“Speak of the shit for brains.” I tuck the phone away with a huff, stomping toward the door. Fabian chuckles. “Precisely why we willnotbe using falcons for this job,” I grumble. “Being trained by the best doesn’t make you second best. Apparently, neither does fucking nepotism.”
Fabian huffs, “So… should I keep researching?”
“I’ll be in touch,” I grunt an ambiguous response at him, because I’m frustrated and one more question or glaringincompetence could earn the nearest body a bullet to the kneecap.
Everyone thinks beingel jefe grandemeans you just sit back and reap the benefits. Suck back fancy liquor, smoke cigars, and get lots of head, while the money just rolls in.
Sure, all of that happens. But it doesn’tjusthappen.
I’m expected to handle every problem when they can’t figure it out, which is often, mind you. I can intimidate them all I want, but at the end of the day, they’re like children. No matter how scared they are of you, they’ll still come to you crying when they scrape their knees, expecting you to kiss their boo boos…
Then tear to shreds whatever hurt them.
Once in the car, I make a call.
“Jefe…” Josué Goncalves—we call himG—answers on half a ring.
“Cuál es el problema?” I growl into the phone. Not trying to hide my irritation in the slightest.
If anything, I’m laying it on thicker than I’m feeling it.
“So… it’s Jo and D,” his voice shakes. “They went off the grid like twenty minutes ago, and I have no idea what they’re doing.” My head falls back as I rub my eyes. “I tried calling Mateo but he’s ignoring me now too.”
“Brooklyn,” I mutter to the driver, who nods in the rearview. “Where were they supposed to be?”
“They were covering Staten Island, but last I checked they were at the drop in Red Hook. Near the Ikea… That’s Prince’s turf. He’s gonna be pissed if he finds out they’re encroaching—”
“G, G, G…relax, por favor,” I sigh. “Let me worry about all that. Right now, what I need from you is to understand why this is something you felt the need to bother me with… Being that handling them is supposed to beyourjob.”
“Jefe, I swear, I didn’t want to bring this to you!” He’s panicking.It’s kind of cute.“I’ve been telling Mateo they werefuck ups since he brought them on, but Prince knows them or some shit, and he won’t listen. I don’t think he’s telling you about all their issues…”
I blink hard at all of this meaningless childish schoolyard bullshit.
“You understand who I am, don’t you?” I growl, and he goes quiet. “Tu sabes? This is like calling Steve Jobs when your iPhone stops working… May he fucking rest.” I’m seething, and I’m sure he can hear it, because he’s been effectively shut up. “Spanking dealers is beneath me, darling, so let me ask again… Why are youreallycalling me about this?
“I… I, um…” He stutters.
“You can do it, precious. Whatever you think I want you to say is correct.”
The line goes silent once more, until he finally mumbles, “I was hoping you would… encárgate.”
Handle it.
“There you go.” I grin. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
I hear a breath of relief.It’s premature.
“Their blood will be on your hands, chico,” I hum. “As will be the Prince’s reaction to all this, so I hope for your sake that your conscience, as well as your body, can withstand the repercussions of going over their heads.”
Hanging up on him, I grumble to the driver. “Ikea in Red Hook.”
Then I shoot off a few texts. First, to Mateo, my man in Medellin, who’ssupposedto have all of this shit under control. Then to Mateo’s brother, Alejandro—we call him Prince—to let him know his coworker has grievances he’ll want to work out. And finally, one to Max, whom I would consider my best lieutenant, letting him know that the Prince brothers are driving me insane and it’s his fault.Allof whom are responsible forbabysitting these idiotas, so they need to know that I’m on my way to go do their jobs for them.
This will have many people shitting their pants tonight, globally.
Good. They deserve to sit in shit for bringing me out to goddamn Red Hook.
I wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but I do enjoy returning to the streets on occasion… Getting my hands dirty. Not that my hands aren’t regularly pretty filthy, but the thing about my current position is that I do very little of the heavy lifting, so to speak. The day-to-day is handled by my vast network of lieutenants and henchman—at least, it’ssupposedto be—which leaves me out of the pounding pavement, and skulls, I used to spend much of my time doing as a youngster. And in truth, sometimes I miss it.
