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I mime laughing. No one calls me that. That name is reserved for Brunello, who has well-earned the head of the household respect.
I don’t answer Crystal’s question because it doesn’t matter. It never matters if I’m okay because I do my job either way.
I pull out a wad of cash and leave it on her vanity. “Thanks for trying. I’ve got to get out of here. I’m locking up tonight, so grab your stuff and let’s go.”
There’s nothing spookier than a strip club at four in the morning. It looks like a filthy ghost town with no music, no women on the stage, no illicit deals being made under halos of smoke and cover of shadow. The stage looks sad and hollow, and the crimson-lined chairs match the sentiment.
I wait for Crystal to leave out the front door and then lock up, wishing I could escape a portion of the tension in my body before heading out to the next job.
But wishes have never done me much good, so I head to my black sedan with tinted windows, shutting myself inside while texting my team where to meet me in twenty minutes.
Ready or not, here we go.
2
I’m not a huge fan of window work, so Benny handles breaking the picture window of our fence’s duplex. “You’re sure this is the right one?” I ask Benny, checking the address. It’s a wide house, with two doors a few feet apart on a shared porch. The addresses aren’t over the respective doorways, but are one atop the other, leaving us to guess which home is the dealer’s and which is his neighbor’s.
Benny nods, and beats the thick glass until the thing shatters inward. “This is the one.”
Could we enter in through the front door? Of course. But that’s not how we do things if we want to leave a lasting impression. If Brunello doesn’t get his money, then the fence we trusted to handle this deal doesn’t get to keep his perfect window. It’s hard to find reliable employees these days.
Honestly, this is a job I could handle by myself, but I brought Paul and Benny along because I always adhere to the Moretti Family Rules:
Rule One: Never leave the house without a loaded weapon.
Rule Two: Don’t go in without backup.
Rule Three: No girlfriends. We can’t have any distractions that might compromise the organization.
I wait until Benny busts out a big enough hole and then clears the glass so I can get through without damaging my clothes.
I hear a scream, but no sound of children, which is a relief. I hate dealing with scared children.
Benny brings his bat and Paul has his gun in hand. If it was a second visit, I would bring the entire team, but as this is a courtesy call, I only need my two regulars to get the job done.
I take long strides through the living room, which is tidy with an affinity for pink pillows on the purple couch.
Strange.
Most of our people don’t spend their money on home décor, but on lavish trips or, if I’m being honest, they take their money to the south side and blow it up their noses.
That sort of habit doesn’t leave a home pretty, like this one.
I stalk down the hallway, my gut churning because something feels off about this job. “Benny, are you sure we…”
But when I hear a woman whimpering from one of the rooms down the hallway, I know we made a grave error.
I hold my hand up, stopping Benny and Paul so they don’t go in with weapons blazing. While it’s their job to draw gunfire from me, I don’t think that is the situation I’m walking into.
My form fills the doorway of what is clearly a woman’s bedroom, complete with pink curtains and a flowery bedspread. The lights are off, but I can see a trembling visage in the moonlight that sneaks through the thin curtains. “Please don’t hurt me!” she sobs.
Shit.
I keep my voice level to appear assertive but not aggressive. “I’m looking for Greg Bender.”
She shakes her head and points to the wall. “That’s my neighbor. He lives in the unit next door.” She points to her dresser. “I have a g-g-gun in there, and I’m not afraid to use it!”
My shoulders lower and I button my black Armani jacket to appear more presentable and less menacing. This woman is afraid of the sound of her own voice. There’s no way she could defend herself with whatever peashooter she has stashed in her dresser.
