Page 94 of Redd

Chapter Twenty-One

Redd

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“Hey stranger.” Thescratchy voice called out from behind the bar, before the door even had time to close.

“You remember me?” I asked, tucking my hands into my pockets and walking towards the long counter.

Tammy let out a chuckle, stuffing a towel into a glass and drying it out. Turning it upside down, she sent me a half smile. “I never forget a face, that's part of my appeal.”

Nodding, I smirked back. “Well, I'll have to remember that.”

“What can I get for you? Scotch, no ice?”

“No, I'm not here for that.” Leaning forward, I bent my chest over the bar. “I'm actually here to see Pierre. Is he around?”

“Pierre? What do you need him for?” Her brows furrowed, jaw crooking as she eyed me curiously. “Are you looking to join? Because I can take care of that for you.”

“No, I just need a word with him. Is he here?” I already knew he was, but I didn't want to concern her by getting pushy.

Thinning her lids, Tammy wiped her hands against a dark blue towel. “He's in the back, I'll go grab him for you.”

Slapping the bar, I stood up straight. “Actually, the privacy would be good. Can I go back and see him?”

Rolling her lips around, something about her demeanor changed. She looked uncomfortable in my presence, as if I was suddenly someone she shouldn't be talking to. “Let me go see what he wants to do.” Starting towards the back door, she stopped short and cocked her head over her shoulder. “Who am I saying is here?”

“Redd, you can tell him Redd is here.”

“Redd, got it. Give me a sec.”

Disappearing behind the old rickety door, I walked to the end of the bar and waited. I had no idea that night when I first came here, that this bar would be the center stage of what was coming.

Owned and ran by Pierre Garrel, a French immigrant who moved here over twenty years ago. From what Bijou had told me, he lived an honest life. But when she mentioned this place, and I remembered the men that were here, I knew Bijou didn't have a clue. Those men hadn't been here by chance, this was a small piece of Diablo's empire. It was the connection between Diablo and her father, and I was ready to learn why.

Pierre was holding up a thick veil, hiding this part of his life from his family. Who knew how deep this really all went.

“Redd. . .” Tammy said, holding the door open. “You can go back, second door on the left.”

“Thanks.” Brushing past her, I gave her one last look over my shoulder. Her face was stoic, an emotionless pit that pretended to not see the whole picture. She stopped looking at me, quietly going back to work as if I hadn't been there.

But she knew, I could tell, she knew exactly what was going on here.

The tight hall was dark, illuminated under flickering bulbs. Walking down the corridor, I found the door she had directed me to.

A small plaque sat in the center, the word 'Office' was written in faded, gold lettering. Grazing the wood with the back of my knuckles, a man's voice called out from inside. “Come in.”

Pushing the door open, her father was sitting behind an old metal framed desk. The suit he had on was ash gray, with heavy leather patches cupping his elbows. His hair was brushed back, the white strands thinning so you could see the pink of his scalp.

Straightening the trim of his jacket, he ran his hands down his chest as he watched me close the door. Clasping his finger together, his eyes stilled, motionless and cautious. Papers were piled around him like towers, the mess melting off his desk and spilling onto the floor.

It didn't matter how calm and in control he wanted to appear—because he wasn't.

Thick lines created paths around his face, mimicking the harsh world he was living in. His fingers kept moving, fiddling and stroking nervously over each other as his knuckles whitened. The vein in his neck pulsed with his heartbeat, growing faster and harder as I stepped up to him.

He had no idea who I was or how concerned he should be with my presence. And I was more than glad to use that to my advantage.

“Have a seat.” Holding out his hand, he edged me down with an open palm. “Tammy, she says you want to talk. What can I do for you, Redd.” The accent in his voice was thick, highlighting single letters and elongating vowels.

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