“Just go, Squeak,” I repeated.
“I can wait a few,” he said but then his phone buzzed again, and he put it to his ear. “Hey. Yeah, I got it, but I’m with Scooby.” He glanced at me. “Sundance’s orders.” He nodded, then nodded again before sliding his phone into his pocket. “Rocky’s on his way, so I’m gonna go.”
“Fuck me,” I breathed out.
“Please promise me you won’t do anything or go anywhere until he gets here, okay?” Squeaker begged. “Sundance’ll have my ass if you do something stupid.”
I flipped him off and he let out a nervous laugh, sliding out of his seat, and heading toward the exit.
I was alone for less than a minute before a dude dressed like an investment banker slid into the booth across from me. My hand went straight to my gun, but I kept it holstered, hidden from Sid’s bouncers. Earl Jacoby owned the pub and he set the rules, but Sid enforced them, and Sid was not a man you wanted to cross.
“You lost, asshole?”
“I’m not armed.” He flattened his palms on the table. “I’m also not here for trouble.”
“What a fucking relief, I was about to piss myself with fear.”
“I need some assistance,” he said.
“The door is that way.” I pointed to the exit. “There’s a Starbucks one block down to the left. There’s you’re fucking assistance.”
“No. I’m in the right place,” he replied.
“I highly fucking doubt it.”
“You’re Scooby, of the Primal Howlers, right?”
“And you can read,” I said, pointing to the name patch on my cut.
“Big Tommy gave me your name.”
“Who?” I asked, playing dumb. Of course, I knew who Big Tommy was. Everyone in the game new him. He was a connecter. No matter what the need may be, Tommy always ‘knew a guy’ that could help. For a cut of the fee, of course.
“I’m looking to hire someone to do a job for me.”
“This is a bar, jackwad. Not the employment office.”
“The thing... well, the thing is,” he stuttered. “When Big Tommy told me about you, I knew right away you were the guy for the job.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Everyone in town knows not to mess around with the Primal Howlers. When I was a kid, I’d see your club’s patch everywhere.”
“Good for you.” I tipped my drink toward him in salute. “Keep looking. Maybe someday you’ll find Waldo.”
“I was told I’d find the kind of man I was looking for in here and I think I’ve found him.”
“Look, I don’t know what you and Big Tommy have goin’ on, but youdefinitelyhave the wrong fuckin’ bar.”
“No, I’m not looking for…sex. Just hear me out,” he begged. “Please.”
Chalk it up to being half in the bag, needing a distraction from the grief of my brother just dying, or maybe just plain old-fashioned curiosity, but I decided I’d hear him out.
I looked at my watch. “You got a minute or two until my associate gets here and I can finish getting drunk, so start talking.”
“I need someone…” he looked over both shoulders nervously, “taken care of.”
“Who the fuck do you think you’re talkin’ to?” I hissed. “Get the fuck outta here, pig.”