Chapter 2
David looked uneasily at the address that Mark had directed him to, a seedy-looking, run-down concrete structure in a VERY bad neighborhood. “Umm…are you sure that this is a good idea?” he asked uncertainly.
Mark sighed, shucking out of his seatbelt reluctantly. “No, but I don’t want to give Vlad any notice that I’m coming. I just want to get in, give him the money, and get out. Hopefully with my skin intact. I’ll be right back - I hope,” he said with a rather tremulous smile, getting out of the rental car with the envelope containing the cashier’s check gripped in his right hand.
David did some gripping of his own, namely the steering wheel, as he watched Mark walk toward the rust-laced steel door set in the side of the grim structure. He wanted to go in with Mark, but what kind of protection could a mere writer of suspense novels provide? His characters all knew martial arts and how to shoot a gun, but he didn’t. He wouldn’t be of any use to Mark in there, but that didn’t stop him from wishing that he could go in with the young actor. Even though he broke out in a sweat at the mere thought, because facing down a Russian gangster wasn’t his idea of a good time…
Time passed, and he became more and more worried. What was happening in there?! He pulled out the cell phone he’d retrieved from his bag, preparing to call the cops if Mark didn’t emerge soon. But just as he did so, the door to the structure swung open and a large man in a dark suit came out and walked toward his car. He tensed, his breath faltering, as the man came up to the rental car and tapped on the window. He rolled it down, very reluctantly. “Yes?” he said, amazed that he managed to keep his voice even and calm. “Can I help you?”
“You come in,” the man said in heavily-accented English. “Vlad wishes to speak to you.”
“Me? Why?” David asked.
The man shrugged. “He does not tell me why. You come,” he added menacingly, and David swallowed heavily before getting out of the car. What other choice did he have? He suspected that if he didn’t come of his own volition, the man had instructions to ‘encourage’ him in various ways that he was sure that he wouldn’t like at all. His legs were trembling a little, as he followed the Russian man toward the concrete building.
Inside, he saw that the building was a large, mostly-empty space with small, grimy widows up near the ceiling that let in little light. But that was made up for by banks of lights here and there, and they threw a pool of light on a Persian rug set on the bare concrete floor, and a long leather couch sitting on the rug. Mark was standing tensely beside this couch, his face a mask.
While David could see a few men standing here and there in the big room, only one of them was sitting on the couch. Lounging, actually, and smoking a nasty-smelling cigarette. His arm was around a blonde in a tight red mini-skirt, who looked bored and was painting her nails a violent shade of scarlet. The man in the suit led him over to where Mark was standing, and the younger man gave him an apologetic glance before he spoke.
“Hey, Darren,” he said, making David stare at him. “I was just telling Vlad here about why you gave me the money to pay off my debt,” his voice was casual, but with undertones of fear in it.
“Err…you were?” David said uncertainly, wondering silently what was going on.
“Yes,” Mark nodded his head firmly, shooting David a warning glance. “I told him that you’d agreed to be my new sugar daddy, that the money essentially means that you own me. Right?”
“Uh, yeah,” he agreed, not sure what Mark was doing but knowing that it wouldn’t be a great idea to contradict him at this point. “That’s right.”
“See? I told you, Vlad,” Mark said to the man seated on the couch. “I met him today when I was cruising Hollywood Boulevard, trying to make some money so that I could get out of town before you could find me. He called me over to his car, and propositioned me. And I’d much rather be one guy’s sex slave, than a whore for anybody who has a buck to spend. Even if he slaps me around a little, it’s still a better offer. So I took it, and he gave me the money, but he insisted on coming down here with me to make sure that you didn’t try to steal his property,” he went on.
The man on the couch spoke in a deep rumble of a voice. “Mark tells me that you work for the Calavara Cartel,” he said, his black eyes seeming to be trying to bore through David’s brain, “As a free-lance contractor. Is this true?”
David’s mouth opened a little, but he recovered quickly and said as casually as he could manage: “That’s right.”
Vlad frowned. “He is not talkative,” he noted.
“So what? He didn’t buy me for my conservation,” Mark said.
He got a cold glance for this statement. “He does not look like anything special.”
Mark laughed at that, taking David by surprise. “Oh? And your best killers don’t all look like librarians?” he sneered, folding his arms over his chest.
Vlad shrugged. “Da, this is so. Pyotr, he could be accountant. And he cuts throats like an artist,” he made a slashing movement over his own throat, and David wondered if it would be okay to faint. Maybe not, but he’d much rather have had that option on the table…
Vlad’s eyes came back to his face, studying him. “You must be good,” he noted with reluctant respect, “To work for the Calavara Cartel. They only hire the best, especially white men. White men can go places that most of them can’t, not without making everyone suspicious. But still…how am I to know that he is telling the truth?” he nodded at Mark. “Or that you are?”
David cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, but the Cartel didn’t give me an employee badge when they hired me,” he told Vlad in a voice that was so calm that it didn’t seem to be his own. “But if you want to call them and check on my credentials, you go right ahead…”
Vlad stared up at him, then began to laugh darkly. “That is good one,” he replied. “But as we have had…misunderstandings…in the past, they and I don’t get along very well. They would not be happy with me if I called them - or messed with one of their hitmen, either. Okay. You take your boy and get lost, eh? I’ve got my money, I’m good. You enjoy your new property, Darren.”
“I’m sure I will,” David replied, as Mark came to his side. He took the younger man’s arm in a way that he knew looked proprietary, and led him away toward the door. He felt like he had a bullseye on his back the entire time, and he flinched a little when the man in the dark suit who’d first come to get him opened the door for them with a clang. They walked out into the sunlight together, and he’d never been happier to see it in his entire life.
They made it to the rental car, the man in the dark suit watching them the entire time. He got behind the wheel, and Mark got into the passenger’s side and did up his seatbelt with shaking fingers. David didn’t know how he got the car started, but all he wanted to do was get away from this building and the dangerous Russian gangster inside of it. So he put it in reverse and backed up, not saying anything until they were driving down the street. Mark didn’t say anything at first either, so the car was filled with silence.
Until Mark finally spoke, that was. “I’m really sorry, David,” he breathed. “I didn’t want to get you mixed up in this, but Vlad wanted to know where I’d gotten the money from to pay him. I tried to tell him that it was from my uncle, but he didn’t believe me. And I suspected that he was thinking of making me work in his stable anyway, even though I’d paid him back. I could see it in his eyes. So I made up that story about a sugar daddy on the spot, but then he wanted to meet him. You did so well, going along with my story! I was terrified that you’d lose it, and we’d both be in hot water. I almost peed my pants when Sergei dragged you in, but then you kept your cool…and Vlad believed me, holy Christ…I can’t believe that worked!”
“I can’t either,” David replied. “He really thought that I was a hitman?”
“Yeah. Because I’ve seen HIS hitmen before, and most of them are the most unassuming-looking guys ever. That Pyotr guy…” he shivered visibly, hugging himself. “He’s totally scary, even though he looks like he should be working at the DMV. And I know that Vlad and the Calavara Cartel are mortal enemies, because I heard him talking to one of his guys about it. Thank God they were speaking in English, because I don’t know Russian…I figured that if my new sugar daddy worked for the Cartel, Vlad wouldn’t hassle him because he doesn’t want to start a war with them. He knows that he’d lose; his operation is a lot smaller than theirs is. I took a chance. And oh, boy, am I glad that I was right…”
“So am I,” David said fervently.
“I’m really sorry that I got you mixed up in that,” Mark said apologetically, running a hand through his wavy dark hair.
“You had no choice; I understand that,” David told him. “I’m just glad that I managed to go along with it, and that Vlad believed you. I’ve never been so scared in my entire life.”
“Me, either,” Mark agreed, slumping back in his seat.
David smiled ruefully. “Well, it’s not every day that I get to be a deadly hitman,” he said. "So I guess I should look at it as an adventure. Like something in one of my books.”
“That’s right; Uncle Sid said that you write thrillers,” Mark said.
He nodded. “I never thought that I’d get to act one out,” he remarked.
Mark laughed in as cracked sort of way. “Well, I never thought that I’d owe a ton of money to a Russian gangster, or end up being a guy’s…what did you call it again? Dogsbody?”
“Yes.”
“Is that even a real word?” Mark demanded suspiciously.
He chuckled, relief making his laughter feel very good. “Yes, it is. I swear. It’s a British word for a drudge. I suppose the American word for it would be a ‘gofer’.”
“So why not just say gofer? You’re not British,” Mark asked.
He grinned. “I’m a huge fan of a British TV show called BlackAdder,” he told Mark. “The main character had a servant named Baldrick, and in the early Regency season Baldrick was his dogsbody. I just liked the term, that’s all. It sounded better than gofer.”
Mark snorted. “If you say so, Boss,” he said dryly. “ And what you say goes…at least for the next year of my life, that is.”
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David looked uneasily at the address that Mark had directed him to, a seedy-looking, run-down concrete structure in a VERY bad neighborhood. “Umm…are you sure that this is a good idea?” he asked uncertainly.
Mark sighed, shucking out of his seatbelt reluctantly. “No, but I don’t want to give Vlad any notice that I’m coming. I just want to get in, give him the money, and get out. Hopefully with my skin intact. I’ll be right back - I hope,” he said with a rather tremulous smile, getting out of the rental car with the envelope containing the cashier’s check gripped in his right hand.
David did some gripping of his own, namely the steering wheel, as he watched Mark walk toward the rust-laced steel door set in the side of the grim structure. He wanted to go in with Mark, but what kind of protection could a mere writer of suspense novels provide? His characters all knew martial arts and how to shoot a gun, but he didn’t. He wouldn’t be of any use to Mark in there, but that didn’t stop him from wishing that he could go in with the young actor. Even though he broke out in a sweat at the mere thought, because facing down a Russian gangster wasn’t his idea of a good time…
Time passed, and he became more and more worried. What was happening in there?! He pulled out the cell phone he’d retrieved from his bag, preparing to call the cops if Mark didn’t emerge soon. But just as he did so, the door to the structure swung open and a large man in a dark suit came out and walked toward his car. He tensed, his breath faltering, as the man came up to the rental car and tapped on the window. He rolled it down, very reluctantly. “Yes?” he said, amazed that he managed to keep his voice even and calm. “Can I help you?”
“You come in,” the man said in heavily-accented English. “Vlad wishes to speak to you.”
“Me? Why?” David asked.
The man shrugged. “He does not tell me why. You come,” he added menacingly, and David swallowed heavily before getting out of the car. What other choice did he have? He suspected that if he didn’t come of his own volition, the man had instructions to ‘encourage’ him in various ways that he was sure that he wouldn’t like at all. His legs were trembling a little, as he followed the Russian man toward the concrete building.
Inside, he saw that the building was a large, mostly-empty space with small, grimy widows up near the ceiling that let in little light. But that was made up for by banks of lights here and there, and they threw a pool of light on a Persian rug set on the bare concrete floor, and a long leather couch sitting on the rug. Mark was standing tensely beside this couch, his face a mask.
While David could see a few men standing here and there in the big room, only one of them was sitting on the couch. Lounging, actually, and smoking a nasty-smelling cigarette. His arm was around a blonde in a tight red mini-skirt, who looked bored and was painting her nails a violent shade of scarlet. The man in the suit led him over to where Mark was standing, and the younger man gave him an apologetic glance before he spoke.
“Hey, Darren,” he said, making David stare at him. “I was just telling Vlad here about why you gave me the money to pay off my debt,” his voice was casual, but with undertones of fear in it.
“Err…you were?” David said uncertainly, wondering silently what was going on.
“Yes,” Mark nodded his head firmly, shooting David a warning glance. “I told him that you’d agreed to be my new sugar daddy, that the money essentially means that you own me. Right?”
“Uh, yeah,” he agreed, not sure what Mark was doing but knowing that it wouldn’t be a great idea to contradict him at this point. “That’s right.”
“See? I told you, Vlad,” Mark said to the man seated on the couch. “I met him today when I was cruising Hollywood Boulevard, trying to make some money so that I could get out of town before you could find me. He called me over to his car, and propositioned me. And I’d much rather be one guy’s sex slave, than a whore for anybody who has a buck to spend. Even if he slaps me around a little, it’s still a better offer. So I took it, and he gave me the money, but he insisted on coming down here with me to make sure that you didn’t try to steal his property,” he went on.
The man on the couch spoke in a deep rumble of a voice. “Mark tells me that you work for the Calavara Cartel,” he said, his black eyes seeming to be trying to bore through David’s brain, “As a free-lance contractor. Is this true?”
David’s mouth opened a little, but he recovered quickly and said as casually as he could manage: “That’s right.”
Vlad frowned. “He is not talkative,” he noted.
“So what? He didn’t buy me for my conservation,” Mark said.
He got a cold glance for this statement. “He does not look like anything special.”
Mark laughed at that, taking David by surprise. “Oh? And your best killers don’t all look like librarians?” he sneered, folding his arms over his chest.
Vlad shrugged. “Da, this is so. Pyotr, he could be accountant. And he cuts throats like an artist,” he made a slashing movement over his own throat, and David wondered if it would be okay to faint. Maybe not, but he’d much rather have had that option on the table…
Vlad’s eyes came back to his face, studying him. “You must be good,” he noted with reluctant respect, “To work for the Calavara Cartel. They only hire the best, especially white men. White men can go places that most of them can’t, not without making everyone suspicious. But still…how am I to know that he is telling the truth?” he nodded at Mark. “Or that you are?”
David cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, but the Cartel didn’t give me an employee badge when they hired me,” he told Vlad in a voice that was so calm that it didn’t seem to be his own. “But if you want to call them and check on my credentials, you go right ahead…”
Vlad stared up at him, then began to laugh darkly. “That is good one,” he replied. “But as we have had…misunderstandings…in the past, they and I don’t get along very well. They would not be happy with me if I called them - or messed with one of their hitmen, either. Okay. You take your boy and get lost, eh? I’ve got my money, I’m good. You enjoy your new property, Darren.”
“I’m sure I will,” David replied, as Mark came to his side. He took the younger man’s arm in a way that he knew looked proprietary, and led him away toward the door. He felt like he had a bullseye on his back the entire time, and he flinched a little when the man in the dark suit who’d first come to get him opened the door for them with a clang. They walked out into the sunlight together, and he’d never been happier to see it in his entire life.
They made it to the rental car, the man in the dark suit watching them the entire time. He got behind the wheel, and Mark got into the passenger’s side and did up his seatbelt with shaking fingers. David didn’t know how he got the car started, but all he wanted to do was get away from this building and the dangerous Russian gangster inside of it. So he put it in reverse and backed up, not saying anything until they were driving down the street. Mark didn’t say anything at first either, so the car was filled with silence.
Until Mark finally spoke, that was. “I’m really sorry, David,” he breathed. “I didn’t want to get you mixed up in this, but Vlad wanted to know where I’d gotten the money from to pay him. I tried to tell him that it was from my uncle, but he didn’t believe me. And I suspected that he was thinking of making me work in his stable anyway, even though I’d paid him back. I could see it in his eyes. So I made up that story about a sugar daddy on the spot, but then he wanted to meet him. You did so well, going along with my story! I was terrified that you’d lose it, and we’d both be in hot water. I almost peed my pants when Sergei dragged you in, but then you kept your cool…and Vlad believed me, holy Christ…I can’t believe that worked!”
“I can’t either,” David replied. “He really thought that I was a hitman?”
“Yeah. Because I’ve seen HIS hitmen before, and most of them are the most unassuming-looking guys ever. That Pyotr guy…” he shivered visibly, hugging himself. “He’s totally scary, even though he looks like he should be working at the DMV. And I know that Vlad and the Calavara Cartel are mortal enemies, because I heard him talking to one of his guys about it. Thank God they were speaking in English, because I don’t know Russian…I figured that if my new sugar daddy worked for the Cartel, Vlad wouldn’t hassle him because he doesn’t want to start a war with them. He knows that he’d lose; his operation is a lot smaller than theirs is. I took a chance. And oh, boy, am I glad that I was right…”
“So am I,” David said fervently.
“I’m really sorry that I got you mixed up in that,” Mark said apologetically, running a hand through his wavy dark hair.
“You had no choice; I understand that,” David told him. “I’m just glad that I managed to go along with it, and that Vlad believed you. I’ve never been so scared in my entire life.”
“Me, either,” Mark agreed, slumping back in his seat.
David smiled ruefully. “Well, it’s not every day that I get to be a deadly hitman,” he said. "So I guess I should look at it as an adventure. Like something in one of my books.”
“That’s right; Uncle Sid said that you write thrillers,” Mark said.
He nodded. “I never thought that I’d get to act one out,” he remarked.
Mark laughed in as cracked sort of way. “Well, I never thought that I’d owe a ton of money to a Russian gangster, or end up being a guy’s…what did you call it again? Dogsbody?”
“Yes.”
“Is that even a real word?” Mark demanded suspiciously.
He chuckled, relief making his laughter feel very good. “Yes, it is. I swear. It’s a British word for a drudge. I suppose the American word for it would be a ‘gofer’.”
“So why not just say gofer? You’re not British,” Mark asked.
He grinned. “I’m a huge fan of a British TV show called BlackAdder,” he told Mark. “The main character had a servant named Baldrick, and in the early Regency season Baldrick was his dogsbody. I just liked the term, that’s all. It sounded better than gofer.”
Mark snorted. “If you say so, Boss,” he said dryly. “ And what you say goes…at least for the next year of my life, that is.”
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