Deviant

Chapter 5

DEVIANT

Callie Hart

Copyright © 2014 Callie Hart

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This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to peoples either living or deceased is purely coincidental. Names, places and characters are figments of the author's imagination, or, if real, used fictitiously. The author recognises the trademarks and copyrights of all registered products and works mentioned within this work.

CHAPTER FIVE

 

 

ZETH

Charlie left England back in the eighties but thirty years hasn't dampened his cockney accent. It took me a long time to figure out what the hell he was saying when I first met him but now I understand him perfectly.

"D'you need me to clear out your ears for you, boy? I 'ate 'avin' to repeat myself. My import, export business ain't none of your concern."

Sitting behind his imposing monstrosity of a desk, it's easy to see how he scares the crap out of the younger guys. Even the older guys. He looks like a pumped-up Robert De Niro, except his presence is far more intense. He's in his late sixties but the guy still fucks anything that moves, still snorts anything vaguely white and powdery, and still kills anybody who looks at him sideways. He brought me into this world of violence, though, so it's not in me to be intimidated by him.

It's been three weeks since Frankie. Three weeks since I had a slug yanked out of my shoulder by some bumbling moron who was too scared to even look me in the eye. Three weeks that I've had to recover and do a little snooping.

"I didn't even know you had an import, export business, Charlie. Thought you bought your product from the Russians. Mexicans when you had to?"

He opens the drawer to his desk and pulls out a small wooden box with a fleur-de-lis engraved into the lid. That box is a childhood relic to me. Charlie used to sit me on his knee and teach me how to roll smokes for him; he's always kept his stash in that box. He hasn't asked me to roll for him since I was ten, though, twenty-three whole years ago.

"I'm sure there's plenty of things about my business you are not privy to, Zeth. That's not your fault, I know. When I took you under my wing, I watched you for years thinking to myself, where will this small boy fit best into my organization when he sprouts hairs on his balls? I watched and I took note.

"If you'd displayed even the slightest scrap of business sense, I would'a had you involved in that side of things and you'd know all about my side projects. Everything else pertainin' therein. But that's not what I saw in you, Zeth, is it? I saw that you were a savage little shit wiv a nasty temper and I found other uses for you. Other uses that have funded your escapades for quite some time now."