Page 10 of Beast
Someone was sending me a message, and the message was that they could do whatever they wanted while I was away. If I went back to Varner, the club would no longer exist as it should. Whoever was doing these things to the club expected me to keep my nose clean and expected the club to pull out of the outlaw business. But that’s not how I or the club operated. Retribution had to be swift and brutal, just as we enjoyed it.
At the whorehouse, Skittles and I waited until three in the morning for the last john to leave. Skittles spoke with the women before allowing them to go home. She took that upon herself, proving she was the obvious person for the job. I could put a club officer or Prospect in charge, but a man would do stupid things if he had this much pussy in front of him all day.
“When do we stop the cameras, Brainiac.”
“After the last john leaves. No need to film an empty room.”
“That done here or back at the club?”
“Here. It’s tied to the alarm system. When the last person leaves, they set the alarm, and the recordings switch off. When the first person arrives in the morning, they switch back on.” Brainiac tapped the keyboard on the desk, and the six screens in front of him lit up. “There’s two rooms on each screen.”
I walked out to the lobby and set the alarm. Back in the office, I made Brainiac manually start the recordings. “Anyone else have access between the time the alarm sets and the time it’s turned off?”
“Yeah.” Brainiac pointed at the screen. “That’s the cleaning guy. His code to get in doesn’t activate the recordings.”
We watched the guy enter the building, disarm the alarm, and start work. He’d know he was being watched if he came to the office first. He went to the first room.
“I’d be wearing a fucking hazmat suit in there,” I said.
“They clean up,” Skittles said. “You make it sound like the women are a bunch of come dumpsters.”
“They aren’t?”
“Really? Now I see why you needed a woman’s touch with these girls.” Skittles watched the screens. “Can you zoom in on him?”
Brainiac zoomed in on the guy when he entered the first room. The guy cleaned the beds, floors, and trashcan. He turned his head toward a corner of the room the camera couldn’t see. He walked in that direction, grabbed a chair, and stood on it. “He’s grabbing the hidden camera.”
“This doesn’t explain why the books look off,” I said. “He might be doing this shit, but someone on the inside is still fucking with things.”
“Look, he’s holding something. It’s a flash drive.” Brainiac zoomed closer. The guy stuck it in his pocket. “Should we go?”
“Na. Let the asshole finish.” I watched the guy enter the second room. Something about the guy was off. “Where’d he come from?”
Brainiac typed something into his laptop, and the guy’s picture appeared. “He was hired through the city’s job opportunities program. Says he has a learning disability.”
“You can’t hurt him,” Skittles said. “He doesn’t even know what he’s doing.”
I watched the man clean each room. I wouldn’t hurt him. I knew his type very well. I knew what happened to his types when they tried to live with “normal” people. He was lucky that he made it this long in life and was allowed to work. Pete, my younger brother, wasn’t so fortunate. When I was in high school, Pete was in middle school. The school had a unique program for kids like Pete. It allowed him to do everything the other kids did: ride the school bus, attend a regular school, and walk the same halls. However, the program didn’t ensure kids like Pete were protected while walking the halls.
A gang of bullies coaxed Pete to a vacant part of the school. It started as just kids playfully harassing a less fortunate kid. Then the dares started. Dare you to spit on him. Dare you to kick him. Dare you to cut him with a knife. Dare you to put a plastic bag over his head. And then Pete was dead. The high school and middle school sat right next to each other. Another group of kids found Pete, and word spread quickly, even to the high school.
I was in the cafeteria when another student whispered that Pete was dead. That’s how I found out—a goddamn whisper in my ear. I bolted from the cafeteria and ran to the middle school. The police were pulling into bus drop-off when I arrived. I cut behind the school and climbed through a busted window. The principal stood over Pete’s body. He said some nasty things about Pete. The principal wasn’t happy having the program at his school.
The principal turned when he heard me drop onto the floor. He stepped away from Pete, backpedaling. He knew I’d heard. He had no remorse. I hit the motherfucker hard. He wasn’t expecting it, so I hit him squarely. The police entered as he hit the floor. I was taken away in cuffs, screaming for my dead brother. That’s when I started paying attention to Kickstand. That’s when I knew the biker life was for me.
“Marcus. Marcus?”
I turned to Skittles.
“What’s wrong?”
“The guy doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing.” I walked to the door. “He’s working for someone smarter than him. Let him finish his job, and I’ll tell him the night’s over. You two stay put. I’m gonna follow him and see where he takes the drives.”
Before following the guy outside, I waited until all the rooms were cleaned and flash drives collected. I gave him twenty bucks for doing a good job and waited for him to leave.
“Marcus.”
“What the fuck are you doing here.” She was the last person I thought I’d ever see in Pine Bluff again.
