Chapter 4
Chapter Four
DEUCE
“Shit!” The person wielding a large hammer stops mid-swing. “You scared the hell out of me.”
“Are you Sammy?”
A face smudged and smeared with dirt. Work gloves and dusty, stained, baggy, denim overalls. Odd pieces of hair spring from a red bandana tightly covering any other hair.
“Who’s looking for him?” The voice is a deep rasp, and if I was on the phone, I’d be wondering if this is a male or female.
The strap of the overall slips down, and I smile. My eyeful of side boob escaping from a very skimpy tank top under the overalls tells me this is most definitely not Sammy.
“A buddy of Sammy’s said I should look him up ‘cause he was looking to sell this place.” I strategically left out the part of my buddy being my cellie in the joint.
Her dark, almost-black eyes peer through me, then she throws back her head and spits out a throaty laugh, and, yeah, my dick notices. “That’s priceless,” she says around her laughter. “The only buddies he has are in the joint.”
“Oh yeah?” I’ll play this out and see where she goes with it. “So, is he your father?”
“If that’s what you call someone who’s spent most of my life behind bars.”
I’m guessing her to be early twenties, although with all the dust and dirt on her, it’s hard to tell. She wipes her forehead with the back of her hand, and more hair escapes the bandana. Springy tendrils of thick, dark hair frame her face.
“And this place isn’t for sale, so you can move your ass out and let me get on with it.” She raises the hammer, and those perfectly rounded, ripe tits shimmy. Even though it’s been a while, I’m shit-sure they’re real and braless.
“You gonna keep staring at my tits?” Fuckin’ love deep voices on a woman.
“You gonna keep hitting that safe with a hammer?” I ease around the broken-down desk where she has a small safe teetering on top. “‘Cause it ain’t doin’ any good.”
“Can’t get the damn thing open.”
I take a look at the lock. “I’m assuming you don’t have the combination.”
“Brilliant deduction,” she deadpans, then adds a smirk.
“What if I tell you I can get this open if you—”
“If I what . . .” Her eyes narrow. This woman has definitely been fucked over, and not in the good way.
“If, after I get it open, you at least talk to me about selling this place.”
She leans her palms on the safe like her last ounce of strength seeped out of her body. “Fine. You really think you can get it open?”
“Wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t sure.”
She stares at me for a few seconds, then silently steps aside.
I probably should’ve told her what a piece of shit this safe was, and that with a little practice, a twelve-year-old could’ve opened it, but if working my magic got her to at least talk to me, then game on.
Four minutes later, I have it open. Much slower than my usual time, but, shit, I’m out of practice.
When the door releases, her mouth swings open with it. “That’s amazing. I’ve been hitting at it for at least a half hour.”
I step back and give her space, letting her open the door all the way. I don’t wanna spook her, since I outsize her in both height and weight.
“Shit,” she hisses out the word in one long breath. She steps aside and motions to the inside of the safe. “I don’t know why I’m surprised.”
I peek inside the empty space. “You were expecting what?”
“Who the fuck knows? My father told so many stories, I don’t even know if he thought they were true.”
“I’m assuming you thought there was money or something of value in there?”
“Bingo!” She sinks into the unsteady wooden chair next to the desk. “It was my last hope. Most of what came out of my father’s mouth were half-truths or outright lies.”
I could agree with her if I even gave either of my deadbeat parents a thought anymore, and, sure, it sucked, but I have other things on my mind right now. “Hate to say it, but we did have a deal.” I motion to the empty safe. “I got it open, so . . .”
“Right, and it’s empty.” She rests her head in her hands.
“The deal was that I get it open, not whether there was anything in it or not.” I smirk at her. “And I did get it open.”
“You really are a ballbuster, aren’t you?”
“I’ve been called worse, but now you gotta listen to my proposal.”
“Fine.” She waves her hand at me. “Talk.”
“I wanna take this dump off your hands, and I’m willing to give you what you’re asking.
” After all, how much could she want? One strong wind and the whole place would implode.
“What the hell are you gonna do with it, right? So, what do you say?” I pull out the smile that’s dropped plenty of panties.
“No.”
“Huh?”
“No.”
“No to what? Giving me a price?”
“No to selling The End, no to whatever else you might’ve said. No.”
“Why?” The smile falls from my face fast. “I’m sure you could use the money.”
“That’s true,” she agrees, and I’m encouraged.
“Name your price.” I can go as high as a hundred thousand, but this dump isn’t worth more than eighty, ninety thousand tops.
“Five million.”
I rear back. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me?”
“You said name your price.”
“Yeah, and this dump sure ain’t worth five million.”
“It is to me.”
“‘Cause your father gave it to you?”
“Ha, hardly.”
“Then what?”
She pushes out of the chair. “I’m not selling now, tomorrow or next week.” She leaves the office, and I follow her. She stops at the front door and holds it open. “Please leave and don’t come back. Understand?”
“No, I fuckin’ don’t. I don’t understand why you’d want to—”
She reaches out and pushes me through the entryway.
Her sudden move took me completely off guard.
So off guard that I’m standing on the cracked cement, staring at the door she just slammed in my face.
I hear locks fall into place and stifle a laugh.
I could boot this door without even breaking a sweat, but I don’t.
I also have no intention of giving up or finding out how this woman’s mind works. Fuck, I never even got her name, but I have to admire her guts.
I spin toward the parking lot, then stop and lean into the door.
Deep, slow, choking sobs seep through the splintered wood.
I listen for a few seconds more, then ball my fist and cock my wrist. I’m two seconds from knocking on the door, then my better judgment kicks in.
Whatever she’s dealing with, she’s gonna have to deal with it alone, ‘cause I got enough fuckin’ problems without borrowing her’s.
I spin back around and quickly make my way to my Harley. I don’t need to add any more bad decisions to my list.
Next time, and there would be a next time, I’d try a different approach. I don’t know what, but different, ‘cause, one way or another, The End is going to be the new Kings of Anarchy clubhouse before the month is out.
Later that night, me, Speed and Shady head over to Harrah’s Pool After Dark.
We could’ve gone up on the boards and looked up Scratch, or gone over to the Hard Rock and wait till Fist’s shift was over, but I wanted to get the meet with Ace done.
I had no illusions how it would go down.
Ace and I are equals in every way: size, intelligence and self-control, or lack thereof.
I gotta admit I’m a little wired to see him for a lot of reasons, but mainly ‘cause, back then, we were the closest. Which probably means he has the biggest grudge against me.
“I texted Ace earlier, so he knows we’re coming.” Shady leads the way through the casino.
The crowded casino has my nerves twitching.
Funny thing about being locked up and getting out into the wild again—everything seems amplified.
The clanging of the slots, the cheering of the players, the constant movement and flashing lights jangle my nerves.
Like the volume is turned up way too high.
The adjustment to being around crowds, random noises, and especially strangers amps up my anxiety.
Add meeting up with Ace to the mix and my wires are tripping.
“You tell him I was with you?” We finally get through the casino and head to the back of the building where the enclosed pool serves as a nightclub. Hence the name, Harrah’s Pool After Dark.
“He knows.”
At least my being here isn’t a total surprise. I’ve realized these guys rarely if ever communicated over the last five years I was on the inside. Speed mumbled something this morning about bad blood and pissed-off attitudes, but that should be aimed at me, not each other.
Shady stops in front of two huge glass doors with Harrah’s After Dark etched across the front. “You ready to do this?”
“Shit, you make it sound like I’m walking the last mile.”
Shady and Speed exchange a look, but I don’t need to ask. Ace was and probably still is a hard-ass. No doubt.
Ace and I came up together, two street kids from Paterson with not much more than the clothes on our backs.
Ace, a.k.a. Tony Morretti, and me, Giovanni Russo, had already lived a lot of life by the time we were teens.
We beat it outta that cesspool of a neighborhood at eighteen and headed for the shore.
Summer tans, all the booze we could swipe, and hot-and-cold-running women.
When winter came, we bummed around, got odd jobs, and lived rough wherever we could. When we saved up enough, we bought Harleys, and somehow ended up in Atlantic City, where we gave birth to the Kings of Anarchy, Atlantic City Chapter.
Shady says something to the doorman, and we breeze past the line leading up to the check-in where they put your ID through a machine.
I lean in to Shady. “I don’t have a valid ID anymore.”
“No sweat.” Shady says something to that guy, and we’re waved through again. Either Shady or Ace have some pull here, but either way, I’m not asking any questions.
“Ace got us table service,” Shady says as we follow the hostess halfway around the pool to a table surrounded on one side by fake palms. Two seconds later, we’re settled on a leather-and-velvet banquette positioned around a small table boasting bottles of Belvedere, Patron, Jack Daniels, and an assortment of mixers.
Maybe Ace wasn’t as pissed as I imagined, although he was the one guy who wouldn’t be fooled by any bullshit.
He knew me better than I knew myself, and that was a scary fuckin’ fact.
He was the one guy who could take me down physically if he wanted to—a point he proved a few times when we were kids, but he was too much of a loose cannon to be a leader, and he knew it.
Of course, I didn’t prove to be such a great leader either, but he never even wanted the job. He was perfectly happy letting me call the shots, with him hanging tight as my right hand, making sure it all got done. He was solid and always had my back, which made my fuck-up even worse in my eyes.
I had to get out of my head and concentrate on the here and now.
“Not too fuckin shabby.” Speed uncaps the Belvedere and splashes it into three glasses.
I crane my neck and take it all in. “Not bad.”
Speed and Shady raise their glasses. “Here’s to the comeback of the Kings.”
I nod, then take a deep drink, letting the smooth, clear liquid convince me Ace must be doing all right. Maybe he’s doing so good, he’s not blaming me for every shit thing that’s happened to him in the last five years.
I take in the high-end crowd. Classy women dressed to impress, along with plenty of guys desperate to make a score and get lucky. Typical club scene, but for me, it feels like an eternity, and I can’t help keeping my head on swivel.
“You guys come here a lot?” I spread my arms over the back of the cushions just like the old days. Hanging out in clubs, kicking back, and finally a feeling of being home.
“Never.” Speed and Shady exchange a glance.
“What’s that look mean?” I ask.
“It means you really don’t get it.” Speed gulps down a shot of vodka. “After you got sent up, everything fell to shit, and because of that, none of us wanted to be around each other.”
“Too fuckin’ painful,” Shady adds. “None of us wanted to reminisce about what we lost or all the shit that went bad.”
“But that’s all history now.” Speed pours a generous amount of Patron into each of our glasses. “Here’s to better days.”
Typical Speed, keeping the peace.
We all raise our glasses, and I down mine in one.
Life is so fuckin’ strange. Forty-eight hours ago, I was sitting in my cell at Monmouth Correctional counting the hours till I got sprung.
Now, I’m sitting in a glitzy nightclub, decked out to look like a tropical island, complete with cabanas, multi-level pool, and women in all stages of undress.
“I see what you mean about the women here.” I grin at Shady, then I pour myself another shot of tequila and soak it all in. “Where’s Ace? Knowing him, I thought he’d be here already showing us all around.”
Speed shrugs. “Must be busy.”
“Place is fuckin’ packed, but I don’t get it. Huge pool and nobody goes in the water.”
“No swimming allowed,” Shady says. “Nighttime club rules. Only swimming at the Day Club.”
“Pool party without the pool. Seems fuckin’ dumb.” The tables are strategically placed around the pool and amongst the palm trees and tropical foliage, but everybody steers clear of the actual water. When I look closer, they actually have the stairs leading into the pool roped off.
I stretch my arms over the banquette and finally start to relax with the help of the vodka and tequila.
“I can’t believe my fuckin’ eyes.” I don’t need to turn to know Ace’s voice. “Who the hell let you in?”
I push off the velvet cushion, gearing up for his shit talk. When I turn toward his voice, a fist lands squarely between my cheekbone and my jaw.