I apologize for taking nearly a month to update. I've been going through severe depression and haven't been productive as I'd like to be. Enjoy guys.
3
The Weeknd's Earned It blasted loudly over the PA system, with the LED and strobe lights flashing frantically. Will lit a cigarette as his bloodshot eyes locked onto the beautiful young woman in front of him, her hips swaying methodically to the beat, her large brazenly exposed breasts jiggling like a bunch of dribbling basketballs. She smiled as Will put a twenty dollar bill in the front of her G-String.
Goddamn! Thought Will, as the stripper, Godiva, bent over in front of a chair, her firm round buttocks slow wining. He wanted to smack it so badly, but there was a no touch rule in effect. What a pity, he wanted to run his large hands all up and down that smooth umber skin.
After the song ended, Will slipped Godiva another twenty dollar and went to the bar, where he ordered shots of Jack Daniels. As he sank shot after shot, he thought of that gold and diamonds. Was it possible the police recovered it? If so, he was screwed and would have to think of another way to get some serious cash. If that was one thing he knew how to do, it was to make money. But until then, he was going to find solace in the imminent inebriation overcoming him as he went back over to the stage.
The Buick parked in the parking lot of an all black building with the sign reading 35 Gentleman's Club named so because it was located on Route 35 in Sayreville. The number 35 was written in slanted red Roman numerals. Jonny turned off his car, a manic grin on his face.
"Jonny, you really should re-consider this, man," said Rome. "The place is crawling with bouncers, and the minute you step in there, they're going to pat you down for weapons. For once in your life, think this through.
Jonny turned lazily to Rome, still grinning.
"Hey, He Who Lacks Faith," he said. "Do you have a better plan?"
Rome said nothing, but scowled. There was no reasoning with a guy like Jonny.
"Thought so," said Jonny. "Now stop whining and let's go get that dinero."
The two got out the Buick, Jonny going into his trunk. He got out a crowbar and flathead screwdriver before heading with Rome around the back to the sidedoor. He used the screwdriver first to jimmy the lock. It cracked open with ease. Exotic dancers, who were getting ready to go on stage screamed at the sight of the two men.
"Shut up!" hissed Jonny, pulling out the revolver and aiming it at the women, "all of you head over there and don't move! Now, not tomorrow!
As the girls ran past Jonny, he added, "Damn, you chicks are dimes. No bullet wounds or C-section scars or nothing."
The door burst open. Two burly bouncers, having heard the commotion in the room, saw Jonny and Rome and went for them immediately. With only a milisecond to act, Jonny took the crowbar and put all his force the blow, striking the bald bouncer in the face repeatedly. Rome wrestled for a few minutes with the black bouncer before incapacitating him with lethal elbows and fists. Thinking quickly, Jonny grabbed a pair of handcuffs and cuffed the two bouncers before turning to the women.
"Who's the guy in charge of this place?" he asked.
"Manolo Vasquez," said a curvy dancer with teal streaked hair. "He calls himself Sweet Papi though."
"Sweet Papi?" repeated Jonny, "That name just reeks of douchebag. Where's his office?"
"Just walk straight up the corridor and make a right," said a thick blonde dancer.
"Let's go get that money, brotha," said Jonny to Rome, leaving the room.
There was a bouncer standing in front of the door of Sweet Papi's office. He was smaller than Jonny and Rome in height, but along with his powerful frame and stance, this guy was tough. This, however, did not deter Jonny. He walked calmly up to the bouncer with Rome holding up the rear.
"Excuse me, my man," said Jonny quietly. "Is Sweet Papi available to talk?"
The bouncer observed Jonny with sneering insolence before he spoke.
"He's handling some business," he said in a deep, curt voice. "Take a walk, white boy. You and pretty boy over there."
Jonny grinned impishly
"I don't think you understand," said Jonny, "You see, we-"
In mid sentence, Jonny headbutted the bouncer in the face. The bouncer roared in pain, holding his nose, but still grabbed Jonny by the throat, causing him to drop the crowbar in surprise. Rome blindsided the bouncer by football tackling him to the floor. The two men tussled on the floor, exchanging fists. Finally, Jonny regained possession of the crowbar and smacked the bouncer in the head, knocking him unconscious. Wiping blood from his lip, Rome scrambled to his feet.
"Stand back," said Rome, "Forget knocking, we kicking this shit down."
At once, Rome kicked down the door and went in. A startled cry issued from the contents of the room. Jonny pulled out his revolver as Rome grabbed a chunky Latino guy dressed in a pleathered red snakeskin suit.
"Who do you two think you are, barging in my goddamn office like this, huh?" snarled Sweet Papi, "Do you know who the fuck I am cabrón?"
"Miss us with that Big Willy act, brah," said Rome, slamming Sweet Papi against the adjacent wall. "We came here for one thing."
"That's right you fancy Fruit Roll Up," said Jonny, pressing the revolver against Sweet Papi's pudgy face. "And the longer you live all depends on your cooperation."
"Yeah," said Rome, leaning so close to Sweet Papi, he can smell his rancid breath. "We know you got some cash stashed somewhere. Tell us where it is or my homeboy here will paint the walls with your brains."
"Chinga tu madre, mamabicho," spat Sweet Papi, sweat forming on his forehead "I'm not telling you dick,"
"Fine," said Rome, "Blast him, Jonny,"
As Jonny pulled back on the hammer and stuck the gun to his head, Sweet Papi caved in and said, "Alright! Alright! The cash is in a safe behind the La Carta painting on the wall over there."
Jonny walked over to the wall where the painting hung. There, he lifted it up, revealing a safe embedded within the wall with a digital pin, instead of the combination.
"What's the PIN code?" he asked.
"Four, eight, eight, zero," croaked Sweet Papi as Rome's hands tightened around his throat.
Jonny dialed the code in. The safe opened instantly. Inside were stacks of money and a few expensive pieces of jewelry. Jonny took everything, including the jewelry.
"Is that the only money you have?" asked Jonny.
"Yeah, that's all of it right there," said Sweet Papi
"Don't bullshit us," warned Rome.
"Fuck, I told you that's all of it right there," said Sweet Papi.
Rome searched through Sweet Papi's pockets. There was nothing in them.
"Lucky," he muttered. He floored Sweet Papi with a stiff jab to the jaw, knocking him unconscious. Jonny helped Rome drag Sweet Papi out of sight, tying him to the bouncer with ropes and handcuffs.
"Thanks for donating to our cause," said Jonny, as he and Rome turned a corner around the corridor.
"That was easier than I thought it would be," said Rome.
"Yeah, well, now we enter a suicide mission." said Jonny. "We're going to rob the bar now."
Rome let out an annoyed sigh.
"Do you have to do everything to the extreme?" he asked. "Let's just bail, we have like 50 Gs here."
"A little more won't hurt, will it?" said Jonny. "You know how much bartenders make on a night like this, including tips? And those assholes out there throwing out that money? We took out 3 bouncers, there should be only a few left, and they're probably at the door. Just let me handle everything and you have my back, man."
"Do I have a choice?" asked Rome.
"Nope." said Jonny, "now quit your bitchin' and let's go."
Damn, she's fine thought Will, looking at a svelte Latina woman, giving some old crusty gator suit wearing guy a lap dance. He was feeling buzzed at the moment, and it was getting late. But he had nowhere to go. His wife, Jenny, had divorced him shortly after the sentencing 15 years ago. He didn't blame her, with him always getting locked up all the time, but still, it was a little disconcerting that he wouldn't have a bed to sleep in. He quickly put the tought in the back of his mind. He was here to have a good time, not to mope.
He turned around in his stool and downed a few more shots of whiskey. Two men in their late 20s or early 30s approached the bar. Will observed them. He didn't know why, but he could always sniff out a crook when he saw one. Maybe it had something to do with him being a crook. The taller of the two was skimming the crowd, probably looking for a bouncer. The smaller one was waiting for the bartender to cater to him.
"What will you have?" asked the bartender finally.
"I'll have a Bahama Mama," said the small one, "And Cash Out the Register."
"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that last bit?" said the bartender
"Perhaps this will make your hearing better," said the small one, pulling out the revolver, and aiming it at the bartender, who's eyes widened in fright, "take the mother fuckin' money out the cash register before you get a bullet, asshole!"
Everyone at the bar, except Will ran, shouting, "Oh my God, he's got a gun, he's got a gun!"
Pretty soon, screams rang through the strip joint. Everyone, including the strippers, were making a bee line for the door. Two bouncers were inching toward the bar, but were met by the large group, who ran toward them full bore and clotheslined both of them, sending them to the floor. Will watched in amusement as one of the bouncers fell through a glass table. Meanwhile, the smaller crook had jumped over the bar and was screaming at the bartender to hurry up. The bartender was opening the cash register with shaky hands.
Finally, the bartender had it open and gave the small crook the money. He then handed over all of the tips he had made that night as well. The smaller crook jumped back over the counter and proceeded to leave with the large crook when he noticed that Will was still at the bar.
"Hey, Pops, how come you ain't run out?" he asked. "Your hip went out?"
Will laughed derisively.
"You think knocks on my age bother me, boy?" he said. "I just did 15 years in the pen, and I've dropped punks younger and much tougher than you two pussies. I'd have your scrawny ass washing my drawers the first week. And you-" he added to the larger crook, sizing him up. "-With that long pretty hair, I'd turn you out in less than a week and then sell you for a carton of cigarettes, bitch."
"You know what, Jonny?" said the larger crook, boring into Will's eyes menancingly, "I think we ought to bust his ass right now."
"Yeah, Rome," said, Jonny, setting down the revolver, "I don't need a gun for this."
Will, acted instinctively, reaching over the counter and grabbing a large bottle of gin. He bought it down on the crook named Jonny's head, busting him open. Rome attempted to throw a punch, but Will blocked it and belted him with a wild right hook. He kneed him hard in the gut, causing Rome to double over in pain. That's when he gave him a stiff knee to the face, busting up his lip.
Jonny had gotten back to his feet and was reaching for the revolver. Will slammed his bloody head against the counter and twisted his arm upward. Rome started toward Will, but Will shouted, "Unless you want me to break his arm, you'd better back off!"
Rome froze in his tracks, a look of the deepest loathing etched in his normally stoic features.
"Now," he said, turning back to Jonny, who was letting out gasps and a string of slurred curses, "you could have just took the money and went on your way, but you had to go fucking with me. I'm telling you, you don't want me as an enemy. I could be a great asset to you both. Normally, you both would be as dead as fried chicken, but I ain't going to do that. I wanna offer my services to your dumbasses. I'll have you sitting on piles of cash if you roll with me."
"Why should we believe you?" asked Rome. His lip was swelling rapidly
"Because robbery is my expertise amongst other things," said Will, "Before I got locked up, I pulled off some nice scores and brought in six figures. Let me help you guys."
"Let him go then," said Rome.
Will, released Jonny immediately. Jonny backed away from Will, holding his arm. Blood dripped from his head and onto his hooded sweatshirt. It seemed he was barely conscious.
"Listen, we have to get out of here," said Will, grabbing a bottle of liquor. "I can close his wound and get him cleaned up. I was only defending myself, you know?"
Rome merely scowled.
"Help me with him to the car then," he said finally.
Will grabbed the revolver before lifting Jonny by his arm pit, taking him to the Buick.
"We got a hideout where we can take him." said Rome to Will. "You try to staunch the bleeding, and I'll take the wheel."
Will nodded as he and Rome put Jonny in the back seat. Then Will climbed in the back seat.
Should we trust this guy? thought Rome as he turned over the Buick's engine. We don't even know him, why's he offering his service? But then again, if he says he can get a whole of some real cash, then I have no choice but to trust him.
He pulled off in the Buick quickly. In the distance, he could hear the sound of police sirens.