Spicy Sugar

The Business with Bravado

Andrei's POV:

I was just crossing the bridge out of the central district of Vice City in the crappy old Hyundai when the fire department rushed past me. In my rear mirror, I could see the blue lights of the police and fire department dancing on the walls of the skyscrapers. Turning down the radio to listen to the sirens bouncing around the narrow streets, forming the symphony of my work, I kept driving so casually. Hiding in plain sight normally worked best, after all.

This was what I trained my body and mind for. The only thing I was good at. Doing the dirty work for others was what got me my cash, and I was one of the best at it. Everyone had some stains on his shirt. Not only the underbelly of society. Also, businessmen and politics. Actually, mainly those did, and I was good at resolving such problems. They hated me, of course. Everyone did. They hated and feared me for my work. Despised me for my methods, but I couldn't care less. It's all just business anyway.

Shaking my head to clear my mind more, I drove off from the main street into a dimly lit but rather broad alleyway and scoffed, "Home sweet home."

'Durnam' Street. Downtown. People in this city just called it 'Depravity Alley' though. A much more fitting name, anyway. Here you found an abundance of what everyone considered garbage. As I drove past people, I eyed everyone carefully.

The hookers, waiting for their next client, tossing me the most seductive smiles they could. Dressed in short skirts and provocative tops. All of them trying to look like the most charming woman you could imagine. The rips in their thighs and the stains on their skirts telling me just perfectly how successful they already were to find some horny and desperate bastard that would join them.

Some bikers drinking beer outside the 'Boiler Room', the local bar. Most of them were burly men with black bikes, tattoos and shaved heads. All of them were wearing a moustache. The one girl in between them always had me surprised. Sitting on her bright pink bike and laughing and joking with the men.

The bouncer of 'Domingos' tossing some poor fuck out of the establishment and nearly in front of the car, so I had to actually dodge him. Every window had a pole inside it where the dancers did their best to attract the customers in to have a good time and maybe get lucky for the right amount of money.

Turning a corner into a smaller side alley, I could see my goal. On top of a dumpster sat two black guys with Rasta locks and black sunglasses. The way they wore their guns at their hips and played with their knives might have threatened a weaker man, but not me. Parking the car I stepped out grabbing my backpack from the passenger seat and closing the door I flashed them a grin of my metallic teeth.

"Right on time, man." The one sitting closest to me spoke and jumped down.

He had his hair open, so the Rastas fell into his face. His baggy jeans were nearly slipping off already, so he had to pull them up. Or at least far enough to still have the seat at his knees. His upper body was covered by just a loose tank top that showed off his tattoos well.

"I'm a man of my word, am I not?" I exclaimed with a wide smile and a very cheerful tone of voice.

I knew exactly how to act around people. Not only that, but I was always on edge. Always watching for even the slightest movement of muscles to react accordingly.

"The Car is all intact. Checked your supply briefly and made sure it was still in." I told them both as if I was just reading my shopping list aloud.

"Damn, man, you are good. Isn't he good, Sledge? We got ya, cash man, I will just check for myself before." his question directed at his buddy before slipping past me to walk up to check the car.

"You don't trust me, Ray? I'm hurt." I remarked, not turning around since I knew Sledge to be the more dangerous man.

"Trust is not earned easily around these parts." Sledge stated in a low voice that was supposed to sound threatening, "We are just making sure you're not here to screw us over or-"

"Screwing you over? Please. If I wanted to screw you over, we wouldn't be having this conversation. I would have gotten out of the car, just shot the both of you before you got off of the bloody dumpster and took your cash and your drugs." I explained as if I was completely sure that would have worked effortlessly.

Furthermore, I continued, "Quite frankly, though, I couldn't be bothered to go out and do some low cash drug deals myself. In fact, I even got you a bonus."

Slipping off the backpack, holding it out with a grin towards Sledge.

The muscular man hopped off the dumpster, eyeing me up before he walked over and took the backpack from me, "Where did you get the stuff?"

"Police station. Liberated it from their storage and, since I am a nice guy and your bestie, you get the first shot at buying it off me." I offered with a self-confident grin.

"Let me check first." Sledge answered him with narrowed eyes.

"Car is all good, man. We're ready to roll again and sling that shit to the masses." Ray said from behind me and pointed at the car.

"Hmm. Alright, freak. We're paying you our standard rate for the drugs and the cash we promised for the car." Sledge said and went to grab the other backpack they had with the cash.

My eyes narrowed a bit. Did he just call me a freak?

"Fine with me." was all I said and shrugged. No need to turn this small deal into a bloodbath.

The exchange was made, and I turned to leave the alley when suddenly I heard a noise behind me. Just in time, I turned around to see Sledge reach for his gun. With lightning-like reflexes, I pulled the dead cop's gun and hit Sledge in the knee with one gunshot, making him crumple to the floor.

Walking over, I kicked the man's gun away and pointed my own at Ray, "Don't you even think about it, Snoop Dog."

Ray just raised his hands and took one step back.

"So after I just helped you solve your little problem, you decide to fuck me over? That's not a good decision in this kind of business." I spoke down to the man on the floor.

Putting one foot down onto Sledge's knee I pressed down making him scream in pain and agony, "Calling me a freak was your first strike buddy. Trying to pull a gun on me was the second."

I slowly lowered myself down, putting more and more pressure on the broken kneecap, "Do not give me a reason to get you out of this game, you hear me?"

The man underneath him just squirmed in pain and nodded, trying helplessly to suppress his screams.

I gave him a playful smack on the cheek, "Good boy." Then I turned to leave the alley, hearing only curses behind me as Ray picked up his wounded partner and dragged him to the car.