Page 98 of Under His Control

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Nostalgia rolls through me as I approach the bar. The familiar feels foreign, the foreign feels familiar.

I was born and raised here in Toronto. I used to be accustomed to the chaotic sounds and smells of city life but it seems small town life changed me.

Wenora is several times smaller than Toronto yet it’s not as claustrophobic. On this street, the buildings are a seamless row of brick, there are too many parked cars, and lots of people are walking and talking in every direction.

I shake my head as some wacky guy makes an abrupt illegal U-turn in the middle of the street. Other drivers lean hard on their horns in response.

I walk up the patio entrance to Rourke’s. According to Penelope, Cedric’s office is at the back of this bar that’s squeezed between a tailor’s and an Ethiopian restaurant. A legitimate cover for his less than legitimate business.

Customers are sparse inside on a late Monday afternoon. Penelope wanted to come with me. I made her wait in the car because I didn’t want her to endure Cedric’s presence anymore.

It’s gloomy in here because of the dark walls and low amber lights. The bartender looks bored as a guy in a red jacket rambles on. He perks up and meets my gaze as I approach the bar.

“I need to see Cedric.”

He sizes me up. “What for?”

“It’s about Penelope.”

His suspicious stare lingers on me for a moment before he turns to the landline behind him. While he speaks on the phone, presumably to Cedric, Red Jacket swings a look over his shoulder at me and almost falls off his stool.

His face is flushed, his eyes glassy. That half-empty beer mug in his hand isn’t his first. Probably not his second either.

My mind drifts to Wayne, then to Sasha’s revelation last night. Did the police catch her yet? The next time I’m at work, I’m sure Cynthia will gleefully share the news on any developments.

The bartender hangs up the phone and faces me again. He jerks his thumb over his shoulder.

“Down the hall. Make a right.”

I follow his directions and arrive at a door. Two knocks later, it swings open. A stony-faced bald guy dressed entirely in black beckons me inside.

“Arms up,” he demands.

I get the frisk I gave Penelope though this one isn’t as enjoyable for me. Stony Face pats a little harder around my jacket pocket containing the envelope.

A burly guy seated at a desk watches me with a smile. He indicates Stony Face.

“Can’t be too careful, you know. A lotta guys have evil thoughts in their minds about me. You look like one of ‘em.”

He leans back when Stony Face gives him the all clear I didn’t bring any weapons.

“Ah, Penelope. Where is she and who are you?”

I take out the envelope from my jacket pocket and toss it down on his desk.

“It’s everything she owes you.”

Cedric stares at me for a moment then snatches up the envelope and opens it.

He takes out the wad of cash I withdrew before I came here and drops it into a money counter sitting conveniently on his desk. I bet he loves that thing more than anyone.

After counter finishes tallying up the bills, Cedric props his elbows on his desk and interlaces his fingers. He levels a calculating look on me.

“I’m afraid Penelope’s still short. You see, she caused me a lot of stress when I found out she skipped town. Another five should ease my suffering.”

I step closer. “You told her you have friends. I have friends too, Cedric. Friends in higher places than yours, and they can cause a lot more stress for you and your line of business. Is the five worth that? Because she’s worth me doing anything I can to protect her from you. The guy behind me won’t stop me either.”