Page 107 of Heartfelt Pain
This apartment has a better view. I pull up one leg to my chest, my heel catching on the edge of the chair. Trevino didn’t take the floor to be nice. This chair sucks.
“You don’t think my friends are wrong do you?” I ask.
“You about to bitch me out again for being a traitor?”
I might’ve said a few choice words at the hospital after he asked Tyler to check my blood pressure again.
“I’m simply asking you for some advice. From one business owner to the other.”
“Your friends offer you advice all the time. You never take it.”
“Someone’s a bit feisty today,” I complain.
He messes with the protein shake. “I think you’re hard working.”
I pretend not to preen at the compliment.
“I personally loved how you bitched out Walkman the other day,” he admits.
The man wanted to sell some information about the cartel's drug smuggling operations. I told him to stop being stupid and give it to the Italians. Those types of favors are just as valuable as business deals.
He runs a hand over his buzzcut. “And you know Fujimori’s is a vibe.”
I knew the place would rub off on him. He picked out a song last week on the jukebox. A song he’d noticed Jane liked.
“Okay, stop kissing my ass,” I say. “I know you have opinions.”
“You need help.”
My shoulders sag. It’s exactly what I expected, yet what I didn’t want to hear.
“Taking twelve meetings a day doesn’t prove you’re the boss,” he says. “Delegating is part of leadership.”
“The men I work with aren’t interested in meeting with the help.”
“Bennie isn’t the help.” There’s an implication that I should know better. “The guy’s well-respected and people know he’s an extension of you. Nobody’s going to screw him and nobody’s going to screw you.”
My face must show my disbelief.
“Cliff screwed you,” Trevino says. I’m sure beingbest friends with Mulligan means he knows most of the story. “But Ben’s shown up day in and day out and helped you.”
“But he has his own law firm. I never asked him to take on more meetings because it felt rude to pile on to his to-do.”
“He’s offering to help you more,” he points out. “Look, you’ve got two options. You can stay afloat or you can scale up.”
He knows me. I’m ambitious. I want my business to rake in money and build a bigger portfolio. I want people to know they can rely on me.
“If you can scale up, it’s not just about Ben,” Trevino says. “You’ll need help. Someone to take on more meetings, to help smooth tension, to pick up the phone and listen to disgruntled triggermen.”
“Do you know how hard it is to find help?”
It’s not like I haven’t thought about it before.
I’ve stuck it out on my own for so long because the job is a hard one to fill. You need someone entuned to the life. And sure, it’s surprisingly easy to find someone like that in this city. But I need someone who can sit with an Italian underboss and cut a contract with the Irish Mob.
Part of doing my job is knowing all kinds of nasty shit and knowing when to hang onto it and when to parcel it out. I need someone I can get along with after a twelve-hour day. Someone who I don’t have to baby. There’s not a whole lot of time to train someone in this line of work.
“I need someone who I not only trust to take a bullet for me,” I say, “but also one who my clients don’t want to kill.”
