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Yeah… maybe he should.
Or maybe I should.
Only trouble was, her and me? There was no way that was happening. One, she fuckin’ despised me. And two, once Jack told her how he’d found out, she’d be terrified of me.
She’ll talk to me, Jack had said. She trusts me.
As I got on my Harley to leave, I had a flash of brilliance that almost made up for my earlier boneheaded mistake. I realized I knew somebody else she trusted, too.
She’d said it herself:
I’d fuck HIM before I’d fuck YOU, Lou. Any day.
Benjy.
All I had to do was convince my own simpleminded mole to get onboard, which was going to be the easiest goddamn thing in the world. And I could sweeten the pot, too.
She’s an addict… give her a little nose candy and she’ll be a lot more talkative.
One little pharmaceutical supply run, and I’d be in business, baby.
Fuck Jack Pollari.
Fuck Venus.
Fuck the DEA.
Fuck anybody who messed with me.
They were all going down.
94
Before I could put my master plan into action, though, something entirely unexpected happened: the bitch told him the truth.
Jack called me around 4PM. I was in my office at the Veils, and I was still pissed from earlier.
“What’d she say?” I asked sarcastically as soon as I picked up the phone.
“Turns out you were right.”
“Right about what?”
“She IS on Federal food stamps.”
It was code. He didn’t want to speak openly about it on the phone line.
‘Federal’ – had to mean the DEA.
I sat there in my chair, mouth gaping open. “…what?”
“I’m going to assume you’re just stunned that I’m admitting you were right.”
“What the hell?! She told you, just like that?!”
Jack laughed. “I told you she trusted me.”
I couldn’t believe this shit. It went against forty years of hard experience dealing with the whole goddamn shitty human race.
