Talon moves in his seat. Our chapter doesn’t deal with the O’Connell’s, one of the big mafia families in New York. Hustle is working with them out of the Sussex chapter.
“That won’t interfere with this. We’re willing to cut out the middleman, the profits will be greater and when we can trust one another, it will be a lucrative partnership.”
Singer’s eyes spark at that. Appealing to his need for wealth is the way to go with this.
“And the shipment our mutual friend has arranged.”
“That is happening as planned. We’re not here to mess with current arrangements. This will be separate.”
“As in don’t let on what we’re doing,” he says.
“Do you share information about your other clients with anyone else?”
“No. But if we start something up here, you’re aware of my client. Will you still be working with him?”
“Like I said, we’re cutting out the middleman.”
“You don’t think they’ll get pissed about that?” he frowns.
I hold in the exasperated sigh. “We can go around in circles as much as you want, but the fact of the matter is, we’re bringing something big to you here. The contact we already have at the port can’t handle the amounts we’re bringing in through Europe and Asia. You’re not the only person we’re talking to.”
His lips purse as he thinks that through. It’s not true, but that doesn’t matter when you’re negotiating.
“This is a onetime offer, Singer. You’ve seen the figures and what we’re bringing to the table.”
“When is the next shipment due?” he asks after a few moments of tense silence.
Talon knows not to speak if I don’t or unless I give him the go ahead, which I do now. Talon explains everything and as he talks, Singer leans forward, his body language changing from guarded to intrigued.
He checks his calendar and nods. “I can get it through the green lane on this slot,” he says pointing out a date.
This is what we wanted. A few too many times we’ve come close to having our products found out because of inspections. It’s only that we’ve paid people off we’ve got things through. The main reason I want to work with Singer is his power over the green lane.
After talking through some more logistics with Talon, he agrees to the offer.
By the time we leave, Singer is trying to hide his excitement. And I’m feeling pretty damn good about what I’ve managed to set up here.
“We need to celebrate this shit,” Talon says.
“Later,” I reply. “This is need to know for now. I have to deal with something else. I’ll drop you off then take the cage.”
“You don’t want to use one of the bikes?”
“Nah, might as well stick with this until tomorrow.”
He nods and we spend the rest of the long journey back to Stroudsburg lost in our own thoughts.
Chapter Nine
Eli (Handlebar)
“You hear about Rip?”
I’ve gotten used to the guys shouting across the garage. They have to sometimes over the noise of the machinery, the banging of tools and general gossiping the men do. Sometimes I think they’re worse than women the way they stand around talking.
I haven’t heard anything but I’ve been holed up in here all day.
“Did someone take him to the shed?” Another guy yells out.
