Maybe Stand By Me

Five: 2004

These weekly dinners had become somewhat of a tradition in the last four years, much to his chagrin. He liked Donald well enough, his deep chuckle, his frankly odd sense of humour and his lively conversations. It was his tone that struck him, how he spoke of murder and destruction as though he was simply asking for the butter to be passed to him. Donald Price was an enigma, one Marcus did not want to get on the wrong side of.

"You know, Montgomery." Donald swirled the wine in his glass repeatedly, but made no moves to drink it, "You've surprised me."

"How so?"

He knew exactly how. It was no secret that Marcus had made himself some sort of a force to be reckoned with since his sixteenth birthday, the first day he had managed to get tangled up with the law. Being a busboy didn't quite pay the bills in the same way that sneaking the chefs pills did. It was easy for him, he was small and spindly in a way that didn't intimidate other men much, until he opened his mouth.

"You," Donald eventually took a long sip of wine, clicking his tongue with a smile, "have come a long way in five years. I am impressed. You went from pill boy to the front runner of an empire."

"I wouldn't say an empire-"

"I would." Donald interrupted firmly, "And I want to be a part of it. You know this."

Donald Price, world class lawyer and father to the next best thing, was the last person Marcus ever expected to be approached by. It happened out of the blue one night, when he was barely eighteen, and walking the streets of New York, backpack held tight and cap pulled low over his eyes. One moment he had been walking, the next his arm was roughly wrenched to the side and he found himself stumbling head first into a limousine, door slamming behind him.

He had assumed one of two things; the cops had gotten him, or a rival drug runner. Once his eyes adjusted to the blinding lights inside of the limo, he nearly fainted at the sight of Donald Price, the man he knew from bench ads, beaming down at him eerily.

"My boy," He had said, "You and I have much to discuss."

And the rest had been history. He had to admit, it was nice to meet someone that saw him for his potential, that saw his work and realised he could be something more than a runner for other people's drugs. He had ideas, crazy ideas that just could work with the right funding behind him. He was tired of running for chefs and the minimum wage workers of America, he wanted to hit the economy where it hurt, right at its richest.

"Yes." Marcus said eventually, "And you know I appreciate your help in everything."

"I know. But I have been very patient, it is time to get things rolling."

"How so?"

"I want to send you to Russia."

Marcus spluttered, crumbs flying back onto his plate, "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

Donald was a man of few words and many expressions; his brow was furrowed, glass now firmly placed on the table as he sat back, watching Marcus carefully.

"You want to send me to the Soviet Union alone? Why?"

"It wouldn't be alone. My son, Richard, is finally stepping up into the family business."

"Of lawyers?"

Donald chuckled at this, shaking his head, "Who better than to cheat the system than the very people who run it? My son knows the legal system by the back of his hand, he has beat the best of the best in court. You need him."

"So what am I? A puppet?"

"I consider you an investment. If we breach Europe, there is no limit to what we can accomplish here in the states. Drugs, guns...hell, even people. We'll have a kingdom, and I want you two at the helm of it."

Marcus stared at him in silence for a moment, head reeling. On one hand, it was everything he had worked for all these years, the chance to get recognised. To get everything he had ever wanted; money, notoriety, fear. On the other hand, it was almost too good to be true, someone handing this to him like he was their own son.

"Forgive me for my hesitation but...why me?"

Donald paused for a moment, tapping his chin thoughtfully, "I don't know."

"You fill me with confidence."

"Don't read too much into this but...it just seems like the right thing to do. I feel that you and my son could lead each other in the right direction."

The restaurant around them was abuzz with life, violins playing softly in the background, muffling the sounds of chatter and scraping of cutlery. Women threw their heads back in almost synchronised unison, laughing gently at whatever horrible jokes the men paying for dinner were telling them.

"I..." Marcus exhaled deeply, "I accept."

Donald's resounding beam was practically blinding.

–

Richard Price was not quite what he was expecting. It felt almost like a blind date, both of them being told a time to meet at the Plaza for drinks and a 'business meeting' which seemed closer to a play date than anything else. Donald was more than enthused at the opportunity and told Marcus to look his absolute best, warning him that this deal would succeed.

Marcus donned his one suit, slicked back his hair with a glob of gel and shined his scuffed shoes. He looked the part, though a secondhand version of it, but he had yet to feel it. When he looked at himself in the mirror he saw a boy playing dress up in his fathers clothes, trying to look like a grown up. His face still held his youth, slightly pudgy around his jaw where it should be sharp, and small marks of stubble rather than a full fledged beard. But he straightened his shoulders, held his rounded chin high and narrowed his eyes. While he might not be able to instantly transform himself, he could play the part.

He had left his apartment an hour early, too antsy to keep pacing the stained carpet for even a minute more. He chose to walk, kicking a pebble down the sidewalk until it skidded away into a gutter. He could hear the noise of the Plaza even before the towering building came into view, people darting in and out and the loud sounds of jazz coming from the open doors. Each person was dressed fancier than he believed possible, one man even sporting a top hat which he tipped at a lady that passed by. Glancing at his watch he sighed and chose to lean against a pillar nearby, entrance firmly ensconced in his eyeline as he kept an eye out for Richard.

Surprisingly, he recognised him instantly. His pictures didn't do him justice; he was tall, lean, and everything Marcus realised he should look like. His jaw was covered with a five o'clock shadow visible from where he stood and his suit was perfectly fitted to each fibre of him and he frowned. Jealousy wasn't a look he employed often, but the mere sight of Richard had the small green devil tapping it's feet angrily inside of his brain, ranting and raving at him.

Richard glanced at his watch before entering the building, briefly shaking hands with the doorman. Keeping his distance, Marcus trailed behind him, hands shoved into his pockets, keen to observe how Richard held himself. He stood tall, grinning at each person that stopped to greet him, leaving them with either a hand clasped on their shoulder or a slap on the back. When his hands weren't occupied they swung close to his sides, his steps perfectly meticulous and clacking against the marble floors.

Richard was already on his way to becoming a world class lawyer, this much Marcus knew from his limited research, and by looking at him, this was immediately obvious. At that moment, Marcus knew exactly why Donald thought they would be a good fit. Between the pair of them, they seemed...innocent. Marcus was small, compact, childlike, while Richard was composed, proper. Who would suspect them of being international drug dealers?

"If you're done scurrying behind me like a mouse..." A warm voice in his ear made him jump, "I believe we have drinks to attend to."

Richard's grin made his words land a bit lighter, removing the heavy weight that had settled in Marcus' gut.

"Richard Price." He held out a hand.

Marcus grasped it eagerly, trying to match the strength of the other man's grip, "Marcus Montgomery."

And so, an empire was born.