“It’s been a long time, KING,” he said, his eyes glimmered with amusement. I pushed Doe’s legs back together.

The way Isaac said my name sent chills up my spine. Doe went along with what I was doing. She trusted me and thank god for that, but the way her body tensed, I knew she was horrified over what I’d just done.

So was I.

“It has. I hear you recently lost your nephew in a tragic construction accident. My condolences,” I offered.

Isaac smirked. “It was tragic, Mr. King, but it was no fucking accident. Wolfert was stealing from me. Simple as that. So, I had his throat slit and buried under three feet of concrete. The only real tragedy of it was that I was stupid enough to give him a chance at all, and that his mother calls me weeping three fucking times a day.” Isaac lit a cigarette and scratched his head. “I’ve learned my lesson, Mr. King, and I won’t be that stupid again. The number one rule in this business is to make sure that the people who fuck you over get fucked right back, or get dead real quick.”

Doe stiffened.

Isaac waved to the blondes who brought over a bottle of expensive whiskey. One of them poured while the other passed around shot glasses. When she got to me, she made a show of brushing her fake tits up against my hand. I was about to tell her to get the fuck away from me when out of the corner of my eye I noticed Isaac watching my every move.

I grabbed the shot glass from the blonde and set it in the other blonde’s cleavage. I made a show of licking the salt off her breast before dipping my head between her tits to bite the glass with my teeth. I threw back the shot all while holding Doe tightly to my side. I waved my hand dismissively when I was done, tossing her my empty glass and then redirecting my attention toward Isaac, who for the meantime, seemed satisfied.

Preppy and Bear stood in the back of the room. I had an uneasy feeling about the situation, and obviously so did they because they were in position to where if the shit hit they fan, they would be able to shoot their way out.

“Let’s not sit in here and hash this shit out right now,” Preppy said. “Let’s party tonight and schedule a formal meet for tomorrow, when we’ve all had a chance to get drunk and get some pussy.”

I could sense Preppy’s wariness. I was able to read him better than anyone, and what he was really saying was let’s get the fuck out of here.

Bear chimed in as well, “Yeah man, let’s go out to the courtyard. Strippers should be here by now. Bump and the boys are setting up mud wrestling out back. Let’s get loaded, and get our dicks wet before all the serious talk goes down.”

“Sounds good.” I stood and started toward the door, dragging Doe with me.

Right when we reached the door, two of Isaac’s men stepped into the room and closed it, blocking our exit, raising their guns.

When we turned around, three more of Isaac’s men emerged from the room right behind the desk. Their pistols drawn and aimed.

“That’s it? You fuck me over and expect that I would just party with you and forget all about it?” Isaac asked. He stood and walked in front of the desk. “You can’t just shit all over a business I’d spent decades running. I’m not your whore. You can’t choose to get in bed with me when it best suits you then leave me hanging after you have thoroughly fucked me.”

“I was locked up,” I argued, knowing that wouldn’t be a good enough reason for Isaac. “You wouldn’t deal with Prep. We needed to earn. We didn’t cut you out. We made a business decision. A temporary one. I’ve been trying to reach you since my release, but you’ve had your balls in a knot. I’m not your girlfriend, Isaac. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. Now, let’s move the fuck on, and if you want to talk, we’ll talk. But let them get back to the party.” I waved my hands at my friends and Doe. “That way, they, at least, can enjoy themselves tonight.”

“You think it’s that fucking easy do you? This county may belong to you, but this is my coast. Anytime one of you little trailer trash bastards wants to so much as take a shit, you need my fucking permission!” Isaac spat, pounding a fist onto the desk. His face reddened. He turned his head to the side and passed the heel of his hand against his face, cracking his jaw from side to side.

Bear went for his pistol but he wasn’t fast enough. One of the men who blocked the door pressed his gun to the back of Bear’s neck.

“Don’t even fucking think about it,” he warned.

Preppy spoke up, “What the fuck do you want, Isaac? You want us to make it up to you? You want money? Fine, we’ll up your cut. Make you richer than you already are. I honestly didn’t think you’d care. We’re small-time compared to your other operations. King was locked up. The idea was all mine. This entire thing is on me.” His voice grew louder as he got bolder. “You want someone to blame? Blame me.” He wasn’t cursing, and his tone was serious. That worried me more than the guns to our heads.