Présentation de l'éditeur
I made my way to a small door flanked by two heavily built men wearing tank tops and army pants. They look liked stevedores moonlighting as bouncers. The one on the right was a Caucasian skin-headed man while on the left was a Blackman with a crew cut. They towered well over a couple of feet from me and looking at the size of their chest, I would say they were gym buffs pumped full of steroids.
"You're late, you should've been here half an hour ago," skinhead said as he pushed open the door. I looked at him as I passed and it seemed as though his eyes were glinting, as if he knew something I didn't.
"Be seeing you soon, cutie," he added as he wrung my ass with his big burly hand. I squirmed and that made the black guy smile. I went in.
Rotini was sitting behind his desk. The light bulb above his head made his features a bit sullen.
"It's about time," he said. His voice seemed to echo all throughout the house making it sound like he was distant. "I usually don't tolerate latecomers," he continued, blowing out smoke from his mouth and putting down his cigar on the ashtray.
"I got hang-up. Abandoned warehouses aren't really one of the places where I go. Besides, who would've thought such a place existed," I said sarcastically.
"Places like these are one of a kind," he said, breathing in. I could hear his lungs rasp as he inhaled deep. God knows what they are filled of. "Places like these aren't like the streets," he continued, stood up and slowly came around the front of his desk. "Or like the whorehouses..." he added, sitting down on the mahogany top. "Or any of the filthy rooms you went to fuck in," he pressed on. I imagined him smiling as those words left his mouth.
"Cut the shit off, Rotini. I'm here for business. Are we going to lay it out or do we have to do it some other time," I said, raising my voice in tension.
"Relax," he said, cooling off. "Calm yourself my dear boy, we will...we will," he said trailing back towards his chair again.
"I am not got all night," I said, still having the tension in my voice.
"Very well," he said, sinking back in his chair. "Seeing that you are very excitable tonight, I'll cut through the chase," he added, picking up his cigar once again.
"Good," I said, standing up. "Shall I take my clothes off then, so we can get this over with," I continued, unzipping my jacket.
"Hold your horses handsome," he said, puffing his cigar and then blowing out blue smoke.
I looked at him, bewildered. "Isn't this the reason why you made me come here?" I said.
Rotini laughed under his breath. "Don't get me wrong," he said, breathing in hard as if he had trouble getting air inside his lungs. "I'm not what you think I am," there was a pause. "I'm no goddamn queer if that's what you thought. I don't do gay," he said, dead seriousness in his words.
"What is this?" I said, retaliating. My pulse began to race.
"I'm a money man," he said. "I do business. That's why you're here. We're here to do business," Rotini leaned back on his chair and began swiveling himself.
"For your information, I am not got anything to deal out. Heck I don't even got enough dough for my ass," I said, leaning over to emphasize my point.
"I don't need your money," Rotini stopped swiveling himself on the chair and place his elbows on his desk.