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Flat-handed, I drive a side punch into Erin’s kidney. It’s fast and deep. I know it will hurt like hell. Almost any other man would have buckled. Erin does not let out a sound. You can hardly even see it in his face.
“You’ve been taking from drug dealers and letting them pitch in here.”
He looks down.
“You need to bring me an envelope, Erin. Personally.” He doesn’t move or make a sound. “Twenty-five. I’ll give you til Friday.”
He nods. A little line of sweat beads at his hairline. The pain must be excruciating. My guess is that he was working under Stephano’s instructions.
“Friday,” I repeat as I stand aside from the door.
He hands me the barman’s satchel and presses his lips together. Then he looks quickly in my eye. Erin leaves without a word. I know he’ll seek me out with an envelope, and he’ll bring at least thirty.
A good man, and a pro.
I close the door. Now it’s just me and Stephano.
CHAPTER FOUR
“You’re to blame for all of this.” Blood drains from his face. “Like I said, either you were creaming off them, and all the others, and swallowing it all instead of kicking up, or you didn’t know what was going on under your nose. Which explanation you prefer? Tell me.”
His eyes are wide and his jaw flaps like an oversized goldfish.
“You have until Friday, too,” I tell him. “Get this place on track. Take care of business and the girls. And you need to make it right with me, as well.”
He looks at the remains of the barman and I let it all sink in. “You need to decide if you’re going to like working for me, Stephano.”
As I walk back down the stairs cradling the satchel, I try to remember who it was hired Stephano. And I wonder whether I’ll take pleasure in killing Stephano, or I’ll let someone else have the privilege. Maybe Erin. I see a future for him.
Back at the bar, the girl looks like she’s anxious to get out of there.
My cognac is still on the bar, so I return to my perch and lift it.
“What brought you here?” I ask her. “Where are you from? What was your plan when you came to work here?”
“I always wanted to be a dancer. It was my dream. I went to dance school, then to a performing arts college. But I wasn’t good enough.” She looks into my eyes, “Not for anything special. Not for anything out of the ordinary. And who wants to be an ordinary anything?”
“Did you finish college?”
“No. I knew I wasn’t going to make it as a dancer, so I switched to choreography.” Her face lights up a little at last. “I really was good at that.”
“So?”
“So, I was working two jobs, and my daddy started to need money from me so I had to let it go.”
“And you came here?”
“I heard the tips were good.” Her face clouds. “Only, when I got here, I saw why. What you had to do for the big tips.”
I nod. but I wonder. Was she really that naive?
“Anyway, most of the girls here seem top be okay with all of that. But they mostly use drugs to… soften the bounces, as they say.”
After I wait, she finally says, “I can’t afford the drugs. Not and send money back to Daddy. And anyway,” her chin juts with a hint of defiance. “I don’t like them.”
“What’s your name?”
“Catlin.”
