Guns, Sex, Lies & Money

Ch 1

James had five minutes to kill before Mitch Windham would breeze down the sidewalk to the subway station, without a care in the world, as though he didn't owe Martin Shaw of all people two-hundred grand. He rubbed the face of his watch clean on his shirt, leaned back against the smudged, glass storefront window and lit a cigarette. The clerk on the other side of the glass didn't bother hiding his look of disgust, but James knew it would go no farther. That guy wouldn't confront James for a thousand dollars, and neither would the store manager. Most people wouldn't, even if they had magic. He made eye contact with the slender, limp haired kid and shrugged his massive shoulders as he blew smoke through his nose. Tough break, buddy. If I take crap from you, I have to take it from every werewolf, amulet-slinger and would-be enchanter in the city, too.

He was more than happy to let his image do the talking. Fighting with civilians tended to cause too much unwanted attention. People in James' line of work usually kept their mouths shut, even if they took a beating. It was far better for the big biker to make the thought of said asskicking as unpalatable as possible. Besides, there was a moral lesson he could take home to Jesse about what was about to go down with Windham; don't gamble with other people's money, or quit while you're ahead, perhaps. Throwing down on wage-workers like the clerk? No moral lesson at all; not a good one, anyway. Especially since the guy was minding his own business, for the most part. Plus, James was actually in a pretty decent mood, all things considered.

It didn't hurt that breaking Windham's kneecaps would require about as much focus as, say, pitching a no-hitter against eight year-old Jesse's baseball rivals, either. He had other shit to think about besides extra fighting. Like grilling the pork loin he had soaking in the fridge, and how he was going to get through a week-long visit from Katie's sister without drinking himself into oblivion every night. With Jesse away at camp for a month, he didn't even have the distraction of taking the boy fishing or hiking from sunup to sundown. Katie was a confrontation he couldn't avoid at all.

The city's annual motorcycle rally was in full swing. The streets had been barricaded for several blocks in each direction, giving free reign to the dozens of vendors hawking food, clothing, music, motorcycle accessories and other such things; even a biker church or two. People came from all over the state to attend. Right now, James felt as comfortable as a warlock on Halloween. In just a short while, those who came to ride would gather at the eastern-most barricade to start their cross-county ride. In the brief chaos that would inevitably reign, he could handle his business, melt into the crowd of iron horse-fiends and get on with the rest of the day.

James pitched his cigarette into the street, where it was immediately crushed beneath a taxi cab's tires. A young mother walked by, pushing a stroller in and out of an obstacle course of window-shoppers. The breeze picked up a bit, ruffling her light yellow skirt and giving James a good look at the backs of her thighs. An older gentleman passed, in the opposite direction. The gray-hair caught James' eye, tracked his line of sight to the lady of the swishing skirt and offered his own rendition of the biker's lewd grin before crossing the street and vanishing into an alley. James shook his head. The commonality of man wasn't completely lost, not even on as unsentimental a man as he.

A sound of a large, silver motorcycle thundering to a slow, growling halt beside James's own big, black hog broke him free of his thoughts. The new arrival grinned as he climbed off and walked over to James. Earl Myer had the looks of a Viking warrior in a Hollywood film and would look just as at ease on the red carpet, promoting one. He'd opted instead for a life on the wild side, but James had observed his friend charming women as easily and often as any celebrity, and without a fat bank account or lust amulet, too.

"How are we looking?" James asked. Earl had been scoping out Windham for the past couple days. His good buddy was meticulous when it came to shit like this, which was why when Martin offered the Ghost Wolves these jobs, he insisted Smoke put James and Earl together on them. James didn't like sitting around, waiting to get to the good part. He made up for it by being more efficient and uncaring than anyone when the waiting was done and it was time for the dirty work. Jobs like this-staking out a victim on a crowded city block, hoping for just the right time to strike-wouldn't even be in James' wheelhouse were it not for Earl. Earl's attention to detail helped minimize James's waiting, and that was almost as important a component of their life-long friendship as anything else.