She looks me in the eyes, then they dart up and down, sizing me up quickly. “I don’t think so,” she says.
“What is it?” I ask. “Don’t like men with tattoos?”
“I just don’t like trouble. And you’ve got it written all over you.”
With that, she walks away. I follow her with my eyes until she disappears from view as the door closes.
“Crash and burn,” Ares says, nudging me. “It’s just as well. Seems a little stuck up to me.”
“Yeah,” I say listlessly. Damn. It’s been a minute since anyone’s turned my head like that.
“So, what about that drink?”
“After. Come on, we’re expected.”
We walk across the dead club to the back area where Rodriguez’s office sits. Nobody stops us, partly because they know who we are, but mostly because security here is ridiculously scarce.Rodriguez once told me that he likes it when I and my guys come here, just in case somebody decides to be an idiot and causes problems. Never mind the fact that sometimes those idiots are in my crew.
His door is open when we walk in, and I catch a whiff of perfume. The same cloud that surrounded me when I ran into that beautiful creature at the door. Sweet, fruity, and floral. It hangs in the air like a calling card.
Rodriguez is sitting at his desk, peering at his computer screen. I can hear the mechanics of the tower under the desk, whirring like an airplane engine. The thing is probably as old as I am.
“Omar?” I call out. He looks up at me and his face changes. The scowl is wiped clean and he smiles with a little bit of panic in his eyes.
“Hey, Roman.” He gets up, straightening his dress shirt. “You’re early. I wasn’t expecting you until later tonight.”
“I was in the neighborhood.” I can feel Ares at my back. The rest of my crew meanders down in the club. They have orders to keep their noses clean while they’re here, but I know at least one of them is engaging at least one of the dancers downstairs. “How’s business?”
As if I’d pressed a ‘pay me’ button, he reacts, walking over to the safe in the far corner right behind him. “Good, good,” he says as he opens it, reaches in, and pulls out a thick envelope. “Titties always pay the bills.”
I nod as he hands me the envelope. “They certainly do. Thank you.”
I glance back at Ares to give him the nod to leave. “See you next month.”
“Actually, since you’re here,” he speaks up, a little shaky desperation in his voice, “there is something I wanted to talk to you about.”
“The cops haven’t been giving you problems?”
“No, no, not at all. Not since the last time,” he says. He’s rubbing his hands on his pants nervously. I’m not sure I like where this is going. “No more raids. I never thanked you for that, by the way.”
“You never did, no.” I pat the fat envelope against my hand. “Your payment is enough thanks for me.”
“Right, right. Well, anyway, I’ve been presented with this opportunity. There’s this company that my cousin has started. He’s selling this new cleaning product that you can use on any surface.” He rushes back to the safe and pulls out a cleaning bottle. He brings it over and hands it to me. “We’ve been using it in the bathrooms here. It cleans like nothing I’ve ever seen. Blood, urine, all kinds of gross shit. Cleans the tile and the counters like there was never anything there.”
The bottle looks like any other cleaning product I’ve ever seen. It’s clear with purple liquid and a label that reads,Cleantastic!in bold letters.
“Interesting,” I say, handing him back the bottle. “What does this have to do with me?”
“Well, he’s just getting started, you know. Trying to get his name out there. The thing is, he doesn’t have a lot of money.” Casually, he takes the bottle back and walks back around to his desk, setting it down among his papers. “And you knowhow much money it can cost to get a business started. You factor in materials and advertising. And space. He’s looking at a warehouse to start manufacturing this?—”
“You need money from me,” I say, getting to the point.
He pauses and nods. “Yes. Not a lot, though. Just fifty grand.”
I scoff. I hear Ares snicker behind me. “‘Justfifty grand?’ You think I just walk around with that in my pocket, huh?”
“Well, of course not,” he says with a nervous chuckle. “But you’ve got access to it. And I’m not asking for a handout. I’ll be good for it. We’re heading into the holiday season. That’s big money for me, as you well know. And I was thinking that if you fronted me the fifty grand now, I could easily pay you back by the season’s end.”
“Interesting proposal.”
