Chuck arose in the early hours of the morning, the sun had yet to show itself, and Leila lay naked under the blankets; he always woke early, it was important if one wanted to get more out of the day, other gangsters slept in missing most of the morning. When he first started selling narcotics he did it strictly before the sun came up, there was far less attention at such hours of the day, and now he did not have to sell anything himself; people did that for him, people like Damien, who now thought without Philip around, Chuck did not need to be satisfied.
The boss made his way over to a large double mirror on the wall and flicked a switch on the side, the mirror slowly departed into a walk-in wardrobe full of different outfits, the pants were all neatly matched with the shirts; thanks to Leila. She stirred a little as he flicked through the coat hangers before deciding on jeans and a long sleeved shirt. He pulled down a shoe box, which was a little heavier than is should have been, and took out a pair of brown leather shoes to match his belt. Once he slipped the shoes on, Chuck pulled out the gun that was still in the box.
“Now that Philip is gone? Who the fuck does he think was controlling Philip?” Chuck asked Tony, as the pair rode the lift down to the basement.
“Want me to do this?” Tony asked, nodding at Chuck’s gun that was visible under his leisure jacket.
Chuck moved covered the piece up with the jacket and shook his head, “No, everyone needs to see what happens by my hand when someone fucks up.”
Tony accepted his boss’s decision, as always, he would follow Chuck into hell if he had to. Chuck climbed into the passenger side of his red sports car; the engine roared to life and they took off out of the building.
Tony pulled up outside Damien’s house; it was a modest one-story brick home. The gardens were being overrun with weeds and there was rubbish strewn all over the grass. “Take a look at this shit,” Chuck said, as he opened the creaky gate and scanned the front.
Tony shook his head, “A lieutenant, living like a bum."
“Too busy getting high of his own supply,” Chuck sighed.
The two men walked through not bothering to close the gate. Chuck knocked loudly half a dozen times on the front door.
“Who is it?” A voice called from inside.
“Chuck,” The boss responded impatiently, as he heard someone fumbling about keys and unlocking multiple locks on the other side. The door opened revealing Damien’s right hand man Pudgy a chubby man in his thirties sporting the full tracksuit and gold chains; he looked better dressed for Albert’s family.
“How you doing Chuck?” Pudgy said, as he looked cautiously to the boss and then Tony.
“I’m always good, only I can make it good. So can I come in or not?” Chuck asked, motioning toward himself and Tony.
“O-o-f course,” Pudgy said, nervously.
“Thank you Pudgy, I was really beginning to think you were not going to let us in,” Chuck said, smiling.
“Never,” Pudgy gulped, “I mean I would never not let you in boss.”
Chuck looked at Tony, “Hear that boss?”
Tony’s face remained was emotionless; he was always serious when he was playing bodyguard to Chuck, and along with his solid build it made him very intimidating. He was definitely not of Philips stature, but he had his own style.