“And?” Nick shrugged. “I don’t apologize for that.”
“My brothers, I’ve got to increase my royalty to thirty percent.” Shango clasped his hands together and swept his gaze across them. “We got a deal?”
The bottom had dropped out of Nick’s stomach, as if he’d been pushed over a cliff. He couldn’t find any words in response. But Omar erupted out of his seat so violently that his chair toppled to the carpet.
“Thirty percent is extortion!” Omar said. “That’s twice what we’re giving you now!”
“Indeed,” Shango said. He steepled his fingers. “I thought it was fair. I have only two vehicles. I’ll have to ask for thirty-five percent now.”
“Whoa,” Nick said. “Come on, man. Be reasonable.”
“Forty,” Shango said. He grinned.
“Is this a joke?” Omar asked. “Because you’re out of your mind.”
“Forty-five.” Shango cracked his knuckles.
Nick felt dizzy. He grabbed the edges of the table as if to balance himself. Omar was the numbers guy, but Nick knew their costs. At a forty-five percent royalty, off the top, that would leave Nick and Omar with only twenty percent to themselves, after expenses. Shango had cut their profits by more than half in a matter of minutes.
“No goddamn way,” Omar said. “No deal.”
Shango tilted his head toward Wanda. The woman smiled and sauntered around the table toward Omar.
Nick tensed, but Omar glared at her. He was six-two and in shape.
“You don’t scare me, bitch,” Omar said. “Back off.”
The blow came so fast that Nick hadn’t seen it coming. Wanda slammed her elbow into Omar’s face, and Nick heard something crunch. Omar gasped and staggered forward on watery legs. Wanda looped her arms around his neck, jerked him forward, and rammed her knee deep into his kidney. Omar let out a garbled squeak. Wanda released him, and he collapsed like a limp doll to the floor.
“Who’s the bitch now?” Wanda glared at Omar as he writhed on the floor. She swiveled toward Nick. “You want some, too, little man?”
“No, ma’am.” Trembling, Nick shook his head.
“It’s fifty percent now, family,” Shango said. He rubbed his hands together like a man anticipating a sumptuous meal. “Oh, and I’ll take a reasonable cash advance, too.”
4
The “reasonable cash advance” that Shango had casually required was for the entirely unreasonable sum of 1.5 million dollars.
Shango and his crew of goons had left. Omar hunched over the sink in the office restroom, spitting blood into the basin and tenderly assessing his bruised face. Standing in the doorway, Nick had tried to talk Omar into going to the hospital. His partner’s jaw had to be dislocated, possibly broken, and he was probably going to be pissing blood for a few days.
Omar was less interested in his health and more concerned about coming up with Shango’s money, and Nick tended to agree with him. Shango had not set a date for when he expected payment, but Nick doubted that the guy had a reputation for patience.
“How much do we have in cash reserves?” Nick asked. “We should be able to cover it, right? I mean, it’s gonna hurt for sure, but don’t we have the funds?”
Omar pressed a wet towel against his face that he had filled with ice cubes, a makeshift ice pack. Wincing, he said, “Not as much as he’s asking for.”
“But how much?” Nick asked.
“About a hundred.” Omar didn’t meet his gaze.
“A hundred thousand dollars?” Nick couldn’t believe what he had heard. “Omar, we’re bringing in what—almost a million a month, gross sales? But we have only a hundred grand in savings?”
“We’ve got expenses, Nick. It’s not that simple. We gotta pay all these vendors: the phone reps, the office space, the manufacturing company in Beijing. We’ve got employees and contractors. We pay ourselves, too, serious coin.”
“I didn’t know you had seven cars,” Nick said.
“I’m supposed to tell you every time I buy a car?”
