James heads to his bathroom, and sends Clint a text to meet him at the club in an hour. He showers, throws on some dark jeans, a black shirt and his black leather Jacket, and heads down to his garage.
The garage was a vast expanse with sleek, polished concrete floors that gleamed under the soft illumination of concealed LED lights. Rows upon rows of vehicles lined the space, each one a symbol of power and wealth.
The centerpiece of the garage was a pristine 1967 Shelby Cobra, its metallic blue body catching the light just right. Parked beside it was a sleek black Rolls-Royce Phantom, exuding a level of sophistication. A line of Italian supercars, including Lamborghinis and Ferraris, stood nearby, their glistening paint jobs reflecting the aura of affluence that permeated the space. Motorcycles, too, had their place in James's collection. A row of Harley-Davidsons and custom-built choppers lined one wall, their chrome accents shimmering like works of art. Each bike was meticulously maintained and ready for action at a moment's notice. This was on of James' favorite pastimes. He assisted in every single one of his custom bikes, helping actually build them. His personal favorite though is his Harley Davidson street 750.
James hops on his favorite ride, and takes off, speeding down the quiet neighborhood to the club. He parks behind the establishment and sneaks in the back door and walks to his office. Clint is already waiting for him.
"Do you have to bring him everywhere?" James questions Clint about his visitor. "He's housebroken..." Clint responds, reaching down and petting a beautiful golden retriever.
"He looks like our hostage...how'd he lose the eye again?" James questions. "We don't talk about it. Hostage?" Clint questions.
"Clint, we've got a problem. Word on the street is that there is a new player. No one knows who they are. They're moving into our territory faster than I expected. I've got one of their guys in the basement but he's not giving up shit." James says, visibly irritated.
"I've heard some rumors. Sounds like a savage crew. Remember that guy that turned up in the Hudson?" Clint replies
"Yea...missing his dick right?"James replies
"Kinda cliche but yea. Seemed to get the message across. No one's talking now. Too scared" Clint answers.
"That's more....of a woman's revenge" James says, shuddering.
"The rumors I have heard, mention a woman in charge. But I can't verify" Clint says.
"Think we can find a way in?" James questions.
"Well, they are looking for a new dealer, James....can we spare Sam?"
"Call him, set it up. I need someone inside. Find out who all the players are."James decides. Clint nods and goes to leave the room. "Hey take your dog, he's gonna leave hair on my floor".
"Cmon lucky! Let's go!" Clint calls to the dog.
"Hey, can you look into someone else for me?" James stops him. "Sure boss, just need a name."
"Lexi Black."
"Sure, needing a new girl?" Clint asks
"No...personal reasons..." James replies. Clint nods and heads out.
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Wanda and Lexi exchanged glances, their expressions veiling secrets of the previous night's events. The hushed whispers of the treadmills and clinking of weights provided an eerie backdrop to their conversation. Wanda, with her striking red hair cascading down her shoulders, leaned against a bench press machine, her eyes reflecting a mixture of curiosity and concern. Lexi, equally mysterious with her smoky eyes and enigmatic aura, approached her cautiously.
YOU ARE READING
Paint it Black
Fanfic⚠️18 and over. Under 18, DNI⚠️ mature content. After Lexi's ends her relationship with the world's most boring man, her friends take her out to a club for a good time and a rebound....but what she didn't know was that she would be meeting mafia bo...
