‘I’m not weak.’
‘I didn’t say you were. I said where they think you’re weak.’ She rose, set the Scotch down next to him, eased herself down into his lap. ‘And the club is a weak point.’ She started to rub his temples slightly. His erection returned, full force, despite the talk of lost money, with this weird-irritating-beautiful woman sitting on his lap.
‘The club makes a fortune,’ he said.
She squirmed ever so slightly against him. ‘Oh, it does. So it’s going to attract attention. You got every male celebrity comes through Houston stopping off here. You got thousands being spent every night. You got the best- looking women in Texas dancing on your stage and doing private entertainments in the rooms.’ She kissed him once, feathery light, and when she pulled away he leaned a little toward her, wanting more. ‘But you got too much money being spent, too much being skimmed, too much sex being sold. It’s gonna… explode.’ She leaned down, kissed him again, let her tongue tease against his.
‘I shut the club down, you’ll be out of a job.’
‘Give me a new job,’ Tasha Strong said. ‘I’m gonna finish dancing for you. Then I’m gonna screw you good tonight. But because I want to. You try to give me money, I slap you into tomorrow. I like you. I like your smile.’ She ran a finger along his lips. He stopped her with his hand.
‘You’ve talked a lot,’ he said, and he put an edge in his voice, the way his father used to. He liked, no, loved the way she was talking to him but he couldn’t let her see that. ‘Where’s the proof against Frank?’
‘In your computers. I copied the files. In case Frank or Eve get wise…’
‘Eve’s in on this?’
‘She’s got twice the brains Frank does. No way she doesn’t know he’s skimming.’ Tasha Strong unhooked one of the CDs off her top. ‘I’m wearing the proof, baby.’ Her other hand strayed down to his crotch. ‘You want to go home with me and start it up?’
Bucks suddenly realized he was outnumbered.
Chauffeuring the Miami dumbasses wasn’t a big deal but he realized, as he pulled out into the thick traffic of Westheimer, he should have brought a buddy to watch his back. It was two against one. But Kiko and Jose were laughing, a little drunk, rating the dancers as if jiggling were an Olympic event. He decided to take the long way home, wanting to hear what they might say about the deal. He pulled onto Loop 610, taking it toward I-10 East, which would lead toward the glittering towers of downtown Houston. He loved the city, loved its happy chaos, loved the way people drove like maniacs, loved the way the humid air held endless opportunity, even in the bad suck-ass years. Houston made you tough, tough to grab the chances that came your way, tough enough to persevere when the world soured.
Kiko leaned over the dashboard, fiddled with the tape player, and suddenly Chad Channing’s confident voice filled the air. ‘Make your goals your friends, not your enemies. They are not to be challenged or overcome. They are to be embraced. Love your goals as you love yourself.’
‘What’s this peace, love, and understanding?’ Jose called from the back seat.
‘It’s Chad Channing,’ Kiko said. ‘Don’t you ever watch infomercials, man? He sells thousands of these tapes to’ – he paused as though searching for the word that would not insult – ‘people who need a little boost.’
‘Discover the goals within yourself as you discover your love for yourself,’ Chad purred on the tape. ‘They’re right under the skin, in fact. We’re all motivated by goals we haven’t even discovered or articulated yet.’
‘It’s better than coffee for getting me going,’ Bucks said, but suddenly he felt a little uncool. He felt Kiko’s gaze on him, amused, and he swallowed a thick lump in his throat. He clicked off the tape.
‘Oh, man, I wanted to hear more,’ Jose said. ‘I haven’t had a good arti-cu-lation in a long while.’
‘Hey, Jose, this tape is Bucks’ secret weapon,’ Kiko said. ‘How he stays so cool, so tough, all the time.’ Like it was funny.
‘That’s right.’ Bucks kept his voice steady. Greasy little bastards. He hated them both with a blackness that filled his chest. Thought they were clever when they were not worth the grit under his shoe.
As he merged onto 1-10 Bucks felt a tickle at the back of his neck. He glanced into the rearview mirror and saw Jose smiling at him. Kiko, sitting in the passenger’s seat, said, ‘Because you’re so tough and cool, Mr Tight-Ass Executive, I know you aren’t going to freak.’
The barrel of a pistol. That was the tickle along his nape. Jose held the Sig up so Bucks could see it, then put it back at Bucks’ throat. ‘We ain’t gonna hurt you, okay?’
‘Man, we’re all friends.’ Bucks was more surprised than scared. Shooting him while he was doing seventy on a Houston highway wasn’t real bright.
‘You’re right. We’re friends. But I wouldn’t hit a bump in the road right how,’ Kiko said. He carefully eased the Beretta out of Bucks’ back holster, Bucks even leaning forward a little to make it easier, deciding to cooperate.
‘Houston is pothole city, man, you can’t avoid bumps. Jesus, put the gun up,’ Bucks said. Suddenly he was watching the highway for ruts that could jar the car, blast his brains across the windshield. ‘You don’t want to sour your deal with Paul.’
‘No, we don’t,’ Kiko said. ‘But we want to have a private chat with you. Because we like you.’
‘I like your name,’ Jose said. His voice was low, hard, like it was won in a fight. In the mirror Bucks saw Jose’s peasant face break into a grin. ‘Bucks. You’re what makes the world go round.’
‘Take the next exit,’ Kiko ordered.
‘This is a bad idea, guys…’ Bucks started.
‘ “Delays have dangerous ends,” ’ Jose said. ‘Willie Shakespeare was right, man. Do what you’re told.’
Take the next exit,’ Kiko repeated. Bucks took the Shepherd exit. He had a little. 25 caliber gun strapped above his ankle; not a cannon but put it up to Kiko’s eye, it’d get the job done. Of course Jose would blow his head open. While pretending to quote Shakespeare to act like he was smart.
Bucks turned onto Shepherd as Kiko directed. ‘Go to that Waffle House,’ Kiko said. ‘I like ’em better than IHOP, they don’t have that fresh ’n’ fruity crap.’
‘My grandma likes that plate,’ Jose said. ‘It’s also rooty-tooty.’
‘She’s their target market,’ Kiko agreed.
Bucks turned the Jag into the Waffle House lot. They wouldn’t kill him at a busy restaurant, he decided. Jose moved the pistol away from the back of his head but Kiko pressed Bucks’ gun against the flat of Bucks’ belly, where it would deliver a nice, crippling gut shot.
He parked at the back of the lot, still calm, weighing how he could get to his ankle gun. Wondering what they wanted. If he would be alive in five minutes.
‘Paul’s going to be calling for me soon.’ Bucks clicked off the engine.
‘Not with his eyes full of big boobs,’ Jose said.
‘You’re new to this line of work, aren’t you?’ Kiko asked.
‘Yes, but I went to business school with Paul,’ Bucks said.
‘I heard he flunked out,’ Kiko said.
‘Yeah.’ Bucks tried not to look at the gun pressed against his abs. ‘But we stayed in touch. I called him when he moved down to Houston with his family.’
‘Because a friend whose family is mob might be handy?’ Jose said.
‘I like Paul, he’s cool,’ Bucks said.
Kiko cocked his head. ‘You were at Energis.’
Bucks’ tongue turned to sandpaper. ‘Yeah, I worked there. For a while.’
‘As an energy trading exec, right?’ Kiko said.
‘Man, and people say we’re crooks,’ Jose said. ‘That company robbed the whole country.’
‘You left Energis,’ Kiko said. ‘Right before the financial meltdown.’
‘You sound like a lawyer,’ Bucks said. ‘Asking questions you already know the answers to.’
‘Why’d you leave the company?’ Kiko said.
Now Bucks said nothing.
‘See, being a businessman,’ Kiko said, ‘I follow the news. Three Energis energy traders went missing after a night out drinking. Murdered. Bodies and car dumped into Galveston Bay. Looked like a robbery went wrong.’
‘That’s what it was,’ Bucks said. ‘I knew those guys.’
‘Sure you did. They all worked in your group. Then, six weeks later, your division’s at the heart of the Energis multibillion-dollar collapse.’
‘Tragedy surrounded me,’ Bucks said, ‘at that time in my life.’
