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Smash_ A Stepbrother MMA Romance(122)

By:B. B. Hamel


Unfortunately for Thom, he was the perfect fall guy. Trusting and stupid and loyal to a fault, he’d be willing to jump on a grenade for the mobsters, even if they continually overlooked him for promotions within their organization.

Worst of all, he didn’t make that much money, especially considering the amount of risk. As I pulled up in front of his dingy trailer, it was clear that Thom was a stooge in their whole enterprise. For a long time I felt bad for him but didn’t say anything about it, since I needed him to help facilitate the deals and to get me paid, but maybe it was time to try and push him. He had already begun to notice the changes that were happening in the mob, and maybe that would make him a little more inclined to change.

I parked the truck and waited a minute. Usually he came right out when he heard a car pull up, often drunk and almost always with a rifle. Not many people got up around his area, and that was how he liked it. But as I sat there, his trailer remained completely dark.

I climbed out of my truck and walked up to his door, pounding on the cheap tin metal. The sound vibrated through the whole rickety structure, but clearly nobody was home.

I checked the time. It wasn’t late, which meant that he was probably out getting fucked up somewhere. I didn’t feel like going home and coming back, though, so I did the only reasonable thing I could think of.

With a piece of bent chicken wire I found lying around his property, I jimmied the front door, catching the locking mechanism and yanking it free. Breaking into trailers was pretty easy since most trailers didn’t have anything worth stealing. As I pushed my way into his place, I knew Thom was no exception.

The first thing I noticed was the smell. It was dank and heavy, almost like a musk, but with a tinge of rotting garbage. It wasn’t horrible but it was pretty uncomfortable. Immediately I grabbed a window and yanked it open, hoping the outside air could clear the rank space out.

The next thing I noticed was the mess. He had dishes piled in the sink, trash all over the floor and counters, and other shit just strewn about. It looked like he had never cleaned it, not even once, and he probably didn’t even mind the stink. The trash and shit explained the smell, obviously, and it was a wonder that Thom could even survive in a place as rank as this.

I pushed through the crap and poked my head in the bedroom, just to make sure. The sheets on the bed were a tangled mess and there were more dirty dishes piled next to the bed, plus a bunch of empty beer cans thrown all over the place. Still, the bedroom was empty.

I made my way back into the main room and cleared off a spot near what was supposed to be the kitchen table but was really more like a giant ashtray and trashcan. As I looked around, it made sense why he was so protective of his shitty little trailer out in the middle of nowhere. He was probably too embarrassed of the place to let anyone see it.

I pulled the gun out of my pants and set it down on the table next to me. I made sure it was loaded and ready, though I wasn’t sure why. I had no reason to harbor any ill will toward Thom; if anything, he had come through for me time and time again. But he was my best direct link to the mob, and if someone could help me out of the mess I was in, it would have to be him.

I leaned back and crossed my arms. It was going to be a long night.

I had no clue how long I sat there in the dark thinking about what was happening, but eventually headlights spilled in through the windows from outside and I heard Thom climb out of his car.

“Who the fuck’s here?” I heard him say. He walked up to his door and rattled with the handle before pushing it open. “Who’s fucking truck is that?” he said to himself.

“Hi, Thom,” I said softly.

“What the fuck,” he shouted, nearly jumping out of his skin. “Climber?” He turned on a light and a weak yellow shine filled the room from a single overhead lamp. “How the fuck did you get in here?”

“It’s not hard to break into a trailer.”

He stared at me, clearly torn between anger and total confusion. He and I were on good terms, but those good terms could go bad real quick and he knew it. Thom may have been a stooge, but he understood how these things went, or at least he understood enough to survive in the mob for as long as he had.

His eyes drifted toward the gun I had placed conspicuously at my side, and they went wide. “What the fuck is up, Climber?” he asked.

“Just wanted to talk.”

“Why’d you bring a gun to talk?”

I smiled at him. “You know that bullshit everyone always says, Thom. It’s just for protection.”

He paused. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Come inside.”

He pulled the door shut behind him and cleared off space on the bench across from where I was sitting. He slowly lowered himself down with a slight grunt. I realized he was a little drunk.