Being the boss sucked sometimes, I thought as I rubbed my hands over my face. Fucking paperwork multiplies when you aren't looking.
I was getting ready to call it quits when Tank, my second in command, walked in and sat in the chair across from my desk. Saying nothing, he leaned back and shut his eyes. "We need help. Someone to do this shit."
I agree. "Yeah, it's time." Glancing at my watch and seeing it's after 8:00 already, I tell him, "Get Rodriguez on it tomorrow. Go home."
My phone beeped with a text. From Lester - what now?
Opening it as I pushed back from my desk, I stopped midway up and ground out "What the FUCK?"
Tank, instantly on alert, stood up. "What?"
"I'm going to kill him."
Tank always has my back, especially in jest when I need it, "Who are we killing now, man? I need food first - this paperwork is killing ME."
"Lester." I flipped him my phone. "Fucking Lester. Hands the fuck OFF."
Tank studied the picture and smirked, the fucker. "I could go for some Shorty's."
Ten minutes later we were walking into a packed Shorty's. I spotted Lula's neon first and saw my guys and Stephanie and Lula squeezed around a too-small table drinking and laughing. Luckily for Lester's health, Steph was sitting next to Lester and not ON him.
I know Lester. I trust him. I trust him at my back in a shitstorm. And I know what he intended when he sent that text. So, here I am asshole and, yeah, hands the fuck OFF.
Lester saw me coming, saw my death glare, and just grinned like an idiot. Stephanie's sensor must have been a little slow tonight with the alcohol in her system because I got within three feet of her before she rubbed her neck. Her curly hair was partially tied back and falling half way down her back, covering most of what her tank top didn't cover.
Turning, and in the exaggerated way of drunk people everywhere, her already big blue eyes got even bigger when she saw me.
Lester, the dumbass, piped in with, "So what brings you out tonight, Boss?"