Bomber moved through the club, glancing up at the DJ. Blackie stood on the outside of the booth, which was perfect for him, because he blended into the dark area upstairs. Jones was downstairs in the corner, his back to the booths, but Bomber knew he was well aware of what was going on behind him. He had passed Lucky and Burt coming in from the front; Jake and Don were at both sides of the bar. He nodded to Don, who nodded back. They already knew he was in the building.
Very smart, very efficient, constantly informed and aware. This was how he wanted them. He could make them into an army – they were, of a sort. They would all fall in and protect him if he only so much as whispered “Help.”
He walked over to Jake and nodded to him. He stood next to him. “So. Like the new kid?”
“He knows his shit,” Jake said. “Knows his place, too.”
“Good. I plan on seeing him in action Saturday.”
“Okay.” Jake wasn’t worried about himself. He and Bomber had a very good relationship with each other, and each knew secrets about each other that could get them both killed. Anilia and Jake were the only people Bomber trusted in his haven, and Bomber was the only one Jake trusted with his past. “Want me to tell him?”
“No. I’ll be in the office. Payette’s coming by on Saturday for dinner. Is Jennifer on the schedule?”
“Don’t think so.”
“I think he’d like Jennifer. She’s cute and new. He likes the new ones.”
“Speakin’ of…” He leaned his head in to speak quietly. “You know the French kid? Joachim?”
“Yeah?”
“He’s got a bit of an attitude with us.”
Bomber raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“He thinks we’re his personal bodyguards. He got in some guy’s face one night an’ we hadda bring the guy out. I know the guy; he’s not an asshole. He was here last night an’ din’t cause trouble.”
“Has Joachim done this before?”
“Think so. Only startin’ to notice. He makes sure we’re watchin’ him.”
Bomber frowned, looked out in the crowd. “Who recommended him?”
“He said he knew Boyo.”
Boyo was a bouncer, a very good one, until he moved up in the world and down to Georgia after joining the Marines at 25. Bomber had a picture of him in his uniform and a sincere thank you note for helping him get out of the crackhouse that he’d found him in. Instead, he got addicted to something else, and Bomber would send him a special care package every so often: a two-inch long vial full of dark, almost black liquid that was marked “chocolate”. If anyone opened the vial, it smelled like chocolate. It sure wasn’t chocolate and never showed up on any drug tests.
“I can drop him an email.” Bomber took out his Blackberry and started sending an email. He wasn’t sure where Boyo was in the world, but hopefully he’d be awake. “Is Joachim here?”
“Yeah, he’s in the little boy’s room right now. Been there for a while.”
“Check on him. Unless he’s doing a vip, no sex in my goddamn club.” He started to walk away and got to the doorway to the VIP room before stopping to check the Blackberry. He turned right around on his heel, with military precision, and said to Jake as he passed by, “I’ll do it.”
Jake knew what this meant. “Don?” he said quietly in the bluetooth, “watch the boss.”
“On it,” he said, keeping an eye on Bomber as he headed into the bathroom.
“Joachim,” Don heard him call. “Take the guy’s cock outta your mouth and get your ass out here.”
“I’m takin’ a shit!”
Don heard a loud bang, and immediately went to the entrance of the bathroom. Bomber was yelling, “Fuck you, you are! You’re shootin’ up IN MY BAR.”
If there was anything that Don knew Bomber hated was people doing hard drugs in his bar, patrons and employees alike. Pot was a different story; Bomber even did pot. But when it came to heroin or coke, Bomber wanted no part of seeing soimeone debase themselves for that.
Don saw Bomber drag the guy out by his scalplocked pony-tail, seeing also that his arm had a tourniquet around his bicep. The syringe was on the floor. Bomber tossed the kid against the sink hard enough for him to bounce. Bomber then picked up the plastic syringe and snapped it in half, spilling the juice all over the floor.
“Aw man, that cost me three hundred dollars!”
Bomber turned on him, and grabbed him again. Stuffing the bits of the syringe into the man’s pocket – probably stabbing him in the process – Bomber dragged the kid through the club. “Hey! Hey, this is brutality! HEY! YOU GOT NO RIGHT–”
Bomber slammed his face into a stool as he walked by and continued to drag him through. “MY NODE!”
Into the VIP room, up the stairs, and into his office. Don had followed up to the stairway, and asked over the comm, “Should–”
“Get An–”
But Anilia was already going past Don and up the stairs.
“Do you want to know what I heard about you, you little weasel?” Anilia heard Bomber yell at the guy. She stepped inside his office and closed the door, making it soundproof.
Don could see through the windows what was going on. “Anilia’s there.”
“C’mon back out,” said Jake’s voice on the bluetooth.
Bomber continued with Anilia there, “I heard you knew Boyo. So I sent him a little note, asking about you, and you know what he told me?”
“Wh…what?” asked Joachim, and looked at Anilia.
“He said, and I quote, ‘Don’t hire that mother fucker, he stiffed me out of a lease and ran out on his girlfriend after he knocked her up.’ You know what I hate more than addicts shooting up in my bar? Deadbeat dads.”
“I send her money! If I have any.”
“Which you don’t if you’re takin’ three hundred dollar fuckin’ hits.” Bomber turned from him, and went behind the desk. He took out a curling iron and unravelled the plug it was attached to. “When Anilia hired you, she told you what some of my requirements are, didn’t she? How you needed to stay clean while you were here unless a VIP told you otherwise, am I right?”
“I ain’t had no VIP’s.”
“Because you’ve been a prick, from what I heard.”
“That guy who came onto me was creepy.”
“What guy?” Bomber looked at Anilia who shrugged.
“An’ I don’t do guys.”
Bomber suddenly grinned. “You just might after this.”
Jake, still at the other bar, turned as he thought he heard a scream. He couldn’t tell over the music (Duran Duran, again? They needed someone new…) so he said, “Checkin’ in vip. Got this, Don?”
“Yup.”
Anilia opened the door to Bomber’s office as Jake was coming in. Jake looked at her curiously. She put a hand at the side of her neck, and went into the breakroom. She came out carrying a first aid kit.
Jake knew what that meant. Someone got their tattoo removed.
Words: 1203
Inspiration: What if they hire the wrong person? How do you get the mark removed? This is the hard way.