Catching a whiff of the stripper’s perfume, I’m pulled from my thoughts of Cherry, which only pisses me off.
“Listen up, Diamond, Mercedes, Daffodil, or whatever name it is you go by. If I have to tell you one more time to go away, I’m gonna put a gag in your mouth, handcuff you to the stage, and tell everyone in here there’s a seven-dollar hooker looking for a train ride. You FEEL that?”
Immediately, she stands up and walks towards the bar. “Asshole,” she mumbles and it’s all I can do to stay in my chair.
I take another sip of my club soda and go back to ‘watching’ the stage. I’ve been waiting for over an hour for my informant to show up. Add to that I still haven’t gotten my daily report from Saint, and I’m in a terrible fucking mood. I feel like a junkie waiting for his next fix, my fix of Cherry. Three months I’ve been away from her. Three fucking months. Hell, I did eight years in the pen, three months should be nothing. But after having her, tasting her, I’ve only made my obsession worse. Sometimes I feel myself slipping into a dark place, doing what I’ve been doing these last few months, and then I think of her. It’s like she’s my talisman. She tames the beast I can turn into with just a thought of her.
Every night I lay in bed, stroking my cock to thoughts of her, thinking of her wild red hair spread out across the bed while she lets me take what’s mine. I thought jacking off to her before I had her was good, but actually having her made it a thousand times better. Now I know the taste of her pussy when I make her come in my mouth, the feel of her tight little cunt gripping onto me when she comes with my cock. Fuck, after being in a strip club for an hour my cock finally goes hard but only because I’m thinking about her.
Adjusting myself I look up and finally see Frankie walking in the door. He makes his way over to my table and he’s got a big greasy smile on his face. He looks like fucking shit. He’s probably using again. These guys never learn. I never got how bosses would let their men run around all strung out. It makes for sloppy work and sloppy work lands your ass dead or doing twenty-five to life.
“You got the information I need?” I grunt, getting right to the point. It’s not my problem he’s using. In fact, he can fucking drop dead for all I care, but only after I get the info I need.
“Sorry, boss, I tried my best but…”
I don’t let him finish. First off I’m not his fucking boss. No way I’d have left a little weasel piss ant like that on one of my crews. Standing, I drop five bills on the table to ensure no one calls the cops on me, and then I grab him by the throat, pick him up off the ground with one arm and walk him outside.
There’s an alley out back and I plan on taking my frustrations out on this snitch. A nice ass-beating may help pull me back from this edge I feel like I’m on at the moment.
Glancing around the alley to make sure it’s all clear, I drop him to the ground and kick his side. I’m pretty sure I feel a rib crack. “The only thing I needed from you was a location, and you couldn’t give me that. Who the fuck are you really working for, Frankie?” No way he doesn’t have something for me. If that was the case he wouldn’t have showed. So someone else must have made him.
I kick him a few more times before he feels like talking.
“I was told to keep you on the chase. I swear that’s all I know,” he coughs out.
There it is. Never takes much for men like him to crack. Another thing I don’t get about these bosses. Never have a man on your crew who can’t take a good old beating. Just makes them an easy mark. “Who told you that?” I ask and reach down to pick him up. I haul his double-crossing ass off the ground and throw him against the wall, hearing his head give a hard crack against the brick wall. Before he falls I grab his chest and keep him held there. “I’m at the short end of my fuse, Frankie, and you’ll do well to remember what happens when I don’t get what I want. You think I don’t know you’re Richie’s cousin? Yeah, I took that motherfucker out fast after he betrayed me. You wanna learn from his example or repeat his mistake? Your call,” I toss out, letting him know I’m okay with either outcome.
He struggles for breath, trying to fill his lungs around some presumably broken ribs. I use the hand that’s not holding him against the wall to punch the places I kicked. He spits up some blood, but he is finally trying to talk.
“Okay, okay, okay. O’Leary sent me. He knows you’re looking for him, and he knows why.” I loosen the grip on his chest and let him breathe a little easier. Just hearing his name making my blood boil. “He heard you got out, and he’s been further underground ever since. I never even saw him. Just used burner phones for texts. Carter, man, you gotta believe me. He’s got a hold of my family. I had to do it.” He’s crying now and I try not to roll my eyes.