Alexander

I promised to never beat my own child. I swore I would treat him differently than my father treated me, but this kid… Man, this kid tried my damn patience. Was I a little douchebag at fifteen? I massaged my temple with my tattooed hand before I asked him the question again?

“Kid, what did you say to me?” I tried being level-headed for once.

“I said, my teacher wants to see you.” He huffed like he had a right to. I should put him in the ring and spar with him. See if he talks to me like this again.

“See me about what?”

“I—” He cleared his throat. “I got into a little altercation with some punk kid that was making fun of my name.”

“Your name!” I yelled as I stood up, flipping back my office chair I was sitting in. “You scrapped a kid because he made fun of your name?”

“Yes!” this fool answered.

I narrowed my eyes at him. Only this kid was allowed to talk to me like that. If any of my men spoke to me like this, I would pull my piece out and kill them. I clenched my jaw looking up towards the ceiling and counted backwards from ten and then finally spoke.

“Fine, Paris. When do you I see this teacher of yours?”

“Tomorrow at ten in the morning. Don’t be late and please don’t threaten her dad.” He actually had the audacity to say that as if I was a low-life gangster.

“What am I a thug?” I shrugged.

Paris shook his head.

“You’re the freakin’ leader of the Turkish Mafiosi and you own basically all of Vegas’ streets and Nevada as a goddamn state. Don’t threaten her dad, seriously,” he said as he slouched further into the seat he was sitting in across from me.

“Fine. Now, get out and tell Tank to come back in here. Go to school and shut your damn mouth, Paris. I’m serious. No more fights.”

“Ugh fine, dad!”

“What am I deaf, kid? I can hear you. STOP YELLING!” I cleared my throat as I turned to pick up the leather chair I knocked over as if it was from the dollar store. I turned back around fixing my custom-made suit. I sat back down as Paris stood up. “Kid?”

“Yes, Dad?” he answered as he looked at me.

“Seriously, be good. No more fights. I don’t want that for you. You hear me?” I looked at him as he stared back at me.

He was a goddamn spitting image of me. He had Heterochromia Iridis like I did, except his left eye was gray and his right eye was sea-green, the opposite of mine. We had dark-blondish, brunette hair, his still growing in length. Our differences were that while he stood at five-ten, I was six foot six. His leaner, swimmer’s body was smaller compared to my lean but muscular build. I had a low-cut beard while he was still a boy going through puberty. He was like his mother, though not in character. He had her smile and her dimples. It pained me to look at him sometimes because he reminded me of a time when I thought I loved, but it was false. She left him on my doorstep and took off with her cop boyfriend who wasn’t under my thumb. If I could, I would spit on the ground just on account of thinking about her, but I wouldn’t do that, because he was there.

“Yes, Dad,” he grumbled as he walked out of my home office just as Tank walked in.

I watched as Tank came in and took a seat in front of me. He was exactly like his name; big like a damn tank, bald, dark-skinned, the opposite of me, and almost my height.

“Boss,” he greeted me like this every morning.

“I need you to check out a couple of the new runners on the streets. I’m hearing some little drug dealer is trying to sell to kids? We don’t do that. Not now, not ever. Also, get me Frederickson? He’s been ditchin’ my calls for a few days now. He thinks I pay him for what? I need to know what’s going on at the station. Where’s Sherri? I need her to tell me when I meet with the Senator.”

“She’s waiting for you in the car. You’ve got an appointment with him in an hour. He’s messed up again with one of the girls at the strip joint.”

For the second time, I rubbed my temple.

“He knows those girls make their own rules and choices. He doesn’t just get to touch them like he owns them. How far did he go this time and with who?”

“He put Annalise in the hospital.”

My head jerked up to look at Tank causing some tendrils of hair to escape the low bun. I grinded my teeth just thinking of his hands on her like that. Annalise was a beautiful girl with a kind soul, and he hurt her? I wasn’t running some sick, demented joint where he could just do whatever he wanted to the girls. I inhaled then exhaled.

“Tell him to meet me at the club.”

“Which one, Boss?”

“Lust, and change the meeting until later on tonight. Bump up the meetings with the other clubs. I want to make sure everything is going okay.”

“Okay,” he said as he texted it all to Sherri.

“I need a drink,” I exclaimed.

“It’s eight in the morning.”

I looked at Tank and narrowed my eyes.

“Mario, it’s hard to raise that little douchebag, and yes I just called my own son a douchebag,” I said to him as I chuckled.

“Look, Alex,” he said dropping the title of ‘boss’ easily as we grew up together. Mario “Tank” Harlow was my best friend. “You’re doing a good job. Granted the kid is a bit of a douchebag, yes, but he is a good kid and you know it. He’s fifteen. This ain’t gonna be his last fight.”

“Yeah, yeah thanks, man. I just…” I stopped talking and looked up to the ceiling.

“I know. Our dads weren’t the greatest examples, man; but look at us, we are better than them. You have never treated Paris the way your dad treated you. You actually care about that boy and his well-being. His mother was an absolute nightmare, but I’m glad she left him with you instead of taking him and being selfish like she always was.”

“You’re right; I just hope his teacher doesn’t want to suspend him tomorrow,” I said as I straightened and stood. “Let’s get this show on the road, man.”

“Alright, Boss,” Tank said as he smiled, revealing his pearly whites.