Deal Breaker
Page 36
He picked up the car phone and dialed Esperanza.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“You coming back to the office?”
“I’m on my way there now.”
“I wouldn’t make any stops,” she said.
“Why?”
“You have a surprise client waiting for you.”
“Who?”
“Chaz Landreaux.”
“He’s supposed to be hiding in Washington.”
“Well, he’s here. And he looks like shit.”
“Tell him to sit tight. I’m on my way.”
“It’s like this,” Chaz began. “I want to cancel our contract.”
He paced the office like an expectant father, and he did indeed look like shit. The cocky grin was nowhere to be seen. The swagger was more like a hunch. He kept licking his lips, darting his eyes, bunching and unbunching his fingers.
“Why don’t you start at the beginning?” Myron tried.
“Ain’t no beginning,” Chaz snapped. “I want out. You gonna fight me on it?”
“What happened?”
“Nothing happened. I changed my mind, is all. I want to go with Roy O’Connor at TruPro now. They’re big-time. You’re a nice guy, Myron, but you don’t have their connections.”
“Uh-huh.”
Silence. More pacing.
“Can I have the contract or what?”
“How did they get to you, Chaz?”
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. How many times do I have to say it? I don’t want you, okay?” Chaz was on the edge and teetering. “I want TruPro.”
“It’s not that easy,” Myron said.
“You gonna fight me on this?” he asked again.
“They won’t stop with this, Chaz. You’re in over your head. You have to let me help you.”
He stopped. “Help me? You wanna help me? Then give me back my contract. And don’t pretend you give a shit about me. You just want your piece.”
“Do you really believe that?” Myron asked.
He shook his head. “You don’t get it, man. I don’t want you. I want to go with TruPro.”
“I get it. And like I said before, it’s not that easy. These guys got you by the balls. You think you can make them let go by doing what they say. But you can’t. Not for good anyway. Whenever they want something, they’ll just reach back into your pants and give another squeeze. They won’t stop, Chaz. Not until they’ve squeezed you for everything they can.”
“Man, you don’t know shit. I don’t have to explain nothing to you.” He approached the desk, but his eyes looked away. “I want that goddamn contract. I want it now.”
Myron picked up his phone. “Esperanza, bring me Chaz’s contract. The original.” He hung up. “It’ll just be a moment.”
Chaz said nothing.
“You don’t know what you’re mixed up in,” Myron continued.
“Fuck off, man. I know exactly what I’m mixed up in.”
“Let me help, Chaz.”
He snorted. “What can you do?”
“I can stop them.”
“Oh yeah, I can tell. You done a great job so far.”
“What happened?”
But he just shook his head.
Esperanza came in and handed Myron the contract. Myron in turn handed it to Chaz. He grabbed it and hurried to the door.
“Sorry, Myron. But this is business.”
“You can’t beat them, Chaz. Not on your own. They’ll suck you dry.”
“Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”
“I don’t think you can.”
“Just stay the fuck out. It ain’t your business no more.”
He took off without a backward glance. When he was gone, Win opened the door between the conference room and Myron’s office. “Interesting conversation,” Win said.
Myron nodded, thinking.
“We’ve lost a client,” Win said. “Too bad.”
“It’s not that simple, Win.”
“That’s where you’re mistaken,” Win replied steadily. “It’s just that simple. He dumped you for another agency. As he so eloquently put it, ‘It ain’t your business no more.’ ”
“Chaz is being pressured.”
“And you offered to help him. He refused.”
“He’s a scared kid.”
“He’s an adult who makes his own decisions. One of which was to tell you to fuck off.”
Myron looked up. “You know what they’ll do to him.”
“It’s a world of free will, Myron. Landreaux chose to take the money in college. And he chose to go back to them now.”
“Will you follow him?”
“Pardon?”
“Follow Chaz. See where he takes those contracts.”
“You complicate the simple, Myron. Just let it be.”
“I can’t. You know I can’t.”
Win nodded. “I guess I do.” He thought a moment. “I’ll do it for the sake of our business,” he said. “For the added revenue. If we get Landreaux back in our stable, it will be very profitable. You may enjoy playing superhero, but as far as I’m concerned, this is no moral crusade. I am doing this for the money. That is the only reason. The money.”
Myron nodded. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
“Fine. As long as we are clear on that point. And I want you to take this.”
Win handed him a Smith & Wesson .38 and a shoulder holster. Myron put it on. Carrying a gun was incredibly uncomfortable, yet the weight felt good, like a reminder of some kind of protective bubble. Sometimes the sensation made you feel heady, invincible even.
That was usually when you got popped.
“Be extra careful,” Win said. “The word has hit the streets.”
“What word?”
“A price has officially been put on your head,” Win said, as if it were amusing cocktail conversation. “Thirty thousand dollars to the man who takes you out.”
Myron made a face. “Thirty thousand? Hell, I used to be a fed. I should be worth sixty, seventy grand minimum.”
“Bad economy. Times are tough.”
“I’m being discounted?”
“Appears so, yes.”
Myron opened the revolver and checked the bullets. Just as he suspected. Win had loaded the gun with dumdums—bullets with cross-hatched tips to expose the lead. Wasn’t enough to be using hollow-point Winchester Silvertip bullets. Win had to doctor them for that extra little crunch. “These are illegal.”
“What’s up?” he asked.
“You coming back to the office?”
“I’m on my way there now.”
“I wouldn’t make any stops,” she said.
“Why?”
“You have a surprise client waiting for you.”
“Who?”
“Chaz Landreaux.”
“He’s supposed to be hiding in Washington.”
“Well, he’s here. And he looks like shit.”
“Tell him to sit tight. I’m on my way.”
“It’s like this,” Chaz began. “I want to cancel our contract.”
He paced the office like an expectant father, and he did indeed look like shit. The cocky grin was nowhere to be seen. The swagger was more like a hunch. He kept licking his lips, darting his eyes, bunching and unbunching his fingers.
“Why don’t you start at the beginning?” Myron tried.
“Ain’t no beginning,” Chaz snapped. “I want out. You gonna fight me on it?”
“What happened?”
“Nothing happened. I changed my mind, is all. I want to go with Roy O’Connor at TruPro now. They’re big-time. You’re a nice guy, Myron, but you don’t have their connections.”
“Uh-huh.”
Silence. More pacing.
“Can I have the contract or what?”
“How did they get to you, Chaz?”
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. How many times do I have to say it? I don’t want you, okay?” Chaz was on the edge and teetering. “I want TruPro.”
“It’s not that easy,” Myron said.
“You gonna fight me on this?” he asked again.
“They won’t stop with this, Chaz. You’re in over your head. You have to let me help you.”
He stopped. “Help me? You wanna help me? Then give me back my contract. And don’t pretend you give a shit about me. You just want your piece.”
“Do you really believe that?” Myron asked.
He shook his head. “You don’t get it, man. I don’t want you. I want to go with TruPro.”
“I get it. And like I said before, it’s not that easy. These guys got you by the balls. You think you can make them let go by doing what they say. But you can’t. Not for good anyway. Whenever they want something, they’ll just reach back into your pants and give another squeeze. They won’t stop, Chaz. Not until they’ve squeezed you for everything they can.”
“Man, you don’t know shit. I don’t have to explain nothing to you.” He approached the desk, but his eyes looked away. “I want that goddamn contract. I want it now.”
Myron picked up his phone. “Esperanza, bring me Chaz’s contract. The original.” He hung up. “It’ll just be a moment.”
Chaz said nothing.
“You don’t know what you’re mixed up in,” Myron continued.
“Fuck off, man. I know exactly what I’m mixed up in.”
“Let me help, Chaz.”
He snorted. “What can you do?”
“I can stop them.”
“Oh yeah, I can tell. You done a great job so far.”
“What happened?”
But he just shook his head.
Esperanza came in and handed Myron the contract. Myron in turn handed it to Chaz. He grabbed it and hurried to the door.
“Sorry, Myron. But this is business.”
“You can’t beat them, Chaz. Not on your own. They’ll suck you dry.”
“Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”
“I don’t think you can.”
“Just stay the fuck out. It ain’t your business no more.”
He took off without a backward glance. When he was gone, Win opened the door between the conference room and Myron’s office. “Interesting conversation,” Win said.
Myron nodded, thinking.
“We’ve lost a client,” Win said. “Too bad.”
“It’s not that simple, Win.”
“That’s where you’re mistaken,” Win replied steadily. “It’s just that simple. He dumped you for another agency. As he so eloquently put it, ‘It ain’t your business no more.’ ”
“Chaz is being pressured.”
“And you offered to help him. He refused.”
“He’s a scared kid.”
“He’s an adult who makes his own decisions. One of which was to tell you to fuck off.”
Myron looked up. “You know what they’ll do to him.”
“It’s a world of free will, Myron. Landreaux chose to take the money in college. And he chose to go back to them now.”
“Will you follow him?”
“Pardon?”
“Follow Chaz. See where he takes those contracts.”
“You complicate the simple, Myron. Just let it be.”
“I can’t. You know I can’t.”
Win nodded. “I guess I do.” He thought a moment. “I’ll do it for the sake of our business,” he said. “For the added revenue. If we get Landreaux back in our stable, it will be very profitable. You may enjoy playing superhero, but as far as I’m concerned, this is no moral crusade. I am doing this for the money. That is the only reason. The money.”
Myron nodded. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
“Fine. As long as we are clear on that point. And I want you to take this.”
Win handed him a Smith & Wesson .38 and a shoulder holster. Myron put it on. Carrying a gun was incredibly uncomfortable, yet the weight felt good, like a reminder of some kind of protective bubble. Sometimes the sensation made you feel heady, invincible even.
That was usually when you got popped.
“Be extra careful,” Win said. “The word has hit the streets.”
“What word?”
“A price has officially been put on your head,” Win said, as if it were amusing cocktail conversation. “Thirty thousand dollars to the man who takes you out.”
Myron made a face. “Thirty thousand? Hell, I used to be a fed. I should be worth sixty, seventy grand minimum.”
“Bad economy. Times are tough.”
“I’m being discounted?”
“Appears so, yes.”
Myron opened the revolver and checked the bullets. Just as he suspected. Win had loaded the gun with dumdums—bullets with cross-hatched tips to expose the lead. Wasn’t enough to be using hollow-point Winchester Silvertip bullets. Win had to doctor them for that extra little crunch. “These are illegal.”
