Chapter Two
Cruz
I looked up from my whiskey glass, my cold blue eyes fixing the older businessman sitting opposite of me with an intent stare. “How much?” I said in a soft but deep monotone.
“You heard me. Listen, I’ve had a look at your previous work and spoken to your...references. I know this isn’t the type of contract you usually take. And I may be being damned paranoid, but I can’t shake the feeling that the risk is greater than you or anyone else suspects.”
“Right. So, this isn’t simple babysitting, knocking some sense into some over-friendly jocks. I know, Andrew.” As I spoke, I saw my potential future employer flinch.
“How the fuck?” The older man leaned forward, his hand reaching for the panic button under his desk. “I never told you my name, did I?”
I leaned back, trying to relax my muscular frame into as non-intimidating of a position as possible for someone standing 6’ 5” and weighing 260 lbs. “You don’t need to press that. I’m on your side. Plus, your name is on that certificate over there.” I gestured with my glass towards the faded yellowing certificate on the far wall a good ten feet away.
If I was being completely honest--which I never was, especially when trying to impress or intimidate--my eyes weren’t that good. I’d heard of the heat this guy was facing through some old mob contacts. The sort of contacts you needed when you were an ex-vigilante slash criminal-turned-gun for hire, mercenary, bodyguard--hell, I’d do a fucking dog protection service if the money was right.
I had even managed to find out his address, name, and a good idea of what his pretty daughter looked like from squinting at her almost-private social media pages. From what I could see, she was about an eight. Maybe a nine after a few drinks. I had fleetingly found myself wishing I was a few years younger, but immediately stopped those thoughts right in their tracks. I knew what happed when I got involved with women--trouble. So, I vowed to keep this one strictly professional. Besides, I knew this man’s daughter was probably way out of my league.
“Truth is, Andrew, I’m good. I’m really fucking good. That’s why I’m expensive, right?” I took another gulp of whiskey.
Jesus, this is nice stuff. If this is what he keeps in his office to offer to muscled scarred thugs, I wonder what he keeps in his private collection? Probably fucking gold plated bottles, I thought.
I leaned forward on my elbows, my t-shirt barely managing to contain my bulging biceps and chest muscles. I raised my left eyebrow, knowing it would accentuate the scar running along it. I knew I looked mean and hard as fucking nails. “I know the heat you been gettin’. I know the type of hardcore criminals who want in on what you develop. And these guys don’t fuck around. Good thing is, neither do I. I shoot first and ask questions later. And I ain’t bad in a fistfight either. And when I say I ain’t bad, I mean I ain’t never found no one who can beat me.”
I drained my whiskey and Andrew poured me another, his gaze not lifting from my face. I had his full attention and knew he was either impressed, intimidated, or slightly jealous. Probably all three.
“Thanks,” I said, raising the glass. “Last one for me. If I drink more than three, bad shit seems to happen, even if I ain’t looking for it!”
I took a smaller gulp and continued my sales pitch, not that it was needed. I just enjoyed attention-- especially the kind this guy’s dolled-up secretary with the nice butt and tight top had given me in the waiting room. I wasn’t looking at her, but I knew she kept looking at me.
“So, let me backtrack some,” I continued. “I took the liberty of doing some research and called in some favors. I’m a step ahead of these bad guys. And let me tell you, nine out of ten of them won’t even come close ‘cause I still got favors I ain’t called in yet. I helped a lot of people out in the past, see?” I winked. “And I’ve done this shit before, tangled with the sort of bad dudes breathing down your neck. And I won.”
Andrew averted his gaze, composing himself. “Very impressive,” he muttered.
Yet, my charm hadn’t worked for long. He sat back up straight, resuming his businesslike demeanor more quickly than I’d expected; he was tougher than he looked. But then again, you’d have to be to sit in an office all day, year after year.
“Like I said earlier,” he continued, “I did my research too. Not, uh, in the same way as you, but still. I thought you were good before you walked in here. Now I know you’re the man for the job.”
He stood slowly and held his arm out, his palm slightly facing upward. Passive, but not to be ignored.
I stood with one fluid and graceful motion, particularly for a big man who’d had three whiskeys. As I towered over the businessman, his eyes widened, clearly impressed. I grabbed his hand firmly, but not in a bone-breaking way. “All right,” I said. “Consider me hired. Now, you probably don’t have me down as the type of guy, but I’m legit these days. So I’m gonna need a contract and 10% upfront. Expenses, right. Ain’t putting that shit on plastic!”
I gave him what likely appeared to be a smile, grimace, and smirk all in one, trying to break the ice, but probably looking like I had indigestion. Smiling didn’t come easy for me since, well…since my wife ran out with the fucking Fed-Ex guy. Or milkman. The details didn’t matter too much. Last I heard, he didn’t walk too good these days, whoever the fuck he was.
Again, I forced the thoughts from my mind. It wasn’t time to dwell on the past. Plus, I wasn’t a fool these days.
“I’ll swing by tomorrow afternoon to get the contract,” I said. “I don’t do snail mail, email, or fucking text messages, for that matter. Like to stay under the radar. Makes my job a damn sight easier an’ all. I trust that’ll be enough time for your pretty secretary to type something up?” I jerked my thumb behind me, gesturing to the door.
Andrew laughed. “Her? I pay her to answer the phones, look pretty, and flirt with any old businessman I think might be trouble. Works as well as you’d imagine. So, no, I’ll do this one myself.”
I barked a short laugh. “Fair enough. ‘Least you know it’s done right the first time, eh? I know exactly what you mean. Don’t get far in my line of work unless you trust number one, and those handful who have proved they ain’t corrupt as fuck or morons. Or both. Those are the worst.”
He half turned on the way back to his desk, pausing to pass me a parting gaze. “You know what? I think our jobs might be more similar than you think. You just described high level corporate bullshit in one sentence! I’ll have to remember that line…” He sat back down in his plush leather armchair and nodded my way. “Until tomorrow, then.”
I nodded, guessing that meant, ‘Fuck off now, we’re done here.’
I left quietly, feeling the secretary’s gaze on me as I passed through the outer office. Probably a sight for sore eyes, all the stiff, sleazy old business types that come through here. I gave her something to look at, walking slowly past her, brushing my slick, greased hair back with my left arm and flexing my bicep as I did so. The sleeve of my tight black t-shirt ripped. I paused at the door on the way out, bending down to re-tie a shoelace which didn’t need retying.
I’d be rude not to give her something to fantasize about later, I thought with a smirk.