“When will I get to see him?” she asked.
“When you’ve showed me that I can trust you. For now, he stays with me. But don’t worry. He’s got a bed and my people will keep him safe. There’s no need for people to die from neglect. In fact, you should see this as a big opportunity for a new career. I’ve only known your name for an hour and had my men ask around. Many claim you’ve helped a lot of unsavory characters. Apparently, you’re the queen of. . .how do they say it. . .frenemies.”
“Bad guys aren’t always bad people.”
“Then, we’ll have a happy partnership.”
She stirred but forced herself to smile. “I agree. I’m willing to do anything to keep my brother safe. Let me know, and I can figure it out. You’ll be happy.”
My mind drifted to the other ways she could make me happy and then I pulled my imagination back. If someone killed my washer, then they were trying to stop my money in New York. Everyone knew, if you owned New York, you owned America. And I enjoyed my hold on this country. But, someone thought they could do a better job. It was time to focus on the war ahead. I figured it would be small and take no more than a week.
What could this country do to me, that my own country hadn’t already done?
I’d been born into death, so I welcomed it, whenever it rang.
I walked off, paused, and then turned around. “You never told me why you painted the lions.”
“Someone commissioned me to do it.”
Coincidence or connected?
“Who?” I asked.
“I don’t know. It was an anonymous person which isn’t really a huge deal in the art world. I was asked to paint them three months ago, do a showing, and then deliver on a particular date. Which happens to be tomorrow.”
“But, you don’t know who commissioned you?”
“No.”
I mentally filed it away. In life, things happened for a reason. Instinct told me to pay attention to everything, even the little things. Nothing ever was a true coincidence. One could always find a connection in the tiniest moments.
“When you find out who commissioned the paintings, let me know.”
She scrunched her face in confusion, but then shifted it back to neutral. “I will.”
“And the painting with the lion and the mouse, I’m buying that one. You’ll have to explain that to your buyer. If he doesn’t like it, then I’ll explain it.”
She widened her eyes and nodded.
“How much?” I asked.
“I hadn’t thought of a price for any of them, since the person had already paid.”
“Then, I’ll come up with my own price and have my men pick it up after the showing.”
“Sounds good.” She walked over to the door and opened it.
I left and found the whole situation more pleasing than any other business dealing I could think of. While she must’ve been scared, she handled it well. I’d had men urinate right in front of me, so scared they couldn’t control their bladder. I had women try to run before I’d even presented my question. Other women came on to me sexually to get their way. And then there were the ones who tried to babble out of working with me, begging for their lives, pleading for their freedom.
This wasn’t her. She was compliant and straightforward. It felt more like a business interview than anything else.
There’s something more to her.
When the office door closed, I gestured for one of my men. “Put ears and eyes on her.”
“Yes, sir. They’ve already installed cameras inside her brownstone, but they haven’t finished yet.”
“Good.” I headed out of the hallway and met with Sasha who stared at a family of lions tearing an antelope apart. Instead of red paint, the blood sparkled with crimson gems.
“I love her work,” Sasha said.
“She’s talented and beautiful. This will be fun.”
Sasha eyed me. “How much fun are you planning to have, brother?”
“Do you see the subject of her paintings?”
“Yes.” He rolled his eyes. “The lions.”
“It means something.”
We walked off.
“Fine.” Sasha waved me away. “It means something. Perhaps, it means good luck.”
I glanced back at the painting I’d bought. “But, the lion is caught in the net.”
“And the mouse helps get him out.”
We stepped outside. The night air chilled my skin.
“Then, she will be my mouse.” I headed to the limo.
“No, she will be our washer. I hate when you do your sync thing. It always gets us into trouble.”
“It’s synchronicity and I’ve showed you hundreds of times that it works. We wouldn’t be here, if not for meaningful coincidences. Carl Jung believed that—”
“Carl Jung is dead, and you will be too if you don’t stop with your meaningful coincidences.”
“There’s no such thing as a coincidence, my friend. It’s all connected.” I tapped the side of my head. “That’s what keeps us ahead of everyone else. I keep my eyes open.”
“You keep your eyes open? That’s why?” Sasha laughed. “Maybe we’re also ahead of everyone else because you don’t mind peeling the skin off men one strip at a time, when they betray you.”
“Loyalty keeps us strong.”
“I agree, so leave your dead man and his meaningful coincidences alone, as well as this mouse.”
I smiled. “Mysh. That’s what I will call her. My little mouse.”
Sasha laughed again. “I think you’re just looking for an excuse to fuck her.”
“I don’t need to create one. She’s beautiful and smart. That’s enough.”
“Well, she’s not for fucking, but if she doesn’t clean this money, maybe you can fuck her right before I kill her.”
I ignored him. Killing women was his thing, not mine. When he saw a beautiful lady, he thought of the ways he could make her scream. Whereas I just wanted to make her moan.
“Do you think she can handle this?” Sasha asked.
“The universe will decide. So far, the lion is trapped in rope and the mouse is getting him out. Is it a meaningful coincidence or is it my destiny?”
“Destinies and meaningful coincidences.” Sasha pointed to a billboard. “Look there. That’s a lion with his cock cut off. There’s your sign. What does that say?”
I looked at the billboard. It was empty. “You just make sure someone is watching her.”
“Of course. For now, she’s the most important person in this shitty country. I sent Ivan in.”
“Have Ivan send the footage of her place to my phone.”
“I did.” He frowned. “I never forget how much you enjoy watching people. Where do we go next?”
“The night is still early. I want to meet Penelope and find out more about this missing hooker.”
Sasha’s frown deepened. “Hookers and brothels. Will the fun ever end?”
“We’re in New York. This city never sleeps.”
“And if we go to a brothel tonight, we won’t sleep either.”
“Then, we should eat first. The Russian Tea Room?” I asked. “You always talk about it.”