Page 5 of Queenpin
Chapter 2
Lucian
I wish I could say that was the first time someone thought I was actually a man. Hell, it wasn’t even the first time today. People need to broaden their horizons, or they are going to live some boring ass lives.
I’m a woman. I have a 32 D size chest and a freshly waxed pussy to prove it to you. But if you touch my pussy or my tits, I will make you a head shorter.
Paul has been giving me excuses for the past ten minutes as to why that fuckwit wasn’t prepared. “Mason is new to the company. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what else to say. This contract means everything to me…”
“Listen, Paul, I really don’t care about your excuses of your ineptitude of hiring little boys. What I do care about is you making a mockery of my business by sending me someone who is less than adequate. Good bye.”
When I hang up with him, I rub my temples. Shit. I needed to get a chef into those private rooms like three months ago. The problem is people are not trustworthy nor do they understand confidentiality. I can’t have some kid in there telling all of his friends about the wild parties.
I groan and pick up my phone off the desk. Swiping and entering in my password, I click on Raul’s name in the contacts.
“Tell me something good, Luca.”
“I need a chef. Find me one.”
He lets out a deep breath. “Quit being so hard on these assholes and we wouldn’t need to keep hiring more.”
Rolling my eyes and fighting the urge to give Raul a tongue lashing through the phone, I decide to ignore him. After Big Heavy of the 3-1-3 Gang, decided they needed to branch out into different markets, I got promoted into owning this club. I own everything about this club, but I still have to pay my dues to Big Heavy.
Everyone pays their dues to Big Heavy. No matter where you turn, Ralf, shot-caller of the gang, lieutenants are watching you. Big Heavy is the ultimate enforcers the gang has, they will stop at nothing to collect what is owed to them.
Imagine my surprise when I came across Raul when Ralf tried to get me to sleep with him after I was jumped into the gang. He stood there watching the exchange with a disgusted look on his face and when I approached him, he promised me he would help me in anyway.
Raul was the one that found me and showed me the ropes. I’m not saying he’s my savior or anything, because that’s just fucking crazy. There is nothing about him that is saintly. I’m just saying he is the main reason why I am here today.
“You know as well as I do, we can’t just have anybody in those rooms. We need someone we can trust. There are things that happen in there that can get us shut down,” I try to reason with him.
“Ms. McGrace,” Trina says over my intercom.
“Hold on, Raul.” I put my phone down and click the intercom button. “What?”
“That man is back again and… he has food.”
Like the word food is some type of siren, my stomach starts to growl. “Take him into the conference room and I will be there in exactly seven minutes. Remind him that I don’t want my time wasted and if that is what he is here to do, tell him to leave.”
I remove my finger from the intercom button and pick up my phone again. “Hey, I have to call you back.” I hang up on him before he can ask why I need to get off the phone.
Rolling my chair away from my desk, I walk over to my cabinet to the side of my office. Pulling open a drawer, I grab a granola bar and unwrap it. My lips close over the chocolate and oat and I catch myself moaning a little.
There are several things that have dubbed me the Ice Queen. I don’t eat in public. I think it’s incredibly annoying having people watch me while I eat, I don’t like the vulnerability of it. Another, I do not make any rash business decisions. Many people have called me a robot because I don’t let my emotions get involved.
One of the major fucking problems about being a woman in this job and why we aren’t respected, is the fact we are considered to be too emotional. We act on emotions instead of facts. I’m not like normal women who are going to cry if my nails get broken.
I am, on the other hand, the type of woman who is doing all the running of the cocaine from Chicago, up through Detroit, and then to Canada. Many people don’t expect a woman to be pedaling the powder across the lines, but I love it. I love the power of being an unsuspected woman in this field.
They will always expect Raul or Ralf over me.
I make sure that all my gang tattoos that are on my arms are covered. One of the most important things about interviewing a new chef, I cannot let them know who I am. If I let them know that I’m the Queenpin behind the smuggling, they will either ask for more money or rat on me.
Speaking of which, I need to make sure Raul is ready to find me a new driver. I need to get my money from these mother fuckers so I can buy cocaine for the next shipment of shit.
Also, the amount of food I have poisoned or have watched get poisoned will make you never want to eat in public again. The only time it’s appropriate is if you have a food tester with you and that’s not very common.
As of today’s date, I have had four attempts on my life that we have stopped before they’ve succeeded. Two involved food. Those fucking assholes are being eaten by worms at the moment.
