“What the fuck do you thugs want, barging into my store like this? I’m an honest man, I pay my taxes! Isn’t that what you jobless fucks tout about defending all the time? Get the fuck out of here!”
“Come on, Mickey,” I say, the world’s fakest smile on my face. “We haven’t paid a visit in a long time, and that’s how you’re gonna say ‘hello’? We just thought we’d stop in and check in with you and your valued employees since we’ve got nothing else to do today, isn’t that right, Eva?”
“That’s right,” my Vice concurs, “I hear one of them has a bun in the oven, is that right? Thought we’d congratulate the expectant mother.”
“Funny thing is, Mickey,” I say, “I didn’t see her on the way in, but I did see a new face at the ice machine. His English isn’t too good, but I’m sure you’re helping him out with that, aren’t you? After all, everyone knows you’re a generous kinda guy.”
The look in Mickey’s eyes is positively glowing with fire.
“Alright alright, get off my ass, shithead,” he snarls. “I know what the fuck this is about, so cut the bullshit.”
“You want me to cut the bullshit?” I laugh while some of the club checks through the bottles on the shelves idly, but I know it’s a ruse—their eyes are watching the entrance and the employee doors for signs of trouble.
“That’s rich, Mickey, real rich. Alright, so if you wanna cut the bullshit, let’s cut the bullshit.” I step towards the counter, taking my hand off my gun and resting both palms on the surface in front of me, my face about a foot away from Mickey’s scowl.
“Why don’t you explain to me why, the second the suits from Washington start cropping up in town, you think your ass can get away with firing a couple of honest employees and hiring a couple of immigrants you pay a third of a living wage in their place? Why don’t you start with that, huh?”
“I ain’t gotta say shit to any of you Russkys.”
There’s a quiet confidence in his eyes, like a smug, petulant child who knows he has the teacher on his side in the middle of a playground scrap. I know it’s because he feels safe with the FBI around town. And I know that to some degree, he’s right in that security. One fed happens to be driving by the shop right about now, and we’d all be in the slammer before sundown.
But I’m not going to let that threat stop me. Not when there are folks’ livelihoods at stake.
“Look, Mickey,” I say, my voice becoming deadly serious, “let me put it this way. Now, I know you think you’ve got your ass covered with the big boys from out of state coming around town to clean out thugs like us, but it isn’t gonna work that way. Unless you like the idea of having trouble with the club,” I give a sharp nod towards me crew, “then you’re gonna give those two employees you just laid off their jobs back. And they’re gonna have the exact same pay as they had when your slimy ass kicked them out.”
“Boss?” comes the voice of one of my men, but I’m focused on Mickey.
Mickey starts laughing as though I’ve just played right into his hand.
“That so? Well, sure, I won’t mind doing that, so long as you go tell those hardworking immigrants outside I’ve gotta fire them ‘cause the local gang doesn’t like anyone hiring outsiders.”
That pushes the wrong buttons for me. Faster than Mickey can get another word out, my hand flashes forward and snatches him by the collar, pulling him close as he gasps in surprise. Guess the old fart didn’t think we’d so much as touch him. I don’t even hear one of my men call my name again from near the door.
“Oh no, you sniveling little shit,” I snarl at him, “things are gonna change for them, too, but for the better. Not only are you going to keep them on, but you’re going to pay them a fair wage, too. Not a cent less than what you hired the other two employees at. Think you’re going to get away with cutting corners at poor workers’ expense? Fuck that. You’re about to become the most generous man in the neighborhood, Mickey.”
“And just what the fuck do you think you’re gonna do about it, you potato-eating good-for-nothing?”
His voice is unwavering, but with our face so close, I can see the glint of doubt in his eyes. He’s starting to doubt that the threat of the FBI will keep things from getting real, and fast. My fist clenched, and I open my mouth to retort.
“PREZ,” Eva shouts at me, and this time I turn to look at her just as the door to the liquor store swings open.