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“Good, then come with me. Is there anything you need to collect?”
I blinked a few times, trying to figure out what was happening. I knew, but my brain kind of checked out for a second. “My lunch bag?”
“I’ll buy you a new one. Mr. Loft resigns, effective immediately. Come with me, Tristan.”
“What?”
“Ajax.”
Ajax took a step toward me. Not in a menacing way, at least as little of a menacing way as a person of his size could be. He held his arm out in an invitation to follow Jordan, who was already halfway out the door. I had a feeling if I didn’t go with them of my own accord, they’d make me.
Two very expensive cars were double-parked in front of the store. Jordan got into one while the door was continuing to be held open for me by an older gentleman with gray hair. Ajax and Bruno stood beside me until I got into the car with Jordan. The older man closed me inside and the scent of expensive cologne and leather surrounded me.
Within seconds, we pulled away from the curb.
“My car,” I said.
“I’ll have your belongings removed from it and the car will be donated. I’ll buy you a new one.”
“Donated?”
“Yes, to a charitable organization in need of used vehicles. Unless you’d like to go back to working in retail, you’re employed by me now.”
That was when my eyes nearly bugged out of my head, and I almost swallowed my tongue. “But...”
“I require a new stylist. Mine passed away last month. He was loyal and only served me, but age wasn’t on his side. I’m offering you the position.” What was happening?
“But you traffic drugs and firearms and do all kinds of other illegal shit.” Apparently, I showed my intelligence by pointing out the obvious to the mafia boss of East Dremest.
“I’m well aware,” he said dryly. “Your position will be separate from that side of my business. You’ll get paid bi-weekly and even get a tax form to remit every year. It will be as legal as your current job.”
“But you’re... and I’m...”
“Tristan, I’m handing you an opportunity here. Dash may not trust me, but Romeo does. By you being in his life, you’re in mine and I take care of those who are mine. Now, do you accept the job?”
My immediate response was to decline. He was Jordan Altair Sr. I didn’t want to get involved in his business. Then again, Romeo was in his life, and he was fine. No one tried to kill him or even connected him with Jordan. “I’d like the same anonymity Romeo has,” I said. “No association on the outside.”
“Done. Even your tax form will be from one of my legal businesses. No one will be the wiser.”
Did I just accept a job with a notorious mafia boss?
17
ROMEO
“Fuck you!” I yelled and was about to throw my controller but thought the better of it. Some asshole killed me and now I had to start all over again.
The house would have been quiet if I wasn’t currently trying to shoot my way out of the apocalyptic scene I was in. Bullets flew, blood splattered, and I pushed my character to run as far and fast as he could. The game didn’t take a lot of brain power, more a quickness of my fingers over the controller.
With the noise on the screen, I didn’t hear the back door open or people enter the house until Jordan stood in front of me with his arms crossed.
And die. There went my character. Again. This time it was Jordan’s fault, not mine. He blocked the TV.
“Was that necessary?” I asked.
I didn’t have to be at the club until tonight. My late morning and afternoon were for me and me alone. Tristan was at work and Dash was practicing with his band. They had a local concert tomorrow night and were getting in another session, or whatever they called it, before tomorrow.
“I brought you a gift,” Jordan stated.
