Page 60 of Beni

“Love you, bro.”

His brother didn’t give him the chance to return the sentiment before he hung up the phone with a loud click. He wasn’t offended and figured he could just revisit the conversation with Marcus another time, if that’s what he wanted to do.

Not bothering to linger any longer where he might be seen and knowing the crew would be arriving soon to get their daily tasks around the city, he headed into the warehouse through the side entrance.

The smell of cardboard boxes—probably filled with counterfeit goods that would need to be unpacked and sold on the streets throughout the week—greeted him first. He made a beeline to the back of the large building, bypassing a couple of stolen cars that were covered with tarps, but that he knew were being held until someone could move and chop them up for parts. Weaving in between the steel beams that jutted down from the ceiling, and the wall of boxes of fake goods that had been delivered the night before, he came around the back to see the Capo’s office was already open.

Waiting for him.

Beni didn’t bother to knock—Jerome, the Capo—wasn’t particular with that shit with him. Anyone else, though, and he didn’t let them make the mistake of not knocking a second time.

Stepping inside the office, he found Jerome sitting behind his small, worn-down desk. It looked like one of those metal ones that teachers used in high school, except it had a couple of dents on the top, and someone had tried to spray-paint it green. And not a nice green either, no like a puke green.

“Couple minutes late, yeah?”

Beni shrugged. “Sorry—traffic.”

It was a lie, but Jerome didn’t pick up on it. With his boots resting on the top of the desk, and the chair he sat in dangling dangerously on two legs, the Capo wearing his standard three-piece suit, waved a hand for Beni to come in further.

“Hurry up, because we’re running short on time today. The guys know it’s the day of the week they like—goods to be sold, easy cash, and they’ll go home happy tonight. Chances are, they’re going to get here early just because.”

“Right, right.”

Beni closed the door behind him leaving only a crack, so he could hear any movement in the warehouse outside of the office before he turned to the Capo. “How did last night go?”

“Neil didn’t have any issues to report,” Jerome muttered, sitting up and letting his Italian leather loafers snap to the cement floor. “Said the goods came in fine, and they managed to get it all unloaded without anyone noticing.”

Beni nodded. “And when he left with the guys?”

“Same thing.”

“But yesterday, the gang did a drive-by on two guys from the crew working in the Heights?”

Jerome tapped the side of his nose before pointing the same finger at Beni. “You’re starting to keep up, I see, good job.”

Was that an insult, or a … compliment?

Beni didn’t know.

Nor did he care.

“I haven’t been able to get close enough to anyone in the crew to see or know anything,” Beni admitted. “They’ve got their own groups within the crew, and they’re not open to letting someone new into their ranks.”

Sure, they worked with him.

Because they were told to.

That was it.

Jerome nodded, letting out a sigh. “Give it some time—they’re a close knit bunch, and given the fact they know thieving has been happening, they’re all looking at each other, wondering which one it is, you know. Gonna make for some paranoia, that’s all.”

Sure, but …

“You said the problems with the gang only started after you noticed the stealing within the crew, right?”

“What about it?”

Jerome was a big guy—easily two-seventy in weight, well over six feet tall, and while he didn’t have time to fuck around with the crew a lot of the time, he also had no problem with coming in to lay down the law when it called for it. The crew knew that, too, it was what kept a lot of them in line. That fear of their Capo, harsh and unforgiving, who looked like a fucking bear coming their way whenever he came out of the back of the warehouse.