White Outside, Red Underneath [Vegaspete]

Chapter 7: Jingle

 "What was the urgent matter that made you come here so early?" Khun Gun took a seat in the conference room, a bored expression taking over his features.

 He sat at the head of the table, in front of him was a pale-looking Somsak with dark circles under his eyes. He looked like he hadn't slept at night, but he still sat with pride. Straight back, gaze steady.

 He was too exhausted to talk nonsense, hence he got to the point; "My son ran away." Pete's father sighed before he looked up at Gun. "I've been looking for that son of a bitch all night."

 He was lucky, to put it mildly. If he weren't Gun's friend he'd probably had a bullet in his head by now. But they share a twisted form of comprehension. Disobeying sons, and cruel way of doing business. They were similar.

 "The wedding is tomorrow" Vegas' father reminded him, in a manner that didn't sound the least bit accusatory. They both took a cigarette out and squeezed it between their teeth.

 "I'm aware." Somsak knocked the cigarette against the wall of the ashtray that lay in front of him. "Unfortunately Pete seems to know my resources, but I bet he is unfamiliar with yours."

 "Are you asking for my help?" Khun Gun inquired.

 "This wedding is important to both of us. I wouldn't have come here if I didn't think you were interested."

 The Mafia never solicits aid. They simply state the facts, the benefits and the other can decide for themselves. They argue like lawyers but more briefly. And when someone does ask for help they laugh at them. It's pathetic. Never one mafia clan has accepted begging. Not in business.

"What would happen if we found him instead of your men?" Vegas' father gave voice to the vicious question. What would happen if the minor family reached the runaway faster than the Saengthams?

 Nothing good - that's for sure.

 "You can do anything for all I care" The cigarette from Somsak's mouth was put out, and laid in the ashtray. "Just make sure he can cover it. We don't want people asking questions on the wedding day, do we?"

 Cold-blooded laughs echoed between the conference room's walls, mixing together into an inhuman sound. In reality, they did not care. No one would dare to ask anything. Even if they did notice - they were confident the questions wouldn't be directed at them.

 And how right they were.

-

 The sound of harsh footsteps was heard in Vegas' office. He could recognize those shoes even in his sleep. The noise of approaching danger. Also known as Gun Theerapanyakul.

 Vegas' father stormed into the room, the invisible fumes of rage coming right after him. He positioned himself in a threatening way, his fists were clenched next to his thighs, and his breathing was uneven. He was extremely furious, which meant he was extremely dangerous as well.

 Vegas was alert, but still, his childish belief that Pa wouldn't hurt him without a reason still won. His slap didn't hurt as much as the disappointment in his eyes. Or the words that left his mouth right after.

 "You stupid, incompetent boy! Couldn't even make him stay, ha?"

 Confusion washed over Vegas like a cold wave. Who is Gun talking about? Who should've stayed because of Vegas? No one ever did. It didn't make sense - His father always threw at him how his mother didn't choose him, that a client or two was disappointed in him so they didn't sign the contract. Khun Gun knew best that people never stayed because of Vegas.

 "What are you talking about, Papa?" Unlike the mafia boss, Vegas sounded much less stern and more like a scared puppy in the corner.

 "Your dear bride ran away," Gun spot before the accusation "and I'd be willing to wager that it's your fault!"