Cutter
“Woah, Smalls,” Cutter said into the phone in as even and steady a voice as he could get, “slow down, brother. Tell me exactly what's gone.”
His second-in-command didn't listen to his request. “They're all gone,” Smalls yelled. “Gone, dude!”
Cutter was still seated on the edge of the bed, wearing just his boxer-briefs. Through his sleep-induced fog, he couldn't make sense of what Smalls was saying. “What's gone?” he asked.
“Not what, dude!” Smalls yelled. “Who!”
“Who? What the fuck?”
“They took them all, dude! Cops came in with the health department a little while ago, wouldn't let me call you. They started arresting all the guys. Everyone that was here, man, they arrested and carted away!”
Cutter ran a hand down his face. This wasn't good. Without the crew, they didn't have a restaurant. And without the restaurant, they wouldn’t have the money to bail the guys out. This was the beginning of a vicious downward spiral, one that would suck down all of them, including Liona. “Fuck!”
“Fuck is right, man! We got breakfast in less than an hour, Cutter, and I don't know what the fuck we're gonna do. We got you, me, and Squirrel, since he's just in for lunch. We'll be lucky to get this place cleaned up, as is, but with just two cooks and a server? Ain't no way, man!”
Cutter shook his head. He didn't know, either. What could they do? They had everyone. They were lost.
“So what do you want me to do, prez?” Smalls asked.
Cutter sighed, shook his head again. “Just shut it down, I guess. Put a sign up, apologizing to the customers.”
Smalls sighed into his ear, a hard edge to his voice. He didn't like to admit defeat any more than Cutter did, but sometimes you had to make a tactical retreat in the face of overwhelming odds. Five people, they'd be fine. Four, maybe they could pull it off. But three? No way.
“Shit,” Smalls said. “You're probably right. Alright, man.”
“Just ... I'll be there in a bit, okay? We'll help you clean up and deal with any customers that wander up wondering what's going on.”
“Got it,” Smalls replied in a dejected voice. “See you in a bit.”
Cutter sighed again and hung up the phone. He tossed it on the bed next to him, his mind whirling with emotions and thoughts. Health department and cops? This had Wyland written all over it. So, now he had no men, no restaurant, and no way to make a legit living. He should have just killed the motherfucker when he had the chance the day before. He'd been so close. He could have just reached out, done the deed, been done with it. This was how the end must feel, he thought. He leaned his head forward and dropped it into his hands as he felt an ominous cloud of despair begin to descend upon him. It was thick, black, and oily as it came closer and closer.
Maybe it was time to run. Maybe it was time to just cut his losses, divvy up the funds, and call the Vanguard done and over with. He and Smalls could take Liona with them, ride out west, find another place to open shop. But, what would that accomplish? Wyland would just come for them there, no matter how long it took. And his brothers would still be locked up. What else could he do, though? He didn't have any options left. He didn't have any cards left to play, no tricks up his sleeve. He was just a man, after all.
The bed shifted as Liona sat up and pressed herself against his naked back. “Morning,” she said. “What's going on?”
He sighed and turned around. “Cops raided the diner, took everyone but Smalls in.”
“Oh no,” Liona said, putting her hand to her mouth. “What are we going to do?”
He winced. “Seriously considering closing everything up.”
She made a face, one of hurt, like he'd just killed her first puppy. She shook her head. “You can't do that.”
“Well, what can I do, babe? We can't run a restaurant without people. He's got us over a barrel. It's just me, Smalls, and Squirrel, and three people ain't enough to run a diner. And no diner means no money.”
“You got me,” she offered, an innocent, beatific smile on her lips. “I waited tables back in college for some extra spending money.”
“You did?” he asked, the wheels already beginning to turn. But, then they stopped, and he shook his head. “But, what about Wyland?”
“What about him? Sounds like he's already fucking up your world, like he said he would. If you leave, what will that accomplish?”
“Here,” Cutter said, “I can at least keep an eye on you, keep you protected.”
Her eyes flashed. “So, the solution is still to keep me here in a cage? All I did was leave one, just so I could be locked up in another?”
He shook his head, sighing. “No, babe. I just want to keep you safe, that's all.”
“Look,” she said, “the only way for me to be safe is for Wyland to be gone. Right now, he's untouchable, right?”
He groaned in dismay. She was right. He was damn near untouchable. And as long as Wyland was the assistant DA, he'd stay that way. Nothing Cutter could do would set them on an offensive foot.
“What you need to do is put him off his game,” Liona said. “You need to piss him off.”
“And, how do we do that?”
“Easy,” she said with a smile. “Pretend like it doesn't matter, pretend like he isn't get to you. He just gets more and more pissed, until he loses control and flips.”
Cutter thought about her recommendation. Actually, looking back at his friendship with Wyland, that was a good plan. Wyland had always been a sore loser and a bully. Back then, it hadn't been as noticeable, but little warning signs had been there.
“So?” Liona asked, still smiling as she watched the gears grinding in Cutter's head.
Cutter smiled. “Yeah,” he said, leaning forward to kiss her. “I think you're right.”
“Finally,” she said, kissing him for one, long moment. “I'm getting the credit I deserve.”