Slowly I got out of bed and padded to the window to open the drapes. The view outside was not the one I had become familiar with over the past few years. Gone was the beach front scene I'd had become accustomed to since moving to Miami from Trenton. Even though the 7th-floor penthouse was spacious, it still felt small compared to my ocean front home. Unlike my Trenton penthouse, this apartment did not have Ella's touch. There was no reason it would. My business partner had bought out all my share of Rangeman Atlanta years ago. I had received a call a few months back informing me that the business had gotten away from him. He was well into his golden age and ready to retire and spend his days lying on the beach and spoiling the grandchildren. I had offered to make a trip to help him get his company in good fiscal condition. When I saw how had bad things had gotten, the first thing I did write a check to buy him out. Next, I took his name off everything. Then I relocated Atlanta in order to make this place worthy of being called a branch of Rangeman once again. There were so many mistakes to correct. Half of the employees were going to have to be replaced. They simply were not qualified. The highly trained veterans had been traded in for low-level rent a cop and street thug. All of the continuity that made Range man successful had gone out the window. There was no uniform in place. The fleet cars were not up to standards. All of these things had led to a decline in the quality of clientele. I had a million and one things to do. There was no way I was to be able tackle it all by my self. Tank was back in Trenton trying figure out who we could spare to go help whip this place into to shape. Lester and Hal had recently arrived. Both men had hit the ground running. Hal was spending his time using his connection with military outreach programs to find new hires. Lester was charming his way into new high-end contracts.
I needed a new second in command, an Atlanta version of Tank. As I scanned through the stacks of application Hal had submitted, no one stood out. There was no way Tank was going to relocate with Lula and their kids. I had interviewed dozens of applicants. Not one of them had what I was looking for.
A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts.
"Enter."
"Hey, boss that guy you are looking for. I think I found him," Hal told me.
"Report."
"He's a local guy."
"Military ?"
"Army, special Opps, severed in Afghanistan." He has an MBA in business and finance. The guys over at veteran services say he has excellent leadership skills."
"So when do I meet him and where is his application?"
"That's where it gets complicated."
"Explain."
"The guys over at veterans services said that he has not worked a regular job since his last tour. He takes on odd jobs and bouncers at strip clubs. I think he could be convinced to come on board if you talk to him.I had a background check run on him and I think he would be a great fit for the company," Hal explained as he slid across my desk.
As I flipped through the file I had to admit that Marcus Martinez, was perfect for the job. At an impressive 6'4" and weighing in at well over 250 pounds of what appeared to be solid muscle, he could make Tank do a double take. Martinez was the product of a Mexican mother and an African American father. As a result, he had made street connections both sides of town. An added benefit was that the man was also fluent in Spanish.
Later that night I strolled into the dark strip club alone. Quietly I took a seat in a corner booth away from the stage. The spot allowed me to take in the entire room. From my vantage point, I was quickly able to locate Martinez. I watched as he performed his job with tactical precision. With even calm cool ability, he effortlessly moved from task to task. In the span of just over a couple of hours, Marcus managed to; break up a fight, escort a dancer out to her car, and maintain the line that wrapped around the corner of the strip club. When one of the dancers fell off the stage he jumped into action. Martinez secured the area carried the dancer to a chair and then applied an ice pack before calling an ambulance. This guy was impressive.
"Yo, I'm going on break. You're on deck," Marcus Martinez told another bouncer before heading over to the bar.
Martinez sat at the bar ordered a bottle of water and then turned to face the stage. I could tell he was still taking in the room. I took the opportunity siddle up to Marcus.
"Can I help you man " he said as I approached?
"No, but I think I might me able to help you," I told Martinez.
" Is that why you been over there gwakin at me all night like some sort of a creepy stalker?"
"Carlos Manoso," I said as I offered a handshake. He left me hanging. His eyes never leaving the stage. "I own a company and would like to offer you a ..."
"I already got a job, man."
"I can see that, but a man of your skill set could benefit from an employment opportunity like this. Lucrative salary, 401K, paid vacation and benefits," I explained.
"What would you know about my skill set?" I don't do no 9 - 5s."
I sat down on the stool next to him and for the first time tonight, the dancer on the stage caught my eye. Strip clubs had never really been my thing and tonight was no different. I had come to the club with a clear purpose in focus had been to check out Martinez. Then to make contact and offer him a job. Watching strippers was not on the to-do list. The way she moved was almost was hypnotic. There something familiar about this woman that suddenly had me distracted.
The dancer on the stage had her back turned to the room. She was wearing a sensuous see-through baby doll nighty with a black satin thong and 4 inch clear pumps. With her sexy sculpted back and beautifully long shapely legs, this stripper could be the envy of a ballerina. The soft chestnut color curls on her head bounced rhythmically to the beat of the music as she expertly worked the pole. When she arched into a back bend and looked at the crowd her bright blue eye met mine and my heart stopped.
"Babe?!"
