Page 24 of The Games We Play
“What’s up, Prez?” I say, perching the phone beneath my ear so I can wrap a towel around my waist.
“Need you to do a cash run.”
“On it. Anyone around?” We never do cash runs solo. It’s a recipe for getting robbed.
“I can go with you if we go in the next hour.”
“Okay, gimme fifteen.”
Once I’m dressed, I throw a cup of coffee down my throat.
“Morning,” I say to King when I hit his office.
He looks up from his laptop. “Thank fuck. Can’t look at this finance file for a second longer. Let’s go.”
There’s a backpack on the table. “How much?” I ask.
King grabs his keys and slings the bag over his shoulder. “Fifty.”
Fifty thousand cash to be laundered through our strip club. “We hitting the balance?”
“Yeah. Bit rich this month but annualized, yeah.” Clubs must strike a balance. We get a lot of illegal cash, but we can’t just spend it. Some gets paid out to members, piles of cash in brown envelopes; some goes on the club’s actual accounts as dues and membership and shit. The majority gets cleaned through our businesses. Niro runs a tattoo studio, Vex runs a home security business, and Saint oversees the strip club, which is a fucking odd combo for our preacher man.
“I’ve been hearing bullshit about some clubs trying to go legit. They’ll miss the money.”
King laughs as we climb on our bikes. “Yeah. And they’re forgetting, if you’ve been in a certain business in that area for a while and then stop, some other asshole’s going to creep onto your turf and start offering what you were offering. Before you know it, you’ve got a turf war.”
“I like the way you’ve got it levelled out, Prez.”
King tips his chin, and we set off.
I ride just behind him to his left. Wanna be in the middle of the road so I can see the long game. I study people, take in vehicle details, look up on rooftops.
We drive past Iris’s house. She’s put a planter up against the new railing I fixed the other day. No plants in it yet though.
When we get to the club, we enter through the back and I watch as King deposits the cash in the safe. Once done, we shift to the bar and find Saint sitting by the stage. I flop down in the red leather seat next to him. My dick stirs as I watch a pretty young thing grind against the pole.
Last night, I fucked one of the girls in the clubhouse. . .let her think I was really into it, when the whole time I imagined it was Iris.
“College student. Wants a quick way to make cash with minimum impact to her studies,” he says.
“Body and moves like that, she’ll cash in quick. Put her on Friday and Saturdays, and she’ll make enough.” Her tits are huge. Totally fuckable. “She up for the private shit?”
Private shitmeaning down for sex in the private rooms out back.
Saint nods. “Says she is. Wants to graduate without any loans. Wanna give her a road test?”
“No, he doesn’t,” King says, slapping my shoulder. “We got important shit to do.”
“We do?” I ask. “Because my dick’s saying the important shit I got to do is up there flashing her cunt at me.”
Saint laughs. “I’ll get her number. Tell you when she’s in.”
We step out onto the sidewalk, and immediately I see my ex Samantha standing by my bike.
“Fuck me,” I mutter.
“I’ll give you a minute,” King says.
