Chapter One
Harris
Itook my glasses off, pulling a cotton cleaning wipe from my trouser pocket that I kept on me. Wiping them, I didn’t bother looking up as I spoke. “I honestly don’t enjoy this, but you leave me no choice.”
Vern, a red-eyed ghoul, squirmed in his seat in front of my large oak desk. My right hand, Paulo, a large dark green orc with a bald head, pressed his hand down on Vern’s shoulder to still him. “Look, I’m sorry, Boss. It’s all a misunderstanding. I won’t do it again,” Vern cried, eyes pleading as he gripped the seat of his chair.
It was the same thing with these types, and it was getting old. You hired someone to do something that you shouldn’t have given a break in the first place. They inevitably betray your trust,and then you were forced to be the bad guy. Rinse and repeat until you die. I had no idea how my father could stand it for so long. Then again, he was less patient than I’d been so far.
I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t enjoy the violence, mostly because I found it boring and messy. And I hated to put such energy into lost causes, and Vern was definitely a lost cause. I would have just tossed him into the ocean to be eaten by sharks, less to clean up, but I needed to prove a point.
I put my glasses back on, stuffing my wipe in my pocket. “I’m not interested in anything else you have to say,” I began, my tone as bored as I felt. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to pay back the money you skimmed off the payments you were collecting with interest. You have two days to do it.”
He opened his mouth, exposing sharp, yellow teeth, making his pale skin seem almost sickly. I did not like ghouls; nothing personal, I just found most of them to be stomach-churning, what with having a diet of eating dead bodies.
I raised a hand. He really had nothing to say that would get him out of his situation. I would kill him if I thought it wouldn’t damage the reputation I was trying to build. I was so sick of this life. Of the treachery, backstabbing, threats, risks, and violence. However, this was the world I had been groomed to rule. Once my father passed, it came to me. I was the eldest and did not have the option of walking away from the family business like my brother, Marcus, or never entering it at all, like my youngest brother, Sam. I was the one to keep this corrupt dynasty going. However, I had plans underway for a better life. But it required that I remain powerful and not let creatin like Vern take advantage of me. If I did, the word would get around, and others would continuously test me for weaknesses.
I folded my arms and leaned back in my leather chair. My patience was wearing thin, and I had places to be. “You don’t payit back in full, with interest, in two days, you will never see the light of day again.”
Vern slumped his shoulders, looking resigned. He was beginning to see that arguing with me would be futile. I had warned him not to fuck me over. Perhaps my drive to find an alternative path for our organization had led others like him to see me as weak. Not a problem. I’d fix that.
I pointed to Paulo. “Paulo will have someone accompany you 24-7 until I get my money. Which will be no later than 5 pm Wednesday, right?”
Paulo squeezed Vern’s shoulder, and the ghoul winced under the pressure. “Right.”
“Perfect. And then we can discuss what happens to you next. Now get the fuck out of my office.”
Paulo yanked Vern out of the seat. Despite his betrayal, I’d had my people go easy on him, and Vern was barely touched. Just a black eye, broken nose and ribs, a dislocated shoulder, busted kneecaps, and a pinky finger I had sliced off. It wasn’t as awful as it sounded. He was a paranormal being like the rest of us and would heal quickly. Well, except for the finger. That would be his reminder to never take from me again. Assuming I didn’t kill him. I hadn’t decided what I would do after I got the money. Might depend on how I felt that day.
I watched with disgust as Paulo led him out of my office, shaking my head. If I were going to change things, I would have to have better people working for me. And I couldn’t continue to punish them with violence. Unfortunately, our world only understands violence. And changing that felt like a losing battle.
My brothers were lucky. Only a few years ago, my brother Marcus had been my enforcer. He’d, understandably, got burnt out from that life. A life he’d lived since he was a young teenager, having worked under my father as the muscle when he used to run things. Now, Marcus owned his own tattoo parlor and wassoon to be married to a beautiful, respectable woman. He even had a friend who was a cop. And not a crooked one either. His life was as close to wholesome as it could be, all things considered.
Then there was my youngest brother, Sam. Our parents had spared him from any part of this organized criminal life. Well, more like my father saw him as weak and turned his back on him, and my mother had babied him as a result. He’d gotten the best education and was allowed to waste his life away being spoiled and directionless. It was only in the past several months that he’d finally gotten himself together.
However, I was the oldest, and happiness was never my option. Although Marcus stepping away was major, he did it after the untimely death of my father. I was certain that had my father still been running things, Marcus would never have been able to leave the life. Perhaps that made me too soft, but I had certain limits that my father never had. Like not forcing anyone to live this life like he’d forced Marcus and me when we were way too young. It had changed Marcus. Hardened him when he was still a happy kid. My father had groomed me for this life since I could walk. Happiness for me was measured in precious moments that I received all too rarely. It was the commodity my father bartered over my head when I was growing up. Not money but happiness. Calm moments when I could be the actual child I was.
I spent half my childhood being afraid he would come and rip it away. End it all before I was ready. Stop the movie before me and my too few friends were done watching. Change his mind about me going to the prom. Shorten my curfew because I had to come home early and handle some business. College allowed me only a limited escape because I still had to live at home. Under his thumb. I wouldn’t say it was a relief when he died. However, the ever-present tightness in my chest did loosen up. If only alittle. He was still my father, whom I respected, but love for him was a conflicting emotion I still could never reconcile. He was a cold and often cruel man, even to my mother. We were things to him. Pawns on a chess board that he could move how he wanted.
My cellphone buzzed, and I picked it up, seeing my brother Sam’s name across the screen. I swiped it on to answer. “Yeah.”
“Dude, I’m at the bar, where are you?” my brother cried.
I looked at my watch. I was late. I knew I would be, but I should have told him. “Still at work.”
He sucked his teeth. “Bro, what am I supposed to do?”
“Have a drink and wait,” I replied, standing up. “I’ll be there in less than thirty minutes.”
Before he could respond, I ended the call. For as much trouble as he caused me with all of his shenanigans, the least he could do was wait for me this one time.
I exited my office, which was located in the back of my high-end, luxury club on the top floor. It wasn’t a nightlife spot but more of an urban country club. It was three levels, with a state-of-the-art gym, spa, restaurant with indoor and outdoor seating, heated outdoor pool, basketball court, barbershop, and hair salon. A relaxation and networking venue, one-stop got my customers all access by paying a pricey monthly fee. However, I made sure it was worth it, with perks and a clean, sophisticated atmosphere. Mostly, it catered to diverse professionals with disposable income who might otherwise never go to a typical country club located on a golf course. Philadelphia had enough of a clientele that made the business successful. Most importantly, it was lucrative.
I walked further back to a door that led to a private parking area for myself and staff and exited. The sun’s rays slapped me in the face, and my glasses transitioned to shield my light-colored eyes from the sun. Summer was just beginning, and it wouldn’t be dark for a while despite it already being after 6 pm. I loosenedup my tie and shrugged off my dark blue suit jacket before getting into my SUV. It was pristine, just like I kept everything around me. People would think what they wanted about those engaged in organized crime, but I was never messy, uncouth, or gawdy. There were times when I felt I didn’t have much control of my life, but in this, I ruled. It might be borderline OCD, but just a touch. Although my brothers might disagree.
I got to the steakhouse I was meeting Sam at with just enough time to catch the end of happy hour at the fairly busy bar. It was one of my regular haunts, but I'd chosen this spot for another reason. I looked around for the face I was seeking but it was hard to see through the crowd of people. It was busy evening in the popular space. All sleek wood, dark lighting, heavy curtains with low jazz music playing, and TV screens filled mostly with sports and news. The crowd was a mix of paranormal and human professionals and tourists there for the acclaimed steaks.
When I saw my little brother, he was already seated at the bar and draining back the last of a short glass. Sam and I resembled each other the most. Angular features, a Roman nose, icy blue eyes, square jaw. We were tall with toned physiques, and our skin was a lighter shade of green than our middle brother, who was built like a wrestler and was slightly taller than us. The major difference between Sam and me was the hair. He wore his short, messy, and cropped on the sides. I wore my hair long and straight, usually braided back or in a low bun. We were nearly ten years apart, but, like most paranormal beings, we aged incredibly slowly. I believe it was how I carried myself that anyone even knew who was the oldest. Sam was carefree, even now that he’d finally gotten his life on track. I…not so much. Such behavior could mean death for me. At least with my current lifestyle.
