
After 10 minutes, he finally speaks. “Your performance was lacking last night. I’m debating your punishment.”
Fucking mind games. “Let me know your decision,” I reply, focusing on the tv.
“You’re smarter than your father,” Artur comments.
I only raise a brow in response.
“Why did you play with your opponent?”
“Assumed you wanted an entertaining fight. If you want something else, then speak up. I can’t read minds.”
“I see.” He steeples his fingers under his chin while he continues to stare at me. “Perhaps I misjudged you. I will include further instructions next time. Tell me, how fast could you have ended that fight?”
“Immediately.” No sense in lying since he’s seen me fight before.
He nods before standing. “I’ll let this one slide. See you Friday night.” His two goons follow him out the door.
What the fuck? I suspect he came here to have his men beat the crap out of me again. Shaking my head, I try to get comfortable on the hard couch and wait for my useless, boring shift to start tonight.
Tuesday afternoon as I’m cleaning up the bar, one of Patrick’s crew enters from the hallway. I don’t know his name, but he’s here every night and talks to Patrick when he enters the bar.
He takes a seat on one of the red stools in front of me and taps his knuckles on the wooden top. I look up from stacking glasses and raise a brow. “Manual labour suits you, Nick,” he smirks.
Ignoring the pathetic attempt at goading me, I continue unloading the clean crate of glasses.
Both bartenders always leave a mess for me to clean up, but Decker is far worse.
He leaves every dirty glass from the entire night on the counter.
It took me almost an hour just to remove all the garbage and glasses today.
“I can’t believe the boss let you return after you stabbed him in the back. He doesn’t trust you and I never will. You’re a liability, and I won’t let you put him in danger. I’m his right hand, and I’ll protect him with my life.”
I internally roll my eyes. If he’s stupid enough to protect a man who would happily throw him under a bus to protect himself, then he deserves whatever he gets. I start making a list of liquor to restock after finishing the bar cleanup.
As I walk from behind the bar, the idiot grabs my arm. “Did you hear me, Nick?”
Looking down at his hand on my bicep, I meet his eyes. The cocky bastard doesn’t let go, so I rip my arm out of his grasp and continue towards the storage area. He grabs my arm again before I reach the door to the right hallway.
As I turn around, I catch a fist swinging at my face. Grabbing it, I push him against the wall. “How stupid are you?” I ask.
His response is to kick me, which isn’t effective since we're so close. “Get off me or you’ll regret it,” he spits.
Raising an eyebrow, I look at our positions. I have several inches and about 50lbs on this idiot. “Are you blind too?”
Maybe he is because he starts acting like a wild animal, so I punch him in the temple. He drops to the ground, and I walk to the storage room to get the liquor.
Once I’m done, I go to Patrick’s office. The dumbass was gone when I got back. “Who was the idiot at the bar?”
“I figured you were the one who knocked Deke out. He’s part of my crew, so back off, Nick, or there’ll be consequences.”
“I won’t allow your crew to beat me for no reason. I’ll always defend myself. Are you forgetting I have to fight every week for Artur? You wanna explain to him why I’m injured?”
Patrick gets a sour expression on his face but doesn’t comment further. I remind myself of why I'm here, putting up with this shit, but I'm already over this place.