A/N: Happy Saturday, guys! I'm absolutely thrilled as to how much you guys are enjoying the story, and I hope you enjoy this one. And for those of you who have been reviewing with guest accounts, thank you. I've been reading them all, and I appreciate every single one of them. I wish I could personally reply back to all of them, but alas. Anyways, this chapter goes especially to you amazing guest reviewers. Thanks so much!
Four: Under New Management
"Christ, so you just...Shot him?"
Percy sighed, over the brim of his coffee before taking a sip,
"Yes, I just shot him. But what did you expect me to do, Grover? I was in deep there. Thought if I fucked up even a little, I wouldn't be leaving. Then what good would I be? I had to impress that son of a bitch so I wouldn't get a bullet in the head myself."
Grover sat across from him, as he swallowed down a piece of toast with some difficulty. When it finally went down, he grimaced, before pushing his other two pieces aside.
"And then he just...Shot him."
Percy held back the urge to roll his eyes. After all, Grover was reacting like any other person would to such a graphic story, and perhaps was reacting to it in a calmer fashion,
"Yes. He did. But he's crazy, man...Don't let it get to you."
Grover nodded meekly, before drinking the last bit of his coffee,
"Nah...I won't."
Percy knit his hands around his own cup of coffee, warming them up in the freezing diner. He looked around, somewhat paranoid that Castellan would walk into the diner suddenly. Not that he would, though. To have him be in this area of the city, in the not-so-friendly areas of Brooklyn in a dump of a diner would not only be an insane coincidence but almost hilarious.
"When are you going to see him again?"
"He said he'd call me sometime this morning...Shit!"
Grover looked up suddenly, "What is it?"
"I left him my cell phone number...Which is at my apartment, conveniently."
His friend stood up suddenly, his knees bumping into the table. Their cups, plates and silverware clanked, as Grover grabbed his wallet and tossed some money onto the table,
"I'll give you a ride, then. Let's go."
They rushed outside, Grover walking at an unnerving pace. When Percy got in the car and buckled, Grover had already peeled out of the parking lot and was tearing down the road,
"Jesus, Grover!" Percy raised his voice, "You're going to fucking get us killed!"
The light ahead of them transitioned to red, and his friend screeched to a halt,
"So, what, Percy? So fucking what? Working for this Castellan guy, you're going to get killed either way, man!"
Percy scowled, "Where's this coming from? You're the one who mentioned this job in the first place!"
"I know," He huffed.
"So what's the problem? Why are you just now getting your panties in a bunch about this?"
Grover glanced away, "God, I'm such a fucking idiot!"
Percy also turned away, looking out the window before mumbling,
"Green light."
Grover drove forward, but at a less-threatening speed this time. They went on in silence for a while, sitting in traffic, until his friend spoke up again,
"The only thing I was going to say is that this Castellan guy is fucking crazy, and that I wish I had realized that beforehand, alright? I feel like a jackass for even bringing him up without doing my research."
Percy sunk down into his seat, "Just don't worry about it, man. You didn't know any better."
"And now you're in deep with him."
"Yeah," Percy mumbled, "Balls deep."
"Just..." Grover faltered, "Just watch your back, Perce. Alright?"
"Yeah, yeah. I will."
Grover grabbed the back of his neck, shaking him around a bit,
"You better."
Percy pulled away, concealing a grin,
"Ah, damn it, Grover, knock it off and drive already. Besides, we dealt with sons of bitches at Yancy worse than this clown Castellan."
"Damn right," Grover grunted.
After a few more minutes of driving, Grover veered to the side of the road into a free parking spot. He put the car into park, before sighing,
"Good luck."
Percy climbed out of the car, "Thanks."
"And be careful."
He peered into the car, nodding slowly, before closing the door shut. Percy watched as Grover drove away, before turning and jogging up the steps to the apartment. He stepped inside, before jogging up two flights to the floor of his apartment. Twirling his keys on his finger, he meandered down the hall as he reached it. He unlocked the door, before pushing the door open and wandering in.
Percy kicked the door shut behind him, before stepping into the musty apartment. When he looked up, however, he froze completely in his tracks. Castellan was standing in the middle of his living room, facing him. Like the day before, he was wearing a flashy suit, and in it, he looked extremely out of place as he stood in the middle of the grungy room. He flashed a smile, before cocking his head to one side,
"Hello, Jack. You weren't answering your phone, so I decided to stop by and see where you were."
Percy swallowed, "How did you find this apartment?"
Castellan shrugged casually, before walking over to the kitchen counter. Percy's phone was laying on it, as well as his secondary wallet. He scooped the phone up, regarding the wallet briefly, before handing it to him,
"I like to have extra...Security, you see."
Percy turned the phone over, and saw a tiny and extremely minuscule chip had been stuck onto the back of the phone.
"I put it there when I entered in my number onto your phone last night," Castellan explained, before turning and walking towards the small window in the living room, "After you hadn't replied to my call earlier, I decided to trace the chip. But I suppose what's odd is why you didn't have your phone with you when I did finally track it down."
Percy was silent, and when Castellan turned, he was quick to try and think of a cover story,
"I just forgot to bring it-"
"Bullshit!" Castellan bellowed, smashing his fist against the windowsill, "Bull...Shit. You knew that I was going to call you, you wouldn't have just forgotten to bring your cell phone, or your fucking wallet. You left it here for a reason."
Percy's fists slowly clenched together as Castellan stalked towards him, until he was only inches from his face. He glanced towards his bedroom, where his gun case was tucked away, but Castellan scoffed,
"Save it," He ordered, "I'm guessing this is what you were looking for?"
Castellan raised a gun, Percy's gun, in the air.
"You're going to tell me what you're hiding right now, or you're not going to be leaving this apartment on your own two feet. You'll leave in a black garbage bag, never to be heard from again."
Percy glared daggers at Castellan, but after a few moments of this, he could tell he wasn't going to let up. He dug into his pocket, brandishing his primary wallet, the one that held his true identity. Castellan swiped it away, before unfolding the wallet,
"So, you're...Perseus Jackson."
Castellan hummed once, nodded, before handing it back to him. He wandered about the apartment, sighing to himself,
"I assumed that, after what happened last night, you would understand that I am not a person to fuck around with."
He turned, glancing over his shoulder at Percy.
"Was I wrong to assume? Are you as fucking stupid as you look?"
Percy, while he had been eager to find every possible chance he could to give Castellan a retort, didn't have a single bit of bravery to do so now. He knew in that moment, he was at the mercy of Castellan, and if he slipped up even a little, it would cost him, and dearly. Percy swallowed, reasoning a diplomatic response,
"No, I understand that you're not a person to fuck around with. I just prefer a little security when it comes to things like this myself. Am I wrong to have wanted that?"
Castellan turned, readjusting his suit and a strand piece of blonde hair that had fallen in front of his face. He mustered a grin, before walking back towards Percy,
"No. Of course not. But I can assure you, Perseus, business matters will never interfere with your personal life."
Percy gripped his fists together, but the lawyer didn't notice this as he put out his hand,
"Well, now that the matter has been dealt with, what do you say? Are you ready to get to work?"
He looked up at Castellan, who, in his loafers, gained a few inches over Percy. He kept his stare fixated onto Percy, as if trying to lull him into submission with the intense gaze. Percy was scared, without a doubt. But what could he do now? Even if he did turn down Castellan's job offer, he would be too paranoid. Paranoid that Castellan would track him down with his true identity.
And even if he did accept the job offer, while it would be less prominent, he would still be paranoid. Paranoid that Castellan would start watching their house, watch his everyday life down to his every single step. Possibly follow his mother, if he became aware of her existence. No matter what, no matter which decision he made, he had no choice. Percy was in it deep.
Balls deep.
After having signed a few more articles of paperwork, and after Percy had made idle, uncomfortable small talk with Castellan, he finally left.
Perhaps after having basking in his pride of terrifying me, Percy thought, He had remembered that it was a Saturday, and that there were better things to do with your time.
A shiver had run down his spine when Castellan left, and his bodyguards, who had been lurking in the apartment the entire time, crept out from his bedroom, and followed behind their employer. Once the door had shut, he had rushed into the room. A few manilla folders were neatly laying on his bed, as well as a yellow envelope.
He scooped up the first one, which had a sticky note attached to it which read:
Here are your first assignments, and, your starting cash. Get it right, and you get paid.
-Castellan
Assignments? Percy was certain he had read over that word at least a dozen times before sighing. Either Castellan was testing to see how tightly he could have the strings attached, or he had too much faith in his capabilities. He perched himself on the edge of the bed, pulling the folders closer to him. Percy flipped through each of them, scanning the information he had been provided.
While he looked through, it didn't take him long to realize that he wasn't really, truly paying attention. It was all just going right through his head. He was too busy thinking about what the hell he had just gotten himself into. The concept of earning more money for what was probably one of the most gruesome jobs, if you could call it that, was certainly desirable. But after meeting his new employer, he had already started to wonder if it was worth leaving the portion of safety he had working for Grover.
Granted, Percy was definitely less concerned when Castellan hadn't become aware of his true identity. He was a lot more willing to stand up for himself against his constant attempts to seem threatening. But now, Castellan had leverage against him, and even if he did say that business matters would stay separate from personal ones, Percy knew he would never let his guard down. If Percy slipped up in one way or another, he knew that there was nothing holding Castellan back whatsoever to do his worst. And doing his worst didn't necessarily mean limiting it to just taking it out on Percy exclusively.
A chill ran down his spine again, shaking the thoughts from his head. He knew that if he did what as he was told, didn't cross Castellan in anyway, he wouldn't have anything to worry about. Still, not worrying was easier said than done. Percy scooped up his phone, texting Grover back and forth. Almost immediately, his friend had asked him how the meeting went.
Eventually, they agreed that the ordeal would be easier explained in person, and that Grover should come by his apartment.
I'll bring beer.
Percy chuckled, before replying: You might want to bring something heavier than that.
Vodka it is, then.
He laughed to himself again, before tucking his phone back into his pocket. As he rifled through the papers again, still with the same feeling of distraction, he finally settled on the fact that he wouldn't be able to effectively read through the files, and that he would keep them to read once the weekend was over. Finally, he looked over to the yellow envelope, and scooped it up. Percy weighed it in his hands, and realized it was quite hefty. He tore the top off of it, and spilled the contents onto the bed.
Percy gasped as a few stacks of hundred dollar bills, rubber-banded together, toppled out. He quickly sorted them together, counting them up to five in number.
"Jesus," Percy muttered, looking at the money in front of him one more time. He picked it up, before rushing to the closet. As he crouched down, he moved a few items aside, before coming across a plain-looking shoebox. He opened it, before tossing in the stacks of money along with the amount he had stored in it already. Percy was quick to do this, wanting to avoid the chance that his friend would come across it.
He had just been putting the top of the shoebox back on when there was a knock at the door. Percy stood, closed the closet door, before padding to the front door. He opened it, and found Grover standing there as he hefted a generic bag of potato chips and bottle of vodka,
"I was told this is where the party is?"
Percy rolled his eyes with a grin, before stepping aside to let his friend through. He closed the door, locking it this time. When he turned around, he already found his friend sprawled out comfortably on the couch, with his feet resting on the coffee table.
"Got any glasses?" He called over.
Percy sauntered over to the kitchen, digging through his near-empty cabinets. They were almost always devoid of anything, since he rarely spent anytime at the apartment. Finally, as he opened the last one, the found a plastic bag filled with a stack of red disposable cups.
"We're in luck," Percy announced, rising up from the counter before tossing them across the room. Grover caught them, before getting to work on pouring them drinks. Percy, before heading back, checked the fridge for food. There was nothing but a half-filled gallon of milk that he was certain was spoiled, and a container with something that looked more like a science fair project than food. He shuddered, quickly closing the refrigerator.
Percy returned to the living room, leaping over the other side of the couch as he sat down beside Grover. The bottle of vodka he had been pouring veered to one side, splashing onto the floor somewhat, as he shot Percy a glare,
"Sorry," Percy muttered, before flipping the television on.
"Sure you are," Grover retorted.
He handed Percy a cup, who took it wordlessly as the searched through the channels. There was nothing more than a few news channels, a documentary that, considering the quality, was probably from the late seventies or eighties, a talk show, and lastly, a golf game. Percy sighed,
"Well, we've got a sob story about a woman's fear of pickles, a documentary about birds, golf, or the news."
Grover flopped back against the couch, sipping on his drink,
"It's your pick."
Percy turned to the news station that was getting the best reception, not wanting to listen to a woman crying on T.V. or something that would bore him to death like golf or a documentary. He swished his clear drink around a few times, and took a swig. Percy winced as he swallowed it, as it sent a severe burning sensation all the way down his through before settling in his stomach.
"God," He said with a grimace.
His friend, on the other hand, had just finished up downing his, and was pouring another drink with a sour expression on his face. Percy frowned as he peered at his friend,
"What's the problem? I told you that you could pick the station."
Grover reclined back again, drinking some more.
"It's not that, man. I've just got some problems going on right now."
Percy leaned forward, tearing open the bag of chips as he grabbed a handful,
"Don't we all?"
Beside him, Grover sighed, "Sorry."
"I was kidding," He replied, glancing over, "What's up, man?"
Grover shook his head, "Ah...Don't worry about it. I came over to talk about what happened with you earlier."
Percy, after a moment, nodded,
"Okay. Well, we'll talk about that, but then you're gonna tell me what's going on with you. Got it?"
"Deal."
Percy told his story. Detailing Castellan's bout of pure anger upon realizing that Percy wasn't who he was. And then about him finding out his true identity, and how that equated out to leverage against him. Then, lastly, how he had three assignments under his belt to take care of.
"Three?" Grover repeated over the opening of his beer bottle, which he had since switched over to instead of straight vodka, "How much is he paying you for that?"
Percy's eyes darted away, as he tried to come up with an answer. His friend rolled his eyes,
"I already told you, Perce," Grover mumbled, "I already know that he's going to pay you better than I can, why else do you think I told you about the bastard. Now spill."
"He gave me five stacks of cash, but I haven't counted it up yet."
Grover nearly choked on his beer,
"God, that much?"
Percy nodded, not bothering to mention the fact that he was also going to be paid more on top of finishing assignments. Despite the fact that Grover knew Castellan paid better, and was insistent that he didn't care at all, Percy still felt a twinge of guilt that lingered.
"Well," Grover continued, "If there's one person who deserves that amount of dough, man, it's you."
Percy cracked a grin,
"Thanks..."
They fell silent for a few minutes, since the story had taken a while, as they watched the television in silence. Percy sighed when it registered in his head that they were still reporting on the prison escape at Riker's. The police had still failed to track down the crime lord. However, they had weeded out a few of his accomplices who assisted in helping him escape. It included a few inmates, and one or two guards who had been swayed one way or another, whether it be with money or favors, to help Kronos in his escape.
But, since he had gotten off of the island, there had been no trace of him whatsoever. For all intents and purposes, he had vanished. Grover flipped through the channels again,
"God, they get one story and that's all they'll roll with for weeks."
Percy grunted once in agreement, reaching into the chip bag. He frowned when he found himself grasping at air, and that there were nothing more than a few crumbs. He tossed the bag over his shoulder, as his friend snorted with laughter beside him,
"Sorry," He apologized, followed by a burp, "We should order some decent chow."
Percy checked the time, followed by a shrug,
"I don't see why-Wait a minute. You're stalling me, aren't you?"
Grover shrugged, "Well, I don't want to talk about it."
"Well, you're the one who brought it up," Percy retorted, "Now spill, Grover.."
"I, um...I haven't talked to my mom in a while. And she normally sends me some dough towards the end of the month for food and stuff. But it, uh...It hasn't come around yet."
Percy frowned, "Well, it's only what? The twenty-ninth? There's still a few more days left in the month to go."
Grover looked over again, "She hasn't sent me anything in two months now. I mean, I've been doing alright, I get by, but I'm...Worried. We normally at least talk on the phone or something."
Percy, while sympathetic towards his friend, was still finding Grover's worry a little ridiculous and overly-dramatic. He had always been a little bit of a mama's boy, and Percy wondered if everything was just snowballing in his head into something bigger than it was in reality. But, he kept all of this in his head, as he asked,
"Why don't you call her yourself?"
Grover shook his head, "They still have land-lines, as well as that old bag of a maid that runs to tell my father to rat me out when I'm calling. Then he demands to talk with me instead."
He remembered his friend quite frequently bringing up his parents, particularly his father when they were growing up. Grover had come from quite a wealthy family, was sent to Yancy on their own dime, and was expected to excel like any kid who came from a family like that. After barely passing his middle school classes, then flunking out of Yancy by the tenth grade, his father, needless to say, had grown tired of his son's less-than-worthy grades. That, coupled with constantly getting into trouble with Percy, had caused a friction-filled relationship. Luckily, Percy was able to stay out of it just enough to adequately concentrate on his schoolwork to graduate.
Percy, after a while, shook his head,
"I don't know what to tell you, man."
Grover waved him away, "Ah, don't worry about it. Now, I'm starving. You got any take-out menus laying around?"
"Check the drawers."
His friend disappeared to search. After a few moments, he let out an odd noise that Percy assumed meant that he had come across the menus.
"Got any preferences?" Grover asked.
"Nah," Percy answered, "Pick what you want."
Grover fell quiet again, as the sound of papers rustled through the air. Percy, after having thought back on their time at Yancy, felt a little bit sad suddenly. He always felt at least somewhat sad when he thought back on the school. It had been rough there at first, kids picked on him for being a poor kid there on a scholarship. But he could never figure out how they figured that part about him, it's not as if he carried a massive poster taped to his ass saying: Kick me, I'm living in poverty!
Once Grover came around to the school, and they became unlikely friends, they let up, if only by a miniscule amount. The two had warmed up after Percy had let Grover copy his homework everyday for a number of weeks, and his friend would say every time:
I owe you one, man. I mean it.
And he returned the favor by backing Percy one day while he was being taunted by some other kids in the school yard.
Hey, lay off him! Grover had said, At least he had to work into coming here, unlike us lazy-ass trust fund kids.
That wasn't exactly an effective comment, but still, it was enough to keep them off of Percy's back for the rest of the day. And, following that, they two became good friends, even if they did goad each other into questionable amounts of trouble. Percy couldn't help but grin at the memory. Despite the constant bullying, he still very dearly missed going to Yancy at times. Everything had been so much simpler...
"Hey!" Grover called, "This is Houston to Percy, do you read me? How does pizza sound?"
"Fine by me."
"Roger that," Grover replied, stretching out the 'R' in Roger before dialing the number to the restaurant.
A/N: I really enjoyed writing this chapter, due to the fact that most of it composed of Grover and Percy just hanging out together. Sometimes just writing conversations between two friends can mean so much more. Anyways, I'll see you guys next week.
Adios,
Leaded-Pegasus
