“Well, guess what? A pretty damn big obstacle is sitting in his way and we know who it is! We can fucking stop it, show our strength, give our guys the confidence they need to keep working with us, and push Moretti back out to West Bumblefuck, USA, where he can lick his wounds because even with his backer, he couldn’t battle the Iazetti family.” I rake a hand through my hair. “Don’t you think that’s a better story?”
“We will stop it,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “But we’re gonna take Dad’s lead because it’s his fucking play! And he’s pretty much already told you where your next job is gonna be because you can’t seem to take direction from me. Maybe you’ll do better under Phoenix.”
I clench my fists, so tempted to hurl one at my brother’s nose.
Jase smirks. “You can barely control yourself, bro. You need to get that shit in check if anyone at the top is gonna take you seriously.”
I swallow the next words that are about to fly out of my mouth because they may get my ass pummeled. Although it’d be worth it to see how my smug-ass brother would react. Such a condescending prick.
A condescending prick who wouldn’t be alive right now if not for me.
But as time goes on, that memory fades more and more. I had a chance to rise up and then I let anger and frustration drive my actions. Years ago, I took the wrong path and I can’t seem to get back on the right one.
Jase pushes open the car door. “Come on, stop wishing me dead and get out of my fucking car. We have some business to handle.”
I get out of the SUV, slamming the door hard, just because I know it pisses him off. Sure enough, he glares at me over his shoulder as he stalks toward the back entrance. He yanks open the heavy metal door and strides through the darkened club like he owns the place. That’s one thing I can say about my brother. No matter what he’s thinking, he never shows up without that air of confidence around him. He may be many bulbs shy of a chandelier, but he makes up for it with attitude.
Still…
I watch as he slaps some guys on the back and shakes hands with a bunch of thug-types at the bar, smiling and nodding at the dancers on stage as they slide up and down their poles.
I wonder how far that confidence will get him since it seems like every time we come to collect, the take is less and less. Is someone gonna take issue with the fact that we’re losing money at these places, the places he’s supposed to be managing?
Because right now, I’m pretty confident that we’re being taken for a fucking ride. And I wonder how much longer it’ll be before Jase realizes it.
He may have swagger, but he’s proven time and time again that he’s got shit for brains.
Another reason why I can’t for the life of me figure out why Dad still has him in charge.
Maybe he figures Jase is the lesser of the evils.
Stupid but loyal?
How much money is Dad really willing to risk?
Unless he thinks with Jase in charge, it gives the look that things are under control?
I guess swapping out your top enforcer makes you look weak when the guy is your son.
I grit my teeth and scout the club. Typical bullshit. Horny dudes palming their dicks, lap dances in every corner, naked chicks in high heels strutting around holding trays full of juice drinks since that’s the law here. No clothes, no booze.
It’s one of the hottest clubs in the area and it makes money hand over fist.
We also do a little dealing on the side — blow, weed, ecstasy — anything to enhance the experience and get these guys to spend more and more money on the top-shelf pussy on display.
We have private rooms for the crazy shit.
Basically, any fantasy can be fulfilled within these walls...but only for a steep price.
I stuff my hands into my pockets and walk over to Jase. He’s huddled together with the manager. Things look copasetic, at least at first glance. But then I inch closer and things don’t sound as friendly as they look.
“I wanna know why you’re short again,” Jase growls.
Aha. So he has noticed. Why hasn’t he said anything to Dad?