The day started out as planned. I got up at six AM and began my usual half hour sprinting session down the beach before taking a cool down five minute swim in the ocean. My kids and I headed towards Andre's house, where he and Kyle were already waiting for us and together we made our way towards the boat we got together as a measure of transportation. Five minutes later, we arrived at the small docks of the town. Andre gave twenty bucks to one of the dock workers to watch our boat and we took the kids to school. Once we dropped them there, we made our way to search for a nice location.
Beck and Andre were walking through the town, looking around in hope of finding something. A "For Sale" sign, a place that looked okay enough to be available but still bad enough to need investment, anything.
"You know what worries me?" Andre asked.
"What?"
"We invest in one, patch the place up and everything, we still need to find a way to get people in there. Something special that isn't available in any other place close." Andre said.
"You are right. And I've been thinking about it. I thought about…doing some events." Beck said.
"Events?"
"Yeah, like every few days something special. Dancers, certain drinks at half prices for one night and so on." Beck explained.
"You don't think anyone else is doing it?" Andre asked.
"I'm sure nobody is. Look at those places. Overprice shit to make up for the crack heads that walk in and don't even order anything, but need a place to hang out in until the morning. I thought we make our place for the right people. We offer quality booze, nice asses shaking on poles and maybe something to eat too for our guests. Drinking makes you hungry." Beck explained.
"You are right. Maybe throw in some live music from time to time."
"Sure. That too."
"Hey, how about that rat hole over there?" Andre asked, pointing at a building.
"Oh, this is perfect." Beck said as he patted Andre on the back.
It was a great place in every way. Three floors, a bar and dance floor on the first two floors. The third one was completely cleared. The second floor had a separated place, probably a VIP place I had ideas for. It was a perfect place. But of course, not me, not Andre, none of us or our family could have anything nice without some fucking issues and problems swinging along the way for us.
"I…have some problems…with one of the guys…" The owner, Carlo, said.
"What problems?" Andre asked, Beck him and Carlo sitting at the bar.
"I borrowed some money from this guy, Richie Purtaro. He is one of those… big shots in town, if you understand." Carlo said.
"A mob guy?" Beck asked.
"Well, sort off. He has some money and acts as a big shot. Hires some street thugs to make trouble as soon as somebody doesn't pay back. I'm scared that he won't try something stupid." Carlo explained.
"How much do you own him?" Andre asked.
"Forty thousand." Carlo answered honestly.
"Well, Carlo, then it's your lucky day. I'm willing to pay off your debt with Richie, but in return, I want eighty percent ownership of this place." Beck said.
"E-e-eighty p-percent?" Carlo stuttered.
"You get to run this place in terms of keeping an eye on everything for us, but Beck and I will take care of finances and other issues you seemed to be overwhelmed with. We have some plans for this place, use the third floor for something special, new furniture and a few other things, while you kick back and enjoy a nice payday." Andre said.
"Also, you know the people here and what they want. Me friend and I are willing to put some money in this place so it makes us even more money. And I'm sure you know how to do it. So you let us know what he have to do, and watch us do it." Beck said.
"Alright. I'm sure you can turn this shit hole around." Carlo said as he offered his hand. They shook hands with him, the business sealed.
"Now, where the fuck is that Richie guy?" Beck asked.
As soon as we found out, we were on our way there with the money. Carlo was right. Richie Purtaro was not a wiseguy. He was too dumb to be one anyway. He was nothing but some rich prick who got all his money left to him by his parents after their passing and now decided to act as a big shot.
"Richie, listen…" Beck began.
"It's Mister Purtaro to you." Richie said, cutting him off.
"Alright, Mister Purtaro. I'm here to take care of that Carlo deal you have. I'll pay off his debt."
"Oh really? Well, it's not that easy." Richie said.
"Why not?" Andre asked. Glancing behind him for a moment. Two guys were standing behind them by the door, probably his muscle.
"Well, Carlo and I have a history. And I didn't like when he stole one of my ladies." Richie said.
"That's between the two of you. I'm here to talk business. I have forty grand here for you. Cash. Take it, and take the pressure off of his club. We are taking it over." Beck said.
"Oh no, you are not. That club is his baby, and nothing hurts that cocksucker more than watch it rot away. It's not about the money for me. I want to see him suffer before I have someone collect his head." Richie said with a smirk as he leaned back in his chair.
"Let me tell you something, Richie. I don't give a flying fuck about the history you and Carlo have, I don't give a fuck about your personal vendetta, and I don't give a single piece of fuck about what you want. Take the money, and fuck off, before I get impatient." Beck said, staring right at Richie who went from feeling high and powerful to nervous. There was something about Beck, about the way he talked, that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
"You got some balls to come to my place and talk to me like that. Do you know who I am?" I am…" Richie began, but Beck decided to pay him back for his previous interrupt.
"You are nothing but a rich nobody who had his money stuffed up his ass by his parents and now acts as if he is somebody. You are nothing, Richie. You are nothing but a waste of air. And you are making me waste even more by having to sit here as long as I did. You've accomplished nothing in life, and now you want to take it out at Carlo? Maybe that's why the girls leave you, Richie. Because you can't even get one up before someone massages your ego. And I'm sure that even when you get it up, it's just like you. A small, disappointing, useless piece of waste." Beck said.
"You dumb son of a… get them out of here!" Richie yelled,but Andre was ready.
As one of the two men wanted to grab Andre, Andre grabbed his arm, twisted it behind the guys back and drove him head first into the wall, making him crash right down. The other guy pulled a knife and tried to stab Andre, but he dodged the attack, grabbed the guys hands before he kneeled him in the crotch twice, making him drop his knife and then punched him in the head, knocking the guy out cold. As the other guy wanted to get up, Andre kicked him in the head, knocking him out.
Richie watched in horror as his two guards were knocked down in a couple of seconds. He reached for his gun, but as he pointed it towards the enforcer, Beck was already there. He took the gun out of Richies shaking hand before slapping him so hard that he busted his lip and made him spit blood. Richie raised his hand towards his busted lip, watching at the blood left on his hand in disbelief. But before he could say anything, Beck gripped him by the throat.
"Listen to me. What you just tried to do will cost you. You will forget Carlo's debt and you will leave him, the club and us alone before Andre and I come back here and make you taste your own balls!" Beck said, keeping a firm grip around Richies throat who struggled for air. "You got that?" Beck asked. Richie quickly nodded as fast as possible.
"Look at this, Beck. He pissed himself. What a bitch." Andre said as he took their money from the table. Beck let go off him, laughing at the view in front of him as he put the gun he took from Richie in his pocket.
"Believe me, you are not a wiseguy. And you haven't seen what a wiseguy really can do. This, this is nothing compared to what I used to pull. Believe me that." Beck said as he turned around and walked towards the door that Andre opened.
"Well, looks like we'll get the club for free." Andre said with a smirk.
"He was asking for it. Had he taken the money, things would have been fine." Beck said.
"True. But now we won't have to invest any more. We can take this and use it to repair the place. That's something." Andre said as he tapped on the suitcase.
"Excuse me?" They heard someone behind them say. They turned around to see a young man, maybe eighteen years old, standing behind them. He was wearing shorts and a short sleeved shirt, and had something familiar about him both Andre and Beck saw, but couldn't put their finger on exactly what.
"Yeah?" Andre asked.
"Are you two maybe… Beck Oliver and Andre Harris?" The kid asked. Beck's and Andre's eyes grew wide at that question. Andre was ready to fight while Beck grabbed for the gun.
"Who the fuck are you and how do you know who we are?" Beck asked, knowing that there was no point in trying to lie. They better find out themselves who the guy is. The young man raised his arms in defense.
"Don't shoot. I… My name is Victor. And… I've been looking for you guys." Victor said.
"Why? What do you want?" Andre asked.
"I need your help. You knew my father. You were very close." Victor said.
"What?" Both said, looking at him before realizing what he meant, and why he seemed so familiar.
"Word on the street says that my father had gone around a lot with women back home in LA, and one of those times, he wasn't careful." Victor explained.
"So you are..:" Andre began.
"Yes. I'm Robert Shapiro's son. And I need your help."