I WANT HIM found. I want him dead.
After the heist-gone-wrong yesterday, the crew split up and went their separate ways—Donny and Ricky going back to boosting cars like they were doing the day we contacted them to meet us at Club Aslyum, Rock went back to who-the-hell-knows, and Marcell went back to being the evil genius he is, probably in some lab computing ways to hack the online bank accounts of the closest major corporation. Nix and me, however, we’re on to a different job—finding Tim Sandusky and the people responsible for taking our money. My money.
As I pace around my loft, I can’t get the image of the heist being stolen from me out of my head. I can still see myself standing behind Hyperion Bank with my mouth wide open, jaw nearly touching the ground as I stood in awe of the robbery being carried out right in the middle of Girard Avenue by a crew of at least ten, wearing all-black and aiming AR-15s at passersby like they didn’t have a care in the world, as if everyone around them was totally irrelevant—and that ‘everyone’ included me. This is the kind of thing that can never be allowed to happen. This is not how kings are treated, and I’m a king. I’m the king. Whoever did this is going to pay, and there’s going to be a ton of interest on that payment that’ll come in the form of someone’s life, starting with Tim Sandusky!
I manage to raise a foot from the place it seemed cemented to in front of the enormous window overlooking downtown Philly, and walk over the dark hardwood flooring, past the red couch and loveseat and into the kitchen. I walk past the red barstools that are tucked under the bar counter and open a dark gray, custom-made cabinet next to the stainless steel refrigerator where I keep all of my liquor. I stare at the glass bottles displayed in front of me as if they’re my best friends in the whole world, but I’m disappointed that I have to choose one over the others. I eye them all, bypassing the row of Italian liquors, although the Fernet Branca and Amaretto call out to me. I scan over the row of Russian vodkas and decide I’m not in the mood for anything like that, and decide to go with a big boy drink on the top row of the four-shelf cabinet. After a deep breath, I reach for the decorative glass bottle of Bowmore 1957. It’s not every day a man decides to drink from a one-hundred-sixty-five-thousand-dollar bottle of scotch, but tonight is a special night, because I’m a special kind of pissed off. I grab a short glass from the cupboard, drop in two cubes of ice, and let the expensive scotch pour over the cubes, my mouth already watering from the look of it. I pour in two fingers worth and immediately knock it back, letting the liquid burn my throat so good all the way down, and I already feel a little calmer. After a breath to steady myself, I pour in three fingers, replace the cap on the bottle and walk over to the living room, where I sit down on the red couch and rest my glass on top of a coaster sitting on the edge of the marble end table.
Once I’m settled, I let my mind replay the scene over and over again until I’m sick from it. I see the black van waiting for the job to be stolen from me, the delivery boys lying face down on the hot concrete with their fingers interlocked behind their heads as if being instructed by the police, and the empty bus stop where Tim was supposed to be standing. We haven’t heard from him since the whole thing went down, so I’m left to assume that he had everything to do with how our job was stolen from us. I imagine him selling our entire plan to someone else, and it sets my blood on fire with rage. He is going to pay, I swear it. If he even has half an IQ, he’ll get out of Philly right now, and even then, we’ll find him. But the real question is who the hell he told about what we were going to do, because whoever it was, they pack some real fire power. It takes titan-sized balls to stand in the middle of the city and wave an AR-15 in broad daylight.
So who could it have been? I sip my drink and let my mind go to work as I stare straight ahead at my blank seventy-inch TV resting on it’s own marble table. I’ve heard of some up and coming crews from Mantua in West Philly who supposedly are making quite the name for themselves, robbing mom and pop stores in the neighborhood and doing some light extortion, but this feels too big for a crew that isn’t established yet. That’d be like Nix and me robbing Hyperion when we were sixteen. I had the balls to think of it, but there’s no way we would’ve had the means to pull something like that off.
There’s a bigger crew out of Hunting Park, but just like the gang in Mantua, they’re just too new. When your crew hasn’t even made it out of the hood yet, you don’t have enough experience, money, or clout to pull off a job like Hyperion. No, this is something much bigger than a neighborhood gang trying to come up. This is a crew who is established. This is a crew who has a ton of money and connections, and there’s very few I can think of who could do something like this and make it look so effortless, but there are a couple. There’s one in particular, actually, and if it’s them, everything is going to change. I won’t hold my tongue on it anymore, regardless of what Nix or Mason says. It’ll mean war. Admittedly, I’ve yet to know war. I’ve had my share of street beefs, to say the least, but not an all-out war between everyone I call an associate and whoever has gotten on my bad side. It’s something that excites me to my very core! I can only imagine what it would feel like to go to war with a worthy opponent, so I can let them watch everything they love burn to the ground around them as they die. Maybe there’s a part of me that’s hoping I’m right.
After knocking back the rest of my drink, I place the glass on the coaster a little harder than I mean to and it lets out a sharp crack. I can’t help it, really. I’m so frustrated that all of this happened, and sitting here waiting for Nix to contact me isn’t helping. The image of those four guys jumping out of the back of the armored truck with duffel bags stuffed full of my money haunts me like the ghost of Christmas past, but there’s something else that’s sticking with me, too. For the first time in my life, I let myself get distracted.
I’ve been doing this a long time, and there isn’t a person in the world who is better at being bad than me, but just before things started to go down, I saw something that was like kryptonite to Superman. I close my eyes and I can still see it. She walked towards us wearing a black leather jacket and blue jeans. Her blonde hair was swaying behind her as she stepped, and for just a moment, I was convinced it was her. Reina. Even sitting here thinking about her now, I feel a rush of unidentifiable emotions racing through my veins like I’ve just taken a hit of ecstasy. I don’t know if it’s love or hate that fuels my heart, forcing it to pump hard and fast, but I feel every bit of it, and it nearly knocks me over, even as I sit soundly on my couch.
I haven’t let myself think about Reina in years. After she left Strawberry Mansion without saying a word, it took about a year to force myself to stop thinking about her every single day. It was like I had to play tricks on myself just to learn how to let her go—to let an hour go by without thinking of her face or her hair or her smile. I had to keep myself busy by hustling, figuring out what jobs Nix and I could hit as fast as we could. It was my need to get over Reina that drove me to become the kingpin I am today. When thoughts of Reina crept into my mind, I worked. When I missed her, I worked. When I needed to feel her, to smell her, to taste her, I got on my grind, schemed, plotted, and worked. I pulled off job after job with Nix, nearly driving him crazy with my obsession, but I needed it. I needed to get out of Strawberry Mansion, no doubt. I needed to get out of Whitney’s house, for sure. But I needed to get over Reina more than anything else. I hungered for it, and it was that hunger that led me here. As funny as it sounds, I guess I have Reina to thank for my success, even though she wasn’t there to help me to it the way I thought she would be. Then again, maybe she was always there, in the back of my mind, in my heart, surging me forward, telling me just how great I could be. Maybe what I needed was to be as big as she always knew I could be.
Regardless of all that, I know I have to get over it. The woman I saw outside of Hyperion wasn’t Reina. She was just some cheap knockoff version with the wrong color eyes! Damn it! It wasn’t her, so I have to do whatever I have to do to get over what I thought I saw. Reina isn’t here. She’s still just as gone as she was when my mother died. She’s just as gone as she was when I avenged Whitney’s death by committing my first murder. She’s still gone, and I can’t allow myself to be weakened by thoughts of her, so when my phone rings, I find comfort in knowing it’s Nix. It’s work, and I’m anxious for the distraction.
“Put a smile on my face, Nix,” I say as I place the phone to my ear. Nix clears his throat the way he always does when he has news, and I can already feel my smile forming.
“Meet me outside,” Nix says, and I can hear his own excitement coming through the other end. “I found Tim.”
Germantown is in Northwest Philly, about a ten minute drive from where I grew up in Strawberry Mansion, and just like the rundown neighborhood I was born in, Germantown is a hellhole. It’s a low income neighborhood that’s been trying to get better over the years, but the crime and drugs in the place have kept it down, just like Strawberry Mansion. As Nix and I drive through the streets, I recognize the familiar symptoms of a poor neighborhood where people commit crimes to feed their families. On one corner there’s a liquor store, where five or six downtrodden people stand outside and sip from their brown-paper-bag-covered bottles right in front of the store, stumbling and slurring their speech. On the other side of the street is a gun store, ready and waiting for any person with enough cash to waltz right in and get themselves some ammo. Places like this and Strawberry Mansion are kept this way on purpose, which is why every ghetto or bad neighborhood is never in short supply of liquor stores, gun stores, and rundown schools. Just driving through here reminds me of how I lived in my mother’s house, struggling to keep from giving up and killing myself simply to avoid feeling the shame and sadness of being perpetually broke. Every dilapidated house is a reminder of my past and how I fought, scratched, and clawed my way out of it all. But I have to push those thoughts aside, as lovely as they are, because driving through Germantown isn’t about me. Germantown is about Tim.
Nix presses the gas pedal in his Denali as we cruise past homeless people who look up as we drive by, wondering who we are and assuming we’re drug dealers, because only drug dealers have nice rides in neighborhoods like this, unfortunately. I look out the window at the houses and wonder which one Tim Sandusky is sleeping in right now. It’s just past midnight, and I assume he’s sleeping in one of these decrepit shacks, but when Nix turns into a decent driveway and a two-story house stares back at me, I’m taken aback. I’m not sure what I thought when I saw Tim in his little hoodie at Club Asylum, but I didn’t expect the nicest house on the block with a navy blue BWM in the driveway and a thick glass door that I’m almost certain is bulletproof. I didn’t expect the lights to be on upstairs in what looks like a fancy bedroom.
As we park, I look up to the second floor window that has it’s maroon curtains pushed to both sides of the frame, letting all of the light out without a care in the world. The kid has his life on display in a neighborhood like this? That kind of nonchalance can only mean one thing—Tim Sandusky is a somebody in this neighborhood. He leaves his windows open because he knows there isn’t a person here who would dare attempt to steal from him.
“Nix, I thought you looked into this kid,” I say as Nix kills the lights and shuts off the engine and the two of us stare at the house, occasionally looking into the upstairs window, waiting to see if Tim makes an appearance.
“I did, and I didn’t know he had it like this,” Nix replies, rubbing his hairy chin. “Maybe it’s not his place. His parents died in a car accident, remember. Maybe it was theirs.”
“Could be,” I reply, immediately running out of patience. “I really couldn’t care less whose house it is. Let’s go pay him a visit.”
Nix nods his head and the two of us step out of the vehicle, closing the doors as quietly as we can since the window is open. We creep up to the house, not even bothering to see if anyone is watching us, and just as we’re about to reach the front door, there’s a loud bang from the upstairs window. Nix and I look up to see a brunette woman standing in the window completely naked. She looks over her shoulder at something behind her just as she bends forward and grabs the window sill. Out of nowhere, Tim Sandusky comes into view behind her. He’s naked too, and Nix and I see him reach down between his legs and slide himself into the brunette. Right in the window that the whole damn neighborhood can see into, Tim starts banging this brunette from behind. She lets out loud, unabashed screams that echo into the night air, and Nix looks at me with nothing but pure bewilderment on his face.
“Arrogant little prick,” I snip as my frustration starts to get the better of me. It’s one thing to ruin a job of mine, but it’s something else to do it and then come back to your house and have sex in the window without a care in the world, as if you didn’t just steal from Solomon King! He’s not cowering in the corner of his room with the shades drawn and a gun in each hand, praying I don’t come bursting into his house and snatch his life from him with a smile on my face. He’s fucking in the window!
I’ve seen enough, and I turn to check the doorknob to see if my suspicions are legit, and sure enough, it’s unlocked. What a brave little sonofabitch. Today he’ll learn not to be so foolhardy.
Nix and I walk right into this cocky bastard’s house in the middle of the night like his home is ours. All of the lights downstairs are turned off, but I can tell the place is nice. Even through the shadows and darkness that are cast upon every piece of furniture in the place, I can see fancy couches and a huge grandfather clock in the living room, a marble countertop in the kitchen, and thick, white rugs lying on the floor in front of the stairs leading to the second floor.
The darkness can’t hide the fact that this kid is obviously doing better than we thought he was, but as we approach the stairs, I’m suddenly struck by a memory that catches me off guard. Suddenly, I remember walking through Reina’s house after I picked her up on prom night, saving her from that asshole she was with—Charlie-something, I think. I can still see the two of us tiptoeing through her gigantic house in the same part of Philly I live in now, as we made our way to her oversized room. I remember how it felt being with her that night in her bed, and I remember the heartbreak I felt when she suddenly fell off the face of the earth.
As Nix and I climb the stairs of Tim Sandusky’s house, I’m filled with a plethora of emotions and I can feel my nerves standing on end as we take our steps as quietly as possible, trying to catch the young, pompous asshole off guard. When we reach the top of the stairs, his room is the only one with the light on at the end of the hall, so we head that way. I struggle to push my emotions back down as Nix draws his gun and quietly chambers a round, and now the sound of the woman moaning and letting out a string of profanity is nearly as loud as it was when we first saw them outside. We stop as we reach the door, and Nix looks to me, waiting for me to lead the way as I always do. This is exactly the type of situation that puts a big smile on my face, and I grin at Nix and wink before slowly turning the knob and gently pushing the door open.
The room is pretty big, with a large bed in the center that’s encased in a wooden frame with long poles on the end that nearly reach up to the ceiling. There’s two wooden dressers that are covered with jewelry and neat lines of cocaine, and a black leather couch in the corner that has a shiny, wet residue on the seat, which I assume is from the brunette woman who’s now lying down in front of the open window with her legs high in the air. On top of her is good ole Tim Sandusky with his slick black hair, skinny body, and chiseled smug face. He’s lying on the woman pumping up and down like his life depends on it, and I can tell from the sweat pouring off of him that he’s high off of the cocaine that’s on the dresser. He’s focused and dripping sweat onto the woman’s face, but she doesn’t seem to mind, as her own sweat is soaking into the white carpet. Imagine how comfortable this asshole has gotten in his life that he has left his house totally unsecure, and doesn’t even notice when two men come in and stand in his doorway. I don’t even want to be that comfortable. I’d rather be cautious and keep everything I love.
Since Tim and the brunette aren’t paying us any mind, I leave Nix standing in the doorway like a bouncer from a nightclub, and walk into the room. Tim keeps pumping, the woman keeps screaming, and I take a seat on the edge of the bed. I pull an old switchblade out of the pocket of my black jeans and press the button on the red handle, exposing the three-inch, silver blade with a loud snap that catches Tim’s attention. He finally stops pumping as I set the knife down on the bed next to me and look over at him, and I see the recognition in his eyes, followed by the fear. I smile at him, and he freezes, staring at me without even acknowledging Nix, who hasn’t taken a step from the doorway.
“Hi, Tim,” I greet him, still smiling.
“Solomon,” is his reply as he slowly starts to stand up. It’s then that he notices Nix in the doorway, and I see his eyes scanning the room, either for clothes or a weapon.
“What the hell is this?” the brunette asks with a surprising attitude as she sits up on her elbows and glares at Nix and me. “What the hell are you guys doing in here? Tim, what the fuck? I don’t do orgies, okay! What made you think I’d be okay with sleeping with your friends? Damnit Tim, you’re never satisfied, are you?”
“Shut up, Valerie,” Tim snips without looking down at her, and she does as she’s told, confusion still resting in her brown eyes.
“Valerie, what a pretty name,” I say, still sitting and smiling. “You’re a pretty woman, Valerie. Nice tits, too.” Valerie seems to suddenly realize that she’s naked in front of total strangers and looks around the room for something to cover herself up with. When she goes to stand up, I stop her. “If you move, I’ll cut off both of your nipples.” She instantly stops moving and stares at me, wide-eyed.
“Don’t do anything stupid, Solomon,” Tim says, and I’m almost caught off guard. Bravery? Boldness as I sit on his bed with this knife next to me? Courage in the face of me? I’m honestly surprised, and it pisses me off to my core, but I don’t let it show. No, that’s not how I play the game, and that’s exactly what all of this is, a game. My game.
“I’d be very careful of what I say if I were you, Timmy,” I reply with a smile.
“You have no idea how deep in you’d be if you did anything to me,” he replies, straightening himself out and letting out a sigh.
“Is that right? Oooh, I like being deep in,” I answer with a quick glance at Valerie, who replies by lifting her hands and covering her decent-sized breasts. “I wonder how deep I can shove this knife up your skinny little ass.”
I pick the knife up off the bed and stand up, but Tim throws his hands up in defense.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, unless you want to start a war,” he says, trying to mask his fear with faux confidence. It’s an interesting statement to make, and it gets my attention.
“A war? Interesting, Tim. If I cut you and Valerie up into tiny pieces right here in your room, who exactly would I be going to war with?”
Tim takes a deep breath and stands up straighter, as if he’s wearing a fancy Italian suit instead of standing here with his little pecker out in the open.
“You kill me, and my uncle will kill both of you,” Tim replies with a grin. He’s confident, and I think we’re about to find out why. I feel my own sense of anticipation creeping up.
“Alright, Timmy, I’ll take the bait. Who’s your uncle?”
“My uncle is Dante Rossi.”
And there it is. That’s why Tim is standing here like he isn’t concerned about me at all, because his uncle is the underboss of the Scarfo family, the mob that has its hooks in every part of Philly. I look over at Nix, and I see the concern all over his face as he wrinkles his forehead and twists his mouth. Shit.
Sensing the stress that’s now wafting off of Nix and me, Tim smiles, and the insecure, innocent kid who presented himself to us at Club Asylum disappears. He morphs into a confident man who doesn’t have a hint of fear on his face as he looks back at us.
“Put some clothes on, Val,” he says, to my surprise. “He ain’t gonna do nothing.”
My eyes bulge. He thinks he’s running the show now! The brunette smirks and confidently gets up. She struts past me to the other side of the bed, where she picks up a skinny black dress and slips it over her naked body, her hard nipples still visible through the thin material. As if that wasn’t surprising enough, instead of leaving, she takes a seat on the black couch, making sure to avoid the wet spot. Valerie sits down, flips her long, brown hair back behind her shoulders, crosses one leg over the other, and looks out at the three men in the room with a sneer across her mouth. Wow.
“Your uncle is Dante Rossi?” Nix suddenly asks, drawing my attention back to Tim who’s now moving towards the dresser to his left and picking up white boxers from the floor. He slips them on and locks eyes with Nix.
“That’s right,” he replies.
“How is that possible? I looked into you,” Nix says. I can hear the disappointment in his words. He missed something, and that never happens.
“Guess you didn’t look deep enough,” Tim says. “I can only assume you looked into my background and found my parents, who weren’t criminals. My dad wasn’t into anything illegal, and he made sure I had nothing to do with the life my mom’s brother, Dante, was involved in. My dad, Steven Sandusky, was a simple businessman. He worked at a bank with my mom, Victoria Sandusky, and both of them worked hard until they died in a car accident five years ago, when I was eighteen. My mother’s maiden name was Rossi.”
That’s how Nix missed it. The kid’s mother got married and changed her name from Rossi to Sandusky. Damn.
“After they died, my uncle reached out to me,” Tim continues. “He felt terrible about what happened to my mother, and he just couldn’t shake his need to take care of me somehow. I knew what he was into, and I knew my dad would’ve hated it, but Uncle Dante was the family I needed at the time, so when he called, I came running. I did whatever he needed me to do, and the next thing I knew, I was making money and a name for myself. But I wanted to go bigger. I wanted more. That’s where you come in, Solomon.”
“How’s that?” I reply, calmly.
“You’ve been doing really well out there in the streets,” Tim says, still standing in front of the window in his boxers with all the poise in the world. I envision myself running over to him and pushing him out the window to his death, but I hold it in. It’s my game. “Your success has really grabbed the family’s attention. Did you know that?”
I don’t answer.
“Angelo, and especially my uncle, don’t like that. They don’t like that you’ve been hitting banks and whatnot, so close to places they own. They don’t like that you’ve developed a reputation. Truth be told, this is their city, I mean our city, and you’re doing too much. They’re not gonna stand by and let you take what’s theirs, regardless of what people say about you. So, after your little stunt at Philly First National Bank, they were fed up. They decided to use me against you. They asked if I was cool with infiltrating your little operation and reporting back to them. It was them who sent me to go see you that night in your club, and you took the bait, just like that.
“I can’t tell you how thrilled I was when you called and asked me to go rob Anthony for that ten grand. You should’ve seen me, I was giddy! Especially when I told my uncle, and he immediately called Detective Mason and told him I was coming, and to play along. It was brilliant, and it worked like a charm. You were so anxious for me to prove myself that you never even saw any of it coming.”
“The thing with Mason wasn’t real?” Nix asks, shocked by the admission. Me? I’m not shocked. I’m furious. Keep spinning your web little Timmy. I’m going to knock it all down!
“It wasn’t,” Tim replies with a smile that nearly sends me over the edge, but I contain myself once more. “I never shot him. Of course not! The guy’s a detective and he works for Angelo! If I shot him, I’d be dead before the sun could rise the next morning, I’m not stupid. I went to his house and met him in front of his garage, where he handed me that backpack, knowing all along that I was going to give it back you, gain your trust, and use it against you. We didn’t know it would happen so fast, but the whole Hyperion thing was just too good, too lucrative for my uncle and Angelo to pass up. So instead of standing by and letting you make that hit, I told them all about your plan and they simply executed it themselves, all while you watched. Ouch. I’m sure that stung, huh Solomon? Oh well, it wasn’t anything personal. Just family business. I didn’t think you’d roll up in here ready to slit my throat with your little knife so soon, but it doesn’t matter. You can’t touch me, knowing who I am. Your best bet is to call my uncle up and beg for his mercy. After all I’ve heard from them, that’s the only way you come out of this thing alive. Otherwise, they’ll kill you and everyone that’s ever worked with you.”
I stare at Tim with tranquility in my expression as the ferocity of the storm brewing internally grows with every passing second. Who the hell does this kid think he is to tell me to contact his uncle in order to keep from being killed? Does this prick not know who I am? Have I not made enough of a name for myself as someone not to be played with? His little bitch is sitting behind me with her arms crossed and an impatient look on her face as she watches us, waiting for Nix and me to leave with our tails tucked between our legs. She looks at me like I’m inferior to her boyfriend, like Nix and I are school children and Tim is the principal. She doesn’t know whose world this is. She has no idea how close she is to death just by sitting on that couch. Tim has no idea what he’s done by infiltrating my team and driving distrust and betrayal into the heart of what I do. This won’t end the way they think it will. I promise it.
“Solomon,” I hear Nix call to me, but it sounds muffled as blood rushes in my ears, drowning him out. I turn to my right-hand-man and see him glaring at me. He can read my mind, and we communicate through nothing more than facial expressions. He’s always been hesitant when it comes to the Scarfo family, and it has always gotten on my damn nerves. He acts as though they’re untouchable since they’ve been around longer than we’ve been alive. I don’t care. He is yet to realize that it’s he and I who are untouchable!
“Look, Solomon,” Tim pipes up again, still not satisfied with his perceived victory. “The truth is, you got played by my uncle, but you should consider it a compliment. There are tons of criminals in this city who steal and do dirt, but out of all of them, you’re the one Dante and Angelo see as being too big. You’ve made a ton of money, and your reputation is just as legit as they said it was before I ever met you. But that’s over now. Get out while you still can. Call my uncle, strike up some sort of deal, and close up shop before they force you into retirement.”
Close up shop before they force you into retirement.
A smile forms on my face as I let my right hand calmly reach for the knife on the bed next to me.
“Solomon,” Nix calls for me again. “I know what you’re thinking, and I hate to admit it, but we need to make this call before we do anything else. We can work with them.”
I look over at Nix and glare at him, showcasing disappointment in what I’m seeing and hearing from him. He’s been my partner in crime since the beginning, and I’ve never known him to be afraid, but what he says now sounds a lot like fear. He’s doing it on purpose, and when I lock eyes with him, we know the same the thing. I’m Solomon King. I bow to no man, and I’m not looking to acquire a new business partner.
“Hey, you should listen to your friend,” Tim agrees with Nix with a nod of his head, his slick hair bouncing with the movement. “If you play your cards right, maybe you can stay in business, maybe work for Angelo. I think they’d be cool with that.”
“Do you?” I finally speak up, my nerves tingling with excitement. “You think they’d be okay with us working for them? I mean, we could really bring in a lot of money. We could make their enterprise so much bigger with the added revenue we bring in. Oh yeah! You think they’d be cool with that, Tim?”
“Absolutely,” Tim answers with a reassuring smile, all of his worries have left the house. “Don’t let this whole thing be the end, strike a deal and make money with us. That’s perfect. Imagine the money we all could make if you worked for Angelo and my uncle. Hell yeah, Solomon. Just make the call, and I bet you could work out a big deal. Hell, tell them I brought you in—convinced you to join up with them. It’ll be huge for me. We all can win, Solomon!”
“Yeah? You sure?” I ask.
“Most definitely. Dante and Angelo are businessmen just like you. I know they’d be down for it.”
“Oh man, that makes me feel so relieved!” I chirp with a broad smile. “Phew! Alright, well then I guess we’ll get out of your hair—let you two get back to it! You two lovebirds!” I let out a boisterous chuckle that makes Tim jump. “Come on Nix, let’s go make that call.”
Nix stares at me, unmoving, as I grip the switchblade and turn towards the door. After a step towards Nix, I stop on a dime, turn on my heel, and rush towards Valerie, who’s still sitting comfortably on the couch. She barely sees me coming as I step towards her with my arm swung behind my back and the switchblade gripped tight in my fist. In a flash, I jam the three-inch blade into her stomach as hard as I can, and give it a twist for good measure. I hear Tim let out a scream that’ll surely wake the neighbors as I let go of the knife, leaving it stuck in the brunette’s stomach. Blood begins oozing out of the wound slowly at first, then it picks up speed and starts to look like she’s really going to need to some medical attention.
“Valerie!” Tim screams as he comes running across the room to his whore’s aid.
As he reaches us, I spin around and punch him square in the jaw, knocking him backwards, then I lift my right foot and send my black Timberland boot flying into his balls. He lets out a high pitched chirp and drops to his knees before falling completely over, clutching himself. Valerie whimpers behind me as tears start to flow from her pretty little eyes, and the look of impatience and confidence melts off her face just like her makeup.
Nix stands silently as I take a knee next to Tim and speak directly into his ear.
“Tisk, tisk, Timmy,” I whisper as I reach down and pull loose one of the hands he’s using to hold his balls. I grip his pinkie and ring finger in my fist and bend both of them backwards until they touch the back of his hand, then violently twist them towards his thumb. The result is a gruesome and beautiful double snap, followed by a blood curdling scream from Tim. He’s yelling so loud I actually have to slam my hand over his mouth to shut him up.
“If you scream again, I’ll break every damn finger you have, then I’ll go for your toes, and the last thing I twist off will be your little prick,” I tell him as I drop his twisted hand to the floor. “You pulled one over on me, Timmy. Made me look bad in front of my company, and that’s a no go. The only reason you’re not dead already is because I listen to my good friend, Nix. He wants to sit down with your uncle, and I’m open to that, but not to discuss a partnership. We don’t have partners. I will, however, discuss the return of the money your uncle’s crew stole from Hyperion. That money belongs to me, and if they don’t give it back, everything will change. This is not the Scarfo’s city. It’s mine, and I don’t reach out to people to strike deals, you arrogant little shit! Your uncle will reach out to me, or I’m gonna come back here and set your house on fire with you and your slut still inside. I’ll tie the two of you to your bed, and set a fire on the first floor so that you can hear it coming for you while you lay here on the second floor. You’ll smell hell creeping towards you and you won’t be able to do a thing about it. I’ll make sure you suffer much worse than you’re suffering right now. This is child’s play compared to what I’ll do if your uncle doesn’t reach out to me. Understand?”
Tim nods his head as sweat pours off of his face. The combination of pain, fear, and cocaine are overloading his senses, and it wouldn’t surprise me if the little bastard had a heart attack right here on his floor. That’d be a sight!
“Good,” I reply with a smile. I lightly tap Tim on the cheek before standing up and heading towards the door. Valerie is clutching her bloody stomach on the couch, still breathing and whimpering, full of terror as she tries to lean back away from me when I move. That’s the proper response when I’m around. If she lives through this, she’ll never be confident around me again, and she’ll never forget the day she met Solomon King.
I smile at Nix as I approach him, and he lets himself release a sly smirk of his own with a playful shake of his head. He knew I wouldn’t let Tim get away with all of that talking. I’m a man of action. When were kids, Nix told me to be careful where I stole from, because we didn’t have the power to deal with the Scarfo family at that time. We’re not kids now. The days of standing in front of Nix’s house, pondering where we should strike are over. We’re grown men now, both of us twenty-five. We’re multi-millionaires, and we have more associates than the Scarfos have a clue about. We won’t hide from anyone, and the only partnership we have is between the two of us.
Nix turns on his heel and exits, and I follow behind him just before looking over my shoulder.
“I’d get my ass up and put pressure on Valerie’s wound if I were you, Tim. Otherwise, she won’t be alive for the next time we meet. See you soon!”
The last sound Tim and Valerie hear from us is my loud, boisterous laughter echoing throughout the house.