walk. Designer sunglasses. Designer cologne that smelled suspiciously like insect repellent. Aaron was the pure definition of “supersmooth”-just ask him, he’d tell you.
He smiled widely. “Nice to see you, Myron.”
They shook hands. Myron did not squeeze. He was far too mature. That, and Aaron could probably squeeze harder. “Have a seat.”
“Wonderful.” Aaron made a production of it, spreading out his arms as if he were wearing a cloak. He removed his sunglasses with an audible snap. “I like your office. It’s really great.”
“Thank you.”
“Great address. Great view.”
The password is
Aaron laughed as if that were the gem of gems. “No,” he said. “I don’t like being cooped in an office. It’s not my style. I like my freedom. I like being out on my own, on the road. I wouldn’t do well chained to a desk.”
“Wow, that’s fascinating, Aaron. Really.”
He laughed again. “Ah, Myron, you haven’t changed a bit. I’m glad to see it.”
They hadn’t seen each other since high school. Myron had gone to Livingston High School in New Jersey. Aaron had gone to his archenemy, West Orange High. The teams played each other twice a year, and it was rarely a pleasant encounter.
In those days Myron’s best friend was a huge ox named Todd Midron. Todd was a big, softhearted, simple kid with a lisp. He played Lenny to Myron’s George. He was also the toughest kid Myron had ever met.
Todd never lost a fight. Never. No one ever came close to him. He was just too powerful. During a game their senior year, Aaron undercut and nearly injured Myron Todd took exception. He went after Aaron. Aaron destroyed him. Myron tried to help his friend, but Aaron shrugged Myron off like a dandruff flake. He continued to pulverize Todd, steadily, methodically, glaring at Myron the whole time, not even glancing at his limp victim. The beating was ferocious. By the time it ended, Todd’s face was an unrecognizable pulpy mess. Todd spent four months in a hospital. His jaw was wired shut for nearly a year.
“Hey,” Aaron said. He pointed to a movie still on the wall. “That’s Woody Allen and what’s-her-name.”
“Diane Keaton.”
“Right, Diane Keaton.”
“Is there something I can do for you?” Myron asked.
Aaron turned his whole body toward Myron. The glare from his shaved chest was nearly blinding. “I think there is, Myron. In fact, I think there’s something we can do for each other.”
“Oh?”
“I represent a competitor of yours. A certain dispute has arisen between the two of you. My client wishes to settle it peacefully.”
“Are you an attorney now, Aaron?”
He smiled. “Not likely.”
“Oh.”
“I am referring to a young man named Chaz Landreaux. He recently signed a contract with your company, MB SportReps.”
“I thought of the name myself.”
“Pardon me.”
“MB SportReps. I came up with the name by myself.”
Aaron renewed his smile. It was a good smile. Lots of teeth. “There is a problem with the contract.”
“Do tell.”
“You see, Mr Landreaux has also signed a contract with Roy O’Connor at TruPro Enterprises, Incorporated. The contract predates yours. So you see the problem: Your contract is invalid.”
“Why don’t we let a court of law decide that?”
He sighed deeply. “My client feels it is in everyone’s best interest to avoid litigation.”
“Gee, what a surprise. So what does your client suggest?”
“Mr. O’Connor would be willing to pay you for your time.”
“Very generous of him.”
“Yes.”
“And if I say no?”
“We hope it won’t come to that.”
“But if it does?”
Aaron sighed, stood, leaned on Myron’s desk. “I’ll be forced to make you disappear.”
“Like in a magic trick?”
“Like in dead.”
Myron put his hand to his chest. “Gasp. Oh. Gasp.”
Aaron laughed again, this time without humor. “I know all about your tae kwon do display in the garage. But that guy was a stupid musclehead. I am not. I boxed professionally. I’m a black belt in jujitsu and a grand master in aikido. I’ve killed people.”
“I bet that looks good on a resume,” Myron said.
“Let me put this in very simple terms for you, Myron: You fuck with us, I’ll kill you.”
“Shiver. Tremble.” Myron was not quite as confident as his sarcasm, but he knew better than to show fear. Guys like Aaron are like dogs. They smell fear, they pounce.
Aaron laughed again. He was laughing a lot today. He was either very amused or had been sniffing gas. He turned his back and walked to the door. “This is your final warning,” he said. “Landreaux honors his contract with Mr. O’Connor, or both of you end up worm food.”
Worm food. First oatmeal. Now worm food.
“I like you, Myron. I’d really hate to see something bad happen. But you understand.”
“Business is business.”
“Exactly.”
Esperanza appeared at the door.
Aaron gave her a sharklike smile. “Well, well,” he said. Then he followed up with his best big-guy wink. Esperanza managed to keep her clothes on. Amazing restraint.
“Pick up line two,” she said.
“Listen to this call closely, Myron,” Aaron added with a final grin. “Appreciate the gravity of the situation. And remember. Worm food.”
“Worm food. I’ll keep it in mind.”
Aaron winked at Esperanza again, blew her a kiss, and left.
“Charming,” she said.
“Who’s on the phone?”
“Chaz Landreaux.”
Myron picked up the headset. “Hello.”
“Motherfuckers were at my mom’s!” Chaz shouted. “They told her they were going to cut off my nuts and send them to her in a box! My mother, man! They said this to my mother!”
Myron felt his fingers tighten into fists. “I’ll take care of it,” he said slowly. “They won’t bother her again.”
Enough game playing. It was time to act.
It was time to tell Win about Roy O’Connor.
Win smiled like a kid on a snow day listening to the radio for a school closing. “Roy O’Connor,” he said.
“I don’t want him hurt. Promise me.”
Win’s eyes drifted dreamily. He might have nodded a yes, but Myron couldn’t say for sure.
Chapter 13
Baumgart’s on Palisades Avenue. Their old stomping grounds.
