Page 97 of The Heir

Mak laughed so hard he snorted, but the other man didn’t. He smiled in an odd way and glanced from me to Mak, and back again.

“This is my new business partner, Blaze. He’s going to be running shit while I’m in.”

“‘In– What the fuck are you talking about? They knocked you off again?”

“No. My son got into a scuffle at one of the parties. By the time it was over everyone was locked up. They got me with a pistol.”

“Fuckin’ hell, man.” The guy shook his head, forgetting about our pissing match.

“Blaze, this is Nick, he’s the VP of the Red Monks.” He shut up long enough to take a swig of his whiskey.

“Yeah, I’ve heard of the Rabid Monkeys,” I clipped, with all the boredom I could muster.

Mak coughed, spraying the edge of the desk with dark liquor.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” Nick asked, leaning toward me.

He changed paths, halfway there and turned his head to confront Makaveli, “Where is that scrawny, little wise ass, hm? He thinks he’s cute having this kid come in here and mouth me like this?”

I slid off the desk the minute he puffed up, and by the time he faced me again, we were chest to chest. I towered over him by at least four inches.

He stepped back when he realized it, but I kept pace with him, causing the other man to rise out of the chair he’d planted himself in when the show began.

“That scrawny fuck is my uncle, try to keep up and prove that snortin’ the Drano hasn’t depleted the last of your braincells. Now, I said I don’t like your tone, and I really don’t like the way you've been eye fuckin’ me, Sugar. So, unless you want to go back to pushing that off-red dog shit that you hillbilly bastards call phosphorous, I’d suggest you sit down and shut the fuck up.”

I thought for sure Mak was going to grab me by the scruff of the neck, but he didn’t. Nick looked at his friend, and they begrudgingly sat down, so I did, too.

“Okay, about them five G’s,” Mak cleared his throat.

For a minute I thought he was referring to five grams of drugs. Did we really have two backwater dope cooks sitting in the office over five grams of blow? I didn’t know what cocaine was worth, so I really couldn’t say if that was sufficient reason to have sullied our evening or not and opted to stay quiet for a minute.

I idly picked up the forty-five just to be sure the safety was off.

“It’s coming, Mak. My middleman got pinched but I’m gonna recoup the–” Nick excitedly rambled.

“Get the fuck out,” Mak cut him off, and didn’t repeat himself, I heard him cock his gun and I shot off the desk and raised mine, aiming it at Nick on instinct alone.

Mak became the voice of God in that moment, booming with rage, “I fuckin’ told you Rabid bastards not to be using middlemen, didn’t I?”

“Mak, it was my fuckin’ cousin’s step–”

“Yeah, what’s his name?” Mak rounded the desk and put his gun to the other man’s head.

“Nick,” His associate’s voice climbed and thinned with panic.

“Mak, calm the fuck down, alright? Look he ain’t no fuckin’ snitch alright?” Nick panicked.

Mak jerked his gun away from his hostage's head and shot Nick in the left foot. The bang sent my heart off at a full gallop. I could hear my pulse in my ears, but it wasn’t enough to drown out Makaveli’s yelling.

“Mother fucker, I said get! You best haul your ass.” He re-cocked his weapon.

The poor man was half sprawled over his flipped chair and scrambling to get to his feet. He managed to turn, and got two steps in, but when he reached for the door handle, Mak shot him in the ankle, and he collapsed against it with a scream.

His associate shot toward the wall and started hugging it on his way toward the door, “Please, I don’t have nothing to do with this. I— I—”

His stammering snapped me out of it, and I chambered my round.

“Jesus Christ!” he howled and darted toward the door. Nick has barely managed to get it open, but the dude hit him in the face with it, sending him sprawling to the floor where he lay unconscious. His partner was gone, the dude didn’t even look back.

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