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“No, we wouldn’t. We can do it a floor at a time. Find someone.”
“Yes, boss.”
“I’ll be using my booth tonight. Make sure it’s ready.”
“Will do.”
I nodded. “Good. I’m going up to see Jake.”
Kirill bowed his head, moving aside to let me pass. I went to the lift and up to the attic floor where the administration wing was housed. Accounting, HR—all the men and women in suits labored from up there. Jake and I were scheduled to go over the accounts. Just because we were laundering money didn’t mean I didn’t want to make a profit.
Time flew as we looked over the gain and loss columns, and in the blink of an eye, it was eleven p.m. and time for the show to start. I could admit to being a little excited to see what Nora would look like in her outfit, dancing up on stage. I told myself it was because of the draw she’d inevitably be… but I knew better. I wanted to see her forme.
Maybe later, we could go back to my office and consummate this bitch. Then she could stop taking up so much real estate in my mind.
I emerged from the elevator and immediately spotted The Prophet and his entourage. Kirill had them well in hand, but I pasted a smile on my face and went to greet my guests. The Prophet ran the Mad Hoodlum Crips over on eastern Park Slope. He was a bit of a connoisseur when it came to men’s suits, and he liked his men to dress just so. He was pretty old-school, a believer in honor amongst thieves. On most Wednesdays, we played chess together in the park and talked business. The park was too open for this, though. I needed a place whereIcontrolled the environment.
He frequented my establishment quite a bit, but this was the first time I’d invited him to come, so it was understandable if he was confused.
“We need to talk,” I told him under cover of the music. “About the attack on me the other night.”
He frowned. “I thought it was just a drug deal gone wrong.”
“The drug deal was rigged I think, and the gunmen were too prepared to shoot.”
The Prophet frowned. “What are you thinking? Someone want your territory?”
“I’m not sure yet. Was hoping you’d heard something.”
He pursed his lips, thinking hard as he watched Margot—a tall, blonde, buxom pole dancer—spin round and round seemingly effortlessly doing Ankle hangs, ballerina spins and Allegra, her long legs in eight-inch heels making her seem as if she was as tall as the eight-foot pole.
“Streets aren’t saying much about it. Just that you wiped them out.” The Prophet kept his voice low.
I inclined my head in acknowledgement, taking a sip of my drink. “Yeah. That part is true.”
“So now what? You short a connect?” He took a hit of his toke, blowing smoke into the air.
I sighed but didn’t answer him. It was none of his business. We were friends, but that didn’t mean he needed to know all my problems. He gave me a shrewd look. “There’s a new player in town. Name of Tommy. I hear he came out of Chicago. Gets his supply from the Colombians.”
“What does he want in New York?” I asked.
The Prophet shrugged. “Heard Chicago got too hot for him.”
“Hm,” I said noncommittally. “Might look him up.”
“If you do, tell him I sent you.” He winked at me.
I leaned towards him, looking him in the eye. “Why? You getting a cut of any new business he does?”
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
I smiled. Yeah, The Prophet wasn’t about to tell me all his business either. Just then, I noted Kirill approaching with Jimmy Two Fingers and his lieutenant. The lieutenant seemed much more interested in Margot’s show than he was in taking in his surroundings.
“Streets are also sayin’ that Two Fingers wants to get in bed with the Dominicans. You down for that?” The Prophet murmured.
I gave him a look and shrugged, one shouldered. “No skin off my nose so long as they stick to their territories.”
The Prophet made a non-committal sound. We might’ve been cordial, but that didn’t mean suspicions did not remain. Two Fingers took a seat and nodded to us both. “Yo, guys. You met Mr. Michael Bruce yet?” he asked.
