Vendetta

Chapter 12: Despite All

Dakota

November's Beginning

~~~~

Downstairs, The Pit was empty, which was normal considering how early into the day it was. This place wasn't meant for early birds. It was for late-night brawlers, slutty gold diggers, gangs, and the lowest of the low. The Cage, a boxing ring with a chain link gate about ten feet high, stood looming in the center of the room. My muscles twitched with anticipation. I fought in the Cage recently and won. I mean winning isn't all that new to me but I've grown to love the rush and the adrenaline of dodging blows. I like the feel of my knuckles against someone's nose. It's become somewhat of a...comfort. The industrial motion sensor lights flickered to life as we walked through The Pit. Our footfalls echoed loudly.

I pushed through the metal door that led to another short hallway. Pedro followed me silently down the hall to Lenny's open office door. Lenny sat at his desk overlooking some paperwork. His glasses sat on the bridge of his nose as he frowned down at the words.

I knocked my knuckles on the door once to announce our arrival. He grunted and waved a hand, signaling for us to step in and close the door. He put the papers down and snatched his glasses off. He groaned in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Ugh, fuck," Lenny's voice was rough and laced with irritation.

I leaned on the closed door behind me and crossed my arms over my chest.

I refrained from rolling my eyes. Lenny was a money-hungry fucker who used people. The only reason I was still pressed under his thumb was because of my dad. Lenny was his "business partner" before he died a few years ago. Lenny, apparently,  had made a promise to keep me under his wing. I think he only kept me around because he liked the thought of using me to win those Cage brawls. Don't get me wrong, I loved fighting, but Lenny was always tryna finesse me out of money. He always claimed it was to keep the bar atop the Pit open. It was the cover for the Pits so the police wouldn't raid. 

I filled him in on the previous job. I told him about how the guy gave up the money easily. Which was good for both him and me. I didn't have the time to deal with Lenny's bullshit every day.

"Oh, ok good," Lenny says gruffly. "Back to the issue at hand..."

***

Lenny explained the situation. Turns out someone has been picking up some of our customers around the city. We've been losing money every week. He wanted Pedro and me to deal with it. We were always the ones who did his dirty work. Of course, he had others like Jax, the kid at the door. But he was too young to get deep in. For now, little Jax was a runner. 

After Pedro and I had a little chitchat about what we were gonna do concerning the situation, we decided to part ways for the night and meet up again in the morning.

***

"Ahhh!" In the back seat, Alyssa squealed happily. "The Bistro!" She laughed. I turned in my seat to see a great smile stretching her cheeks. She launched herself out of the car and skipped towards the door.

It was the following morning after we met with Lenny. Pedro and I had decided to bring his little sister, Alyssa to The Bistro with us. She hadn't been in a long time.

"I've been kind of avoiding bringing her back. We come to every blue moon," Pedro explained. I looked away, remembering Mr. Gonzalez. A very caring man, with a heart so large it was almost suffocating. He was always kind to me, though. He never judged my mother or her children for the situation they were in. He knew of my mother's traumatizing childhood and never held it against her. He welcomed us into his warm, complete, and loving home and always made sure we were beyond comfortable. He made us feel like family. He and my mother adored the little café and spent a lot of their time there, laughing and reminiscing on the past. He was my mother's dearest friend and cried just as hard as we had when we lost her. Even then, he held my sister and me in his arms and let us weep on his shoulders. He took us in and even praised my sister when she decided to live with our grandmother in New York. I couldn't help but wonder what they would have thought of us. The boys they molded to be friends. They must have been proud witnesses of the bond we had. The closeness we shared.