8 Mile & Rion (2 page)

‘You've got to work hard for your success and you've got to have a steady presence. That's the secret.’
 

~Kid Rock

“What is it, Rio?” I groan, squeezing the bridge of nose willing this headache to vacate the premises. I’ve been here for days trying to fix this, get ahead or, at the very least, figure out a way to break even. For every bill I find there’s four more screaming at me. Senior has roughly one hundred thousand in debt owed to the business alone. Considering the average bet, that is literally years of not collecting. Bookies collect. It’s what we do, Senior knew that, enforced that. So why in the hell didn’t he do something about it? Though we own the building free and clear, it looks like we owe or rather,
I
now owe, almost two hundred thousand dollars total now for about a thousand different reasons.

Unpaid taxes, personal loans, business loans and enforcer bank roll adds up quickly. Add to that the about face he did years ago forcing me into college, yet not bothering to stay current on the loans for said college. He swore they were paid and refused my money as contribution to my education. No matter which angle I take, I can’t fathom how he let it go this far for this long or why he lied about it.

“Got a note that came due,” Rio says throwing the paper down interrupting my pity party. “Failure to pay, Junior. He put his house up as collateral and now we can collect before the bank takes it.”

“Call Kelly and see what it’s worth,” I say. As the head enforcer he keeps an eye on the other enforcers making sure everything is legit. Right now though, enforcer’s means three total including Rio. I can’t afford to hire more. My job is to get referrals, place bets and their job is to collect on those debts. I make money, they make money. Rio is short for Ricardo and if you call him that, he’ll hit you. The day we met him he told us both he only answers to Rio, period. He’s been my best friend since I was a kid and he’s a big man. A gigantic man who is meaner than a shark but sweeter than a doe if that’s possible. He also had my father’s back when I was ‘getting educated’. He’s also an ex-con which makes him handy in certain situations too. “Did you know?” I ask him. “You knew we were broke, didn’t you?”

“No,” he says, looking pained. “I didn’t know. He never said a word. But you need to know, the house we’re taking back belonged to Henry’s old man.” Wow, I hadn’t heard that name in an age. The moment I did, a few memories surfaced but that’s all there was. I knew his old man was an asshole and a horrible gambler. Last I heard he’d passed on too. I was never allowed near his old man, for some reason Senior strongly disliked him, so I never got to know him. If Senior didn’t like someone, he had good reason. Senior could find the good in anybody.

“Make this tonight’s last stop, change the locks and secure the premises. I want these accounts paid up yesterday, Rio. We can’t let this type of shit go any longer. Send the rookie’s, but make sure the house is vacant and doesn’t have any squatters. I don’t want anyone getting hurt over this. Also, remind them they aren’t cops anymore. They don’t follow that code any longer and bail money isn’t in the budget.”

“If anyone can save this place it’s you, Junior. He knew that. He wanted more for you but this is where you belong, you know it as well as I do.” He says, kissing me on the forehead on his way out. “Welcome home, babe.”

“Rio?” I ask stopping him from leaving. “I quit my job,” I confess. “I missed this. Every day. I’m going to give this one hundred percent but, if I can’t make it work---”

“If Junior can fix it, it ain’t a problem,” he smiles, quoting my father. “Senior used to drive me nuts with that shit, putting so much pressure on you. But it’s true. You’re home. You’ll fix things. Hell, maybe we can even get you fixed in the process.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ll report back later.”

“Rio!” I called out but he had already closed the door on me. Dammit, I don’t need to be fixed. Do I?

Doesn’t matter if I did. I have bigger problems right now. Like how do I continue to pay a crew with no escrow? If I’m being realistic, I know most of our clients use ‘beards’, someone they know that bets on their behalf so they remain anonymous. Trying to collect on those will be tricky. Not impossible, just… tricky.

People move, people forget and here? People are broke. Just like that, my mood went in the shitter again. What we do is on the hush, hush. Of course people know we do it. It’s like a secret that everyone is in on but knows better than to talk about. We’ve got politicians, law enforcement, doctors, house wives and every other type of person you can think of betting with us. Bottom line was, if people think they can bet and not pay, which I think is the case, then I’m in deep shit. I can’t run a business like that. We’ll never survive. Shit, we’re not surviving now.
Deep breathes,
I tell myself. We’ll start with taking the house back. That’s step one.

Step two is selling everything I own.

Baby steps, it’s all about baby steps.

I can do this.

I can do this.

I know I can fucking do this.

‘If it looks good, you'll see it. If it sounds good, you'll hear it. If it’s marketed right, you'll buy it. But... If it’s real... you'll feel it.’

~Kid Rock

Falling asleep here is nearly impossible. I made a roll out on the second floor closest to the stairs so I can have the advantage in the event anyone tries to break in like I did. The moment my lids starts to close I’m assailed with memories. Not memories of my last tour, but of
her
. The whore that put me in the position I’m in right now. I didn’t have to take the last job. I took it because she swore we needed the money and since saying no to her only ends with me having heartburn and her having her way, I went.

I met her in high school. I played football, she was a cheerleader. Small towns left you with few options. Her parents had some money, more than my foster family did, and she was the only daughter, therefore spoiled. Football players dated cheerleaders, period. She said she loved me, was proud and that she would wait for me. In the beginning she did all of those things. At one point I even thought I loved her too and when she said she was pregnant, I did the right thing and married her.

She wasn’t pregnant and she didn’t love me. Now I had a wife to take care of and since our apartment wasn’t enough, I sent her almost all of my money to buy a home and put her through school. She got her degree in Accounting, she got the house she wanted and when I came home a shell of a man from my final tour, I was greeted with her getting fucked from behind on my god damned bed. A bed I’d bought but never even slept in. At that point, I didn’t even have it in me to beat the guy’s naked ass. I didn’t love her. Hell, I didn’t even like her, so I picked up my bag, caught a flight with the cash in my pocket, tracked my brother down and here I am.

Thing is, I didn’t like the house, the overpriced shit in it, or the neighborhood it sat in. It wasn’t about the house itself. I just needed a place to regroup. Taking a deep breathe, I decided this vacant house isn’t any better or worse than the conditions I’ve endured before and said fuck it. For now, this place was as good as any.

I probably slept about two hours when I heard it.

The front door being pried opened, followed by voices. These idiots weren’t even trying to be quiet. Getting dressed I make my way toward the steps to wait. There were two of them, young and stupid. They were in the kitchen making a huge racket. I didn’t know what their game was, but as far as I was concerned, they were a threat.

I approached them silently and they don’t notice me until I’m on them. Taking the biggest one out was easy. One hit to the back of the head and he went down. The second one tried telling me no one was supposed to be there, but I shut him up too. Now they’re both unconscious and I’m going through their pockets to clean them out. In one I found a business card, in the other I found foreclosure papers and some notice from the bank that made no sense to me.

But the business card that said “Rion Reynolds, Sr.” with an address on it, did.

Taking everything with me, I grab my boots and decided to pay this asshole a visit today.

In person.

‘I am the result of the good choices I've made and the bad choices.’

~Madonna

Last night I finished setting up the new database we’d be using and I hope I never have to do that again. My dad didn’t trust computers and getting this office updated was crucial and time consuming. Catching a whiff of something foul reminded me it’s been days since I’ve seen a shower. It smelled stale in here, was it me? Probably, okay yes it was me. Dry shampoo and deodorant wouldn’t work forever and I knew it. But hygiene could wait, the business could not. Sitting down in my dad’s chair that still smells of him, I made a mental note to sleep. If I’ve slept five hours since the funeral, I’d be amazed. There’s just so much to do, so many loose ends to tie up and I hadn’t even grieved yet. Weeks ago, my friend Lina sent me two ex-cops who needed work badly and were cool with the shit pay as long as they didn’t have to hustle on the streets. Lina along with her friends, turned the Detroit Police Department inside out when she took out an attorney who was threatening cops to do his dirty work. My two newest recruits were the result of that and they were still learning the ropes.

“Second chances,” Senior always said, “everyone deserved one.”

So they got it. Along with all of my other responsibilities, I had to make sure those two didn’t get hurt on my watch. Being a cop is one thing. Being an enforcer is a whole different set of rules. The people we collect from don’t have any which meant anything went. Collecting by force is a last resort; even then it’s only if someone tries using force on us first. Betting isn’t a violent business but believe me, it can be.

My concern reached new levels when neither of my guys checked in last night. Securing the locks and leaving our notice should have taken an hour, tops and they haven’t come back to check in. Reminding myself they are grown capable men, I feel my lids start to droop and decided to close my eyes for fifteen minutes. That’s all I need, just fifteen minutes. More than sleep, I just need this headache to go away.

“Get up.”

I hear the order but my door is locked so it can’t be someone talking to me. It’s the middle of the night and we don’t let clients in without an appointment. Ignoring the voice, I try to get back to that sweet place where your mouth falls open and your limbs get heavy just before sleep takes you.

But when my desk is jolted hard, my hand supporting my chin slips and my face meets the desk with surprising force. Letting out a squeal from the surprise then a moan for the pain, I check my nose for blood finding none. However, it’s when I lifted my head up that my breath died in my throat.

Uh oh, not good.

“You up? I got your attention?”

Slowly reaching under the desk drawer for the 9mm I keep there, his eyes narrow at me and he shakes his head. “I wouldn’t,” was all he said so valuing my life, I didn’t.

“The door was locked,” I tell him with as much authority as I can muster because the man in front of me is terrifying. He looks mean, he looks murderous and he’s eye balling me. If I thought Rio was big, it’s only because I hadn’t laid eyes on this monster. Mental note: get a serious security system and maybe a dog with rabies.

“Now it ain’t.”

“Well, now that I’m wide awake, what can I help you with Mr—”

“My name ain’t important,” he says, throwing my dad’s business card on my desk. “I’m looking for Rion. Get him.”

“Can’t.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said, ‘I can’t’ in perfect English.”

“I’m not playing games with you, little girl,” he says, looking me over like I’m diseased. Little girl? Really? I’m thirty, but hey, I’ll take a compliment where I can get one. “You sent two idiots to break into my house. Now those two idiots are on the kitchen floor. Get Rion. He and I are going to have some words.”