“All of this I’m ok with but him. Tornado, I think he’s a fake.”
Miles ran his fingers through his steel grey hair. “Warren he is legit, as hardcore as you.”
Warren pulled the cigar out of his mouth. “Don’t sell me that. I read the police reports and any idiot can figure out he’s making a rep on a damn accident. You are smarter than this Miles.” He sat back and pulled deep on the cigar.
Warren Marsh. If you had to describe his look, the best would be “Viking in a suit” The wild blonde hair and beard, the stocky built and the eyes…
Piercing blue that shone constantly with maniac glee and fury. Except when they turned color. But at that point that might be the last thing you see, so who knows what the color is…
The attitude fit as well. Plundering the world for anyone who paid him. Nothing he owned was his originally. His car, his house, even his name…
Miles Steele. Self made man. Earned every cent, how he did it isn’t important. Looks the perfect gentlemen, oozes distinguished down to that perfect steel grey hair. Everything in perfect place….
Except his hands. The scars where a projectile went straight through them. He still can’t clench his fists all the way…
Steele leaned forward trying to close those same hands on Marsh’s arm. “Warren, I vouch for him. Not the company, I do personally. And if my word doesn’t mean anything to you” he held open his arms “why are we here?”
“Never talk that metaphysics crap with me. If you are talking about our meeting, its money. Never…..” leaning forward…
“Never assume this is ever meaning we are friends. You are a conduit to cash. “ Grabbing Steele by the ears like a dog. “A….means…to…an…end.”
The club began to notice the odd sight of one of its prominent members being treated like LBJ’s dog. With a smile and a slap Warren sent Miles back into his chair.
“Ok your word is fine with me. Until such time as it proves to be worthless. Then Mr. Steele you best hope it proves very fatal to me.”
The Maitre’d arrived with two waiters in tow. Warren barely paid them any mind outside of:
“There was a time when you would have asked me if I wanted to have my way with a waitress in the kitchen or if I preferred the cloakroom.” A sip of water.
The Maire’d eyes widened. Marsh seemed to take notice of him.
“In fact back in the back when you were doing their jobs” pointing at the waiters, “I do recall you holding down a few less than cooperative ones for my father. Now don’t tell your name….” he stood up and whispered into the man’s trembling ear:
“Because I bet you don’t want that known, just like I want you to know I am Warren Marsh and that’s what you tell everyone else who asks you that very question are we clear man whose name I don’t recall?”
A gulp “Of course Mr. Marsh.”
“Miles..I think we are done here and you will be paying for lunch. I gotta check on some renovations.”
“The fuck is this?” Warren looked at the gaping carpeted hole in her living room.
“It’s a pit for combative activities. Sonny and Carlos are doing the wiring for it, remember?”
“Yeah, so it is..you fight other woman in here Meg? That’s…nostalgic.” He sat on the ledge.
“Nostalgic? Do you even know what that means?”
“Look at them go son. Cooks vs. maids.” Fingers ran through his long blonde hair. Rings worth thousands, A watch that could have fed a family for a year. The smell of wet earth. His father’s cologne. Screams as someone took a hard shot to the head.
“When do we stop them dad?”
Suppressed laughter “Damn…damned if..I know HA HA HA!”
He joined the laughter. That was quite funny even now.
“Son….you know why I do what I do and don’t answer this is one of those setups for an answer rather than an expectation of one..”
“Rhetorical question”
That sounds so intellectual bullshit that I can’t talk that way anyways, its because if I don’t put people in a pit or hunt the homeless or set a random person on fire..do you know how I would release that energy? On the job.”
“that would be quite awkward. Dad.”
“Exactly. I know scale..perspective. Better the servants than say two countries. Better to burn a fast food employee than an economy. This is the most important lesson I can ever teach you son:
It is the right of the powerful to release their unholy urges so they can guide humanity with purity, but it is their responsibility to confine that release to a small scale. It’s a delicate balance….I think someone died in that pit…hmmmm”
“Warren..you’re smiling. That’s an eerie sight “ Meg snapped her fingers.
He shook his head. “Whoa, that was a trip…Meg, may I tell you a favor you are going to do for me?”
“Why Warren, what could I do for you? If its sex I know to hit you on your head to regain your memory.”
“No it’s a sentimental thing, let me watch the fights you have here. Reminds me of home. Don’t ask just do it.”
He stood up. “Got to go see a man tomorrow. See if we have something in common.”
“What would that be?”
“Killed a kid.”
No comments:
Post a Comment