That always got them. It was satisfying to see the effect the Castellani name had on people. The Family rep around town was still solid gold, despite all the internal bullshit going on.
“I didn’t know.” His voice was hoarse, sobriety scared back into him.
“I didn’t know,sir.”
It took him a second, but he repeated it when he saw I was dead serious. “I didn’t know,sir. Oh fuck, please don’t kill me.”
“Easy mistake to make,” I said, ignoring the plea, “wandering into a place where you’re not welcome. But you won’t make that mistake again, will you, Paulie? You’re going to forget West Hollywood exists. Otherwise I might find myself wandering down South Maple Street some night.”
He nodded his head hard against the bricks, his mouth slack and drooling a little blood.
“Get the fuck outta here,” I snapped. “Go on, fucking run, you dumb shit,” I added, as he tottered away on unsteady feet, heading down the alley in the opposite direction from the Beartrap.
I turned to make my way back to the bar and caught a shadow flitting across the opening of the alley. I went to red alert again for a few moments, but nothing came of it. No alarms, no cops, no problems.
It was probably one of my own fellow crew members. Legs Liggari wasn’t a clever man; he encouraged his crew to squeal on each other about minor infractions, and rewarded tattletales. It made for an atmosphere of suspicion and fear, not to mention lies running rampant. But Legs thought it kept him secure in his leadership to keep the crew at each other’s throats.
Like I said, he wasn’t a clever man.
Still, it was probably just as well I hadn’t killed that fucker.
CHAPTER2
JACK
I usually leftthe Beartrap Bar last on my Friday-night run of collections because I liked to stay awhile. The bartender was always glad to see me, and there was this pretty-faced guy who was often there to start off his night while I finished mine.
I liked having something nice to look at when work was over, to remind me of the brighter side of life.
Tonight, though, I’d had to take care of that little problem first, and when I came back inside, I couldn’t see the guy I was looking for. I picked up the envelope as usual from the bartender, accepted his grateful thanks, and thanked him in turn for taking care of my hat while I'd been outside. Then I had a choice to make. Head home? Or hang around?
I already knew the answer. My job left little time for distractions, and I wasn’t in the mood for flirting anyway, not after that blue-balling fight outside. It had left me dissatisfied.
I was picking up my hat to leave when my decision was reversed for me. “Here you go,” the bartender said, sliding me over a…I had to pause and look more closely at it. “Drink” would be one word for it. “Event” would be closer. There were cocktails and then there werecocktails; this one was three different colors and studded with an umbrella, a fruit stick, and two straws.
“Think you might have mistaken me for someone else,” I snorted, pushing the drink back toward him.
The bartender—Tim, he was called—grinned and pushed the drink back at me. “That’s what I said, too, but he insisted: ‘When that hot guy with the fedora hat comes back in, make him a Hollywood Harlot.’ So there you go. From your secret admirer.”
Secret admirer? The internal alarm bells began ringing faintly. “Who?”
“Relax. It’s that guy you’re always staring at when you come in. Here.” He pushed it a little further towards me.
“No, thanks.”
“You know, these are really fucking hard to make.”
I raised one eyebrow.
Tim sighed and pulled the drink back. “I’ll get you your usual.”
I’d already picked up my hat again from the barstool next to me. “Don’t worry about it.” The alarm bells had turned into sirens. Maybe I hadn’t been quick enough to spot the honey trap the first time the guy had started eyeing me, but I saw it now. Asifa guy that good-looking would ever take a second glance at me.
I was already turning for the door when that piece of heaven slid right in front of me.
“I was only trying to say thanks for taking out the garbage,” he said. “But if you really won’t drink it, at least sit with me whileIdo.”
I looked him over, and he preened a little. He seemed to think I was taking in the sights. I was, but I was also wondering about concealed weapons.
