American Criminal (36 page)

    “The Club,” Jerry said.

    “What club?”

    “What do you mean ‘what club’? We’re going to our headquarters near Times Square – the Paladin Club. Didn’t they tell you anything?”

    “Jerry, they put me on a plane and told me to meet you at the airport. That’s about it.”

    “Wow, I guess it was a need-to-know situation and you weren’t on the need-to-know list,” Jerry said, laughing.

    He cracked his window and lit a cigarette. Burnside followed suit and lit his own.

    “So what’s this club like?” Ray asked, sucking in a lungful of smoke and blowing it out.

    “It’s only the premiere club in the city,” Jerry said, grinning as he blew smoke at Burnside.

    They left the airport and began traveling on unfamiliar streets towards the heart of the city. When they got closer to Times Square, Ray recognized where he was.

    “Wow, you’re right,” Ray said. “This place is close to Times Square.”

    “Buddy, you ain’t seen nothing yet,” Jerry said, grinning.

    They passed several glitzy restaurants and nightclubs with cute names and neon signs. They eventually pulled into a large parking garage and Jerry showed his ID to a security guard at the gate. Burnside thought the guard looked more like a street thug than a security guard. His square-jawed, unshaven face was set into a permanent scowl. He was starting to miss LA’s happy, suntanned faces already.

    They parked on the second level and walked to an elevator. They took it down to the street level, walked one block, and Ray looked up to see the flashing red neon sign of Club Palladin. The club was located on a busy street packed with traffic, pedestrians, and ubiquitous New York cabs.

    They entered the front double glass doors and Jerry nodded to the muscular, suited bouncer standing beside the cashier. Ray was pleased to note that this gentleman was at least shaven and well-dressed – despite his stereotypical “Guido” appearance of slicked back black hair. Ray couldn’t blame him – he had the same hairstyle now. He just wanted to fit in.

    Ray’s eyes widened as he observed the spacious, multi-level club. A fancy restaurant equipped with tuxedoed waiters opened to a massive dance floor surrounded by balconies patrons could ascend to. To the left of the dance floor was a long bar where four harried bartenders served patrons seated at a row of bar stools. It was only six o’clock and already the restaurant and bar were packed. The only empty tables were the ones in the bar area, the balconies, and the far side of the dance floor.

    Ray and Jerry cut through the restaurant area, crossed a section of the dance floor, and entered the bar area. Ray felt strange to be carrying a large suitcase through the club.

    “Do I have time to get a drink?” Burnside asked, spotting a gorgeous, dark-haired bartender serving drinks at the long bar.

    “Not yet. You have to meet your new boss first,” Jerry said, leading Ray between the circular tables toward an office door to the left of the bar.

    Jerry opened the door and Ray followed him up a steep stairwell to the second level. They entered a lavish waiting room furnished with leather couches and chairs. A young, attractive, female secretary sat at an impressive mahogany desk at the far end of the room. There was an open office door behind her. Ray admired the faux Classical paintings on the faux wood-paneled walls as Jerry led him toward the secretary’s desk.

    “Can I help you?” the secretary asked, sweetly, as she offered them a saccharine smile.

Ray thought she was trying to hard with her platinum blonde hair and overdone makeup. Ray placed his heavy suitcase on the floor to give his arm a rest.

    “Ray Burnside is here to see Mr. Salducci,” Jerry said.

    The fake blonde pressed a button on a small desk intercom and spoke into it, “Mr. Salducci, I have a Ray Burnside here to meet you.”

    “Very good, send him in,” a deep voice with a strong New York accent replied from the speaker.

    “You can see Mr. Salducci now,” the blonde said, repeating a more forced version of her previous pseudo-smile.

    “Okay, pal, you’re on your own from here,” Jerry said. “Good luck. I’ll talk to you later. I’m sure we’ll meet up again.” Jerry smiled and winked at Ray before he walked away. Ray carried his suitcase through the open office door.

    Ray was impressed. The office was large, well-furnished, and overlooked the dance floor and restaurant through a wall-length picture window. Salducci sat in a high-backed leather office chair behind a mahogany desk. Two comfortable leather chairs faced the desk and Salducci gestured for Ray to sit in one of them. Ray placed his suitcase beside a chair and sat down.

    Salducci retrieved a pack of cigarettes from a desk drawer, took one out, and lit it up. He sucked in a lungful and blew it out. He couldn’t have been more different from Ray’s previous LA Boss, Jimmy Michaelitsi. Instead of being easygoing and overweight, Salducci had a lean, hungry look that reminded Ray of a ravenous wolf. Salducci wore a black, custom-tailored suit, and instead of wearing a tie, his dress shirt collar was open to reveal multiple rings of gleaming gold chains. He was thin, but wiry, with a clean-shaven face and thick black hair slicked back with gel.

    “What’s in the suitcase?” Salducci asked, flashing Ray a grin that looked more like a leer.

    “Money,” Ray said.

    “I like the way you pack,” Salducci said, blowing out a thin stream of smoke across the table. “Was your flight okay?”

    “Sure.”

    “How did you like working in LA?”

    “I liked it,” Burnside said, keeping his expression impassive.

    “I heard you requested a transfer to NYC,” the boss said.

    “That’s true.”

    “Do you have friends around here?”

    “Something like that.”

    “Just remember that your personal business always comes second to company business,” Salducci said, narrowing his eyes.

    Ray thought he looked like a lean gray wolf sizing up its prey.

    “I don’t have a problem with that,” Ray said.

    “Good. Then you should work out fine here.”                                
 
   

Jet Lag

    “Jimmy told me about some of the tough jobs you did for him in LA,” Salducci said, taking a drag from his cigarette and blowing out a thin stream of smoke. “A guy with your talents could make it real big here in NYC. If you do what you’re told, your opportunities will be unlimited.” Salducci paused to await a response from Burnside.

    “I appreciate that,” Ray said, remaining expressionless.

    “Jimmy told me you’re low maintenance, which is good. We don’t have time to mess around with prima donnas or cowboys. We work as a team here.”

    “That’s the way it was in LA. They partnered me up with some good guys,” Ray said.

“Me and Michaelitsi go way back,” Salducci said, blowing out another thin stream of smoke. “If he says you’re a good guy, that’s good enough for me. We’re going to set you up with a legitimate job at the club. Have you ever done any bartending?”

    “Never.”

    “Then, we’re going to train you to be one. You have to work a legitimate job to justify the money you’re making. Bartenders at this club can make big bucks in tips. When you do a job, you have to declare some of that money in tips. Our accountant will help you with the paperwork. Do you have a problem with any of that?”

    “Not at all.”

    “You can work as a bouncer at the club until you’re fully trained. You’ll be paying taxes just like any good citizen. That’s how we keep the law off our backs.”

    “I understand.”

    “Good, then we can move forward,” Salducci said, reaching into a drawer. He pulled out a piece of paper and a set of keys and handed them to Burnside. “Here are the keys and address for your temporary apartment. It’s not the greatest, but it will do until you set yourself up in the city.”

    “Thanks,” Ray said, taking the keys and address.

    “No problem. Your car should arrive by train tomorrow. Until then, the cabs or the subway can get you anywhere you want to go. Got it?”

    “Got it.”

    “Good, now why don’t you head downstairs and meet with Alicia at the bar. She will start your training as a bartender. She will also give you your work schedule. Sound good?”

    “Sounds good.”

    “This meeting is concluded,” Salducci said, snuffing out his cigarette in a gold ashtray. “Good luck with your endeavors.”

    “Thank you,” Ray said, standing from the chair and picking up his suitcase. Salducci leaned back in his chair, studying Burnside intently. Ray pretended not to notice as he nodded at the mob boss and exited the office. 

    “Good night,” Ray said to the secretary.

    “You too, Mr. Burnside,” the secretary replied with a ridiculously exaggerated New York accent.

    Burnside grinned and continued across the lobby to the stairs. He descended and approached the bar. He hoped that the Alicia, who the boss had referred to, was the gorgeous brunette bartender working the end of the bar. There was also a slightly overweight, middle-aged brunette working the middle of the bar, but she didn’t possess the first bartender’s charms. Ray hoped his luck would hold.

    Ray walked over to the bar, placed his suitcase on the floor and introduced himself to the attractive brunette, “Hi, I’m Ray Campion. I’m supposed to meet with Alicia.”

The tanned brunette was wearing a white dress shirt with two open buttons at the top, exposing her formidable cleavage. Ray tried to focus on her eyes. They were large and gray.

    “I’m Alicia,” the brunette said, looking Ray up and down. She raised her left eyebrow as she appraised his muscular shoulders, arms, and chest. 

    “I’m here for training,” Ray added, feeling awkward.

    “Okay, Ray, it’s too busy to train you now, but I can give you a training schedule.”

    “That’s fine.”

    “I’ll be right back, “Alicia said, turning and walking through an open doorway behind the bar. Ray checked her out as she walked away. She was wearing tight black dress pants, which showed off the perfect contours of her lower body.

    So far, my luck is holding,
Ray thought.

    The brunette returned with a schedule in hand and scrutinized it. “Let’s see, tomorrow is Thursday: a fairly busy night here. Why don’t you come in when we open at noon and I’ll train you at the bar while there are not too many customers around. Then, after taking a break, you can work the night shift as a bouncer. Does that sound good?”

    “Very good. What’s the dress code?”

    “Black dress pants, white shirt for bartending,” Alicia said, smiling as she gestured to her fellow bartenders who were all wearing the same thing.

    Burnside felt chagrined and he would have flushed if he wasn’t so used to remaining expressionless in prison and giving nothing away.

    “I guess that’s obvious,” Ray said, flashing Alicia his most charming grin.

    “For your job as a bouncer, you can wear the same uniform, but you have to add a black suit jacket and black tie.”

    Burnside raised his left eyebrow at the mention of a tie – an ideal strangulation weapon.

    “Don’t worry, the tie is clip-on to avoid injury,” Alicia added, raising her left eyebrow as she smiled, mischievously, as if reading his mind. “We’ll provide you with it.”

    “Good, we wouldn’t want any injuries this early on the job,” Ray said, smiling back.

    “No, we wouldn’t,” Alicia said, dropping her eyes to his chest muscles. “I’ll see you tomorrow at noon and give you a full week’s schedule. Okay?”

    “I look forward to seeing you tomorrow,” Ray said, picking up his suitcase from the floor. He flashed her a genuine smile, nodded his head, and walked away.

This just keeps getting better.

    Ray realized he was still grinning like a fool as he passed through the restaurant area and exited the front doors. He felt like a geeky high school student with a crush on the prom queen. 

    Ray flagged down a cab and gave the driver the address of his temporary apartment. He was pleased to find that it was only a ten-minute drive from the club. The apartment wasn’t as bad as he expected. He was picturing something like the sleazy motel room he rented in Hollywood, and he was pleasantly surprised when he found it clean and tidy. The apartment was significantly smaller than his condo in LA, but it had everything he needed; a bed, a stove, a microwave, a recliner, a television. He figured that was all he needed for now until he looked for his own place. Salducci said his Camry would arrive tomorrow morning by train.

    Ray took half a stack of hundred-dollar bills from his suitcase and placed it in his wallet. He locked the suitcase and slid it under the bed. He went outside, flagged down another cab, and asked the driver to bring him to the closest store that sold suits. The cabbie took him to a nearby Men’s Wearhouse.

    With traffic, the ride was still less than fifteen minutes, and Ray gave the cabbie a hundred-dollar bill to wait for him. Ray had no problem finding a pair of black dress pants and a white dress shirt that fit. Unfortunately, the suit jackets were either too tight in the shoulders and arms or too loose in the stomach area. He didn’t want to look like a fool for his first day on the job, so he gave the salesman two hundreds and asked him to perform a quick tailoring job. The salesman took his measurements and gave the jacket to a technician in the back room. He told Burnside to come back in an hour and it would be ready.

    Burnside returned to the cab and gave the driver another hundred. He asked the cabbie to take him to the nearest pharmacy and the driver was happy to oblige. Ray picked up some snacks and toiletry items and returned to the cab. He asked the driver to bring him to the closest grocery store. Once there, he stocked up on enough groceries to last several days.

    After shopping, the cabbie brought Ray back to the Men’s Warehouse and Ray spent the next half-hour smoking and shooting the shit with the cabbie. The cabbie told him about all the hot clubs and restaurants he knew about in the city and Ray was happy to discover that the club he was working at was at the top of the list. The cabbie was impressed when Ray told him he would be working there as a bartender.

After smoking a few cigarettes with the cabbie, Ray returned to the sales floor. The salesman told him his suit jacket was almost ready. While he was waiting, Ray bought some t-shirts, several pairs of underwear, a belt, two pairs of shiny black shoes, and ten pairs of black socks. Then, he picked out a warm black topcoat that he could wear over a suit.

    Ray thought he probably looked ridiculous trying on the topcoat over his shorts and t-shirt, but he didn’t care. The cool March weather demanded that he cover up. He rang up the order at the register and browsed around the store wearing his new topcoat with his bare legs sticking out until the salesman told him his suit jacket was ready. He tried it on and it fit perfectly.

    Ray returned to the register and purchased the suit coat and several extra white shirts and dark pairs of pants. He carried his new clothing to the cab, handed the cabbie another hundred, and asked the driver to return him to his address. The driver complimented his new topcoat as he pulled away from the curb. Upon arrival, Ray gave the driver another hundred and asked him if he could pick him up tomorrow at eleven-thirty and drive him to the Palladin Club. The driver enthusiastically assented.

    Ray carried the clothing and groceries to the lobby elevator and rode it up to his apartment on the third floor. He unlocked the door, carried in the supplies, and re-secured the deadbolt. He placed the perishables in the fridge, the non-perishables in the cabinets, and the clothes in the closet. He checked the clock radio on the bed table and saw it was 8:18 PM. He had plenty of time to relax. He had felt jet-lagged when he got off the plane, but the excitement of being back in NYC had canceled it out. Now that his initial excitement was fading, he was feeling jet-lagged again.

    Ray nuked a microwave dinner and brought it to the living room. He sat in the recliner, used the remote to switch on the wide-screen television, and watched some quality programming while he ate Weight-watchers Chicken Chow Mein. Ray wasn’t trying to lose weight. He bought this particular meal because he enjoyed the taste. Compared to prison food, it was gourmet cuisine.

    After dinner, Ray tossed the empty dinner package on the floor and lit a cigarette. He spent the rest of the evening smoking and watching TV until he felt himself drifting off to sleep at about 10:30 PM. He went to the bedroom and set the alarm on the clock radio for 10:30 AM. The last thing he remembered before drifting to sleep was an image of his hands wrapped around his old tactical team supervisor’s throat as he choked the life out of him.