Rock Chick Reawakening (Rock Chick 0.5)(9)
“For what?” Brady asked.
“I’ll explain that when I sit down with him,” Marcus answered.
Brady got closer.
His man was tall, lean, cut, pretty-boy features, light-brown hair, all of this hiding his ability to get a variety of jobs done in a variety of creative ways. In other words, however he needed to do it to get it done.
He was uncomfortable, not with what he said next. Marcus had no problems with the people he trusted around him speaking their minds and Brady knew that.
He was uncomfortable with Marcus making any moves that might be unsafe.
This didn’t happen often. In fact, it happened rarely and only when the need arose. But Brady was protective in more ways than it being part of his job description to protect his boss.
Marcus had bought that loyalty not with money but with something only men like him and Brady knew was much more precious.
“Mr. Sloan, we don’t know dick about that guy.”
“If you think that’s true, you haven’t been paying attention,” Marcus told him, his tone not harsh, simply informative. “He hasn’t been on the scene long but he’s made quite an impact in the time he has.”
“I’ve heard about him. I’ve heard he gets the job done. I’ve also heard his dad is a cop. Veteran. Years on the force. His brother is also a cop. So is his best friend, Chavez. And Chavez’s younger brother, no one knows what that guy is. All they know is that Hector Chavez is a wild card and anyone with links to a wild card like that makes me uneasy.”
“Nightingale’s other best friend is Darius Tucker.”
Brady gave a nod but said, “He’s still untested.”
“Then we’re going to test him.”
Brady held his gaze only a moment before he nodded.
Marcus continued to issue orders.
“You’re on me, as usual. I want Louie on the streets. The other men stay on task. But keep Vince from this.”
Brady’s mouth got hard and he nodded.
Marcus’s man Vince had his uses, they were valuable, but both Marcus and Brady had had reservations for some time about the man.
Louie seemed able to keep him in check, however, so those valuable uses could be put to work without causing hassle or headache.
With no further words, they moved out of the club.
Brady opened the back door to the black sedan limousine that was waiting only feet from the entrance of Smithie’s. Marcus folded in.
Brady closed the door, rounded the car, and sat in the front seat next to Marcus’s driver, Ronald.
Through this, Marcus pulled out his phone.
He flipped it open and made the call.
“Yes, Mr. Sloan,” his secretary Kelly answered.
“Smithie has a dancer. Her name is Daisy. Find out her address and send her a bouquet of daisies. A large one.”
“Daisies?”
“Daisies. A lot of them.”
“I’ll do that right now, Mr. Sloan.”
“Every day.”
“Pardon?”
“Send her a bouquet every day. Starting today. Not the same color. But the same size.”
“Right. Every day. Not the same color but large.”
“Very large.”
“Of course, Mr. Sloan. Anything else?” she asked.
“Not right now.”
“Okay, then. I’ll take care of it.”
“Thank you, Kelly.”
“My pleasure, Mr. Sloan.”
He flipped his phone shut and drew a breath in through his nostrils.
He was trying unsuccessfully not to allow what he saw on that tape to run through his head.
As he was unsuccessful at this, he flipped his phone open again and made another call.
“Marcus,” Shirleen Jackson answered.
“You or your nephew find him, you bring him to me.”
There was a moment of silence before she replied, “That’s not the deal we just made with Smithie.”
“I’ll handle Smithie.”
“You got chops, Marcus, but the angry black man who just stormed outta my house is not a man I’m thinkin’ even you can handle.”
“They’re close,” he shared with her.
“Know that. He didn’t say it but I think I got it. But that only makes it worse. Bottom line, she’s a Smithie’s girl and she got raped in his own goddamned parking lot. Doesn’t matter to him she came back because she forgot something so he didn’t know she was on the premises. Only matters to him that his shit-for-brains security guy left the cameras so his waitress girlfriend could give him a handjob in the handicapped bathroom stall. This means he was gettin’ off when he should have been at his post, catchin’ that shit and shuttin’ it down so it didn’t happen. Wasn’t Smithie who got a handjob but he’s takin’ that all on his shoulders. He’s feelin’ a weight and that shit is heavy. So like I said, this is not a man who can be handled and I’m not thinkin’ that’s gonna change any time in, hmm…I don’t know, say the next century.”
“How many children does Smithie have, Shirleen?” Marcus asked.
“I can’t keep tabs. Brother keeps addin’ to his army,” she muttered.
“Regardless, I’m sure they’d prefer him running his club and not serving twenty to life.”