Gin Palace 01 - The Poisoned Rose

here. Frank knew that I knew this, so once again I didn’t answer. There was no reason to.
    “I’m offering you a chance to change that miserable life of yours.”
    “Am I here for work, Frank, or counseling?”
    “I’d say you need both.” He paused, then said, “You can make a lot of money in this business, Mac. The right man can clean up, buy things, cars, a house maybe, even women. The right man can break old habits and start new ones.” He stopped and studied me skeptically. “Tell me, honestly, how long has it been since your last drink? A day? An hour? Or maybe you had a little nip on the way over here.”
    “I’m not going to take your money, Frank, if it means I have to take your shit, too.”
    From the corner of my eye I saw the giant take a few steps away from the back window, moving to join Frank and me. I got the sense that if there was going to be an argument, he wanted to be a part of it. I glanced at him again and saw that his hands were empty, hanging at his sides. The folded paper was left on the window sill.
    The floorboards protested loudly under his work boots. He and I stared at each other. The rain slowed then, the sound of it lessening slightly.
    Frank closed the folder and placed it back on the top of the pile. There was something decisive about this. He glanced at the giant.
    “I don’t work with drunks,” the giant said to him.
    Frank shrugged, then looked back at me. “The men who work for me, Mac, do it because I pay top dollar. I won’t bullshit you by saying working for me is an honor, but there are a lot of men who would be more than grateful to be put on my payroll part time, let alone full time, which is what I’m offering you. You hold a certain…value to me. You can go places my other men can’t. You’re part of the scenery out here, which means you can poke around and people won’t even think twice about it. As long as no one knows you’re working for me—and why should they, right?—then I can use you.”
    “Not all that sure I want to be used, Frank.”
    “A poor choice of words. But you understand what I’m telling you, right? You’re what, twenty-nine now? Thirty? As far as I can tell, you’ve spent your adult life floating from shit job to shit job. You were a housepainter this summer, right? You had your own business, so you have some ambition, but bad luck came your way and suddenly everything you’ve worked for is gone. And of course, you can’t paint houses in the winter, so you need work. You’d need to work two minimum wage jobs just to get by, and you’d be lucky this time of year if you found one.”
    “Is there a point here, Frank?”
    “My point is, I think you’re sick of getting the short end of the stick. You had a partner in your house painting business, right? He killed his girlfriend and then himself right in front of you at the end of the summer. That’s what put you out of business, that’s what sent you into this tailspin you’ve been in lately. Trouble finds you, Mac. It has your whole life. Some people are just like that. But I think you’ve finally started to realize that if you can’t stay out of trouble, then you might as well at least start profiting from it. There comes a point in a man’s life when he has to take control of things. Otherwise, things will just keep controlling him. You look to me like a man ready to take control. Am I right, Mac? Are you ready to take control?”
    It took a moment, but finally I nodded.
    “The thing is, you’re no good to me if you can’t see straight. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
    “Yeah,” I said. “I do.”
    Frank looked at the giant again. The man offered no reaction at all. Then Frank turned to me. After a moment he looked once again at the file, then opened it. Among the pages inside were several black-and-white surveillance photos.
    He spoke, but not just to me now.
    “A client of mine paid a young man a sum of money to stay away from his daughter. It was my client’s understanding that they had an agreement. He was plain enough when he paid the kid off. But we’ve recently been made aware that the young man isn’t keeping his side of the bargain. He’s still very much in contact with the daughter. My client wants us to pass a message along to this upstart. It’s an easy money night, Mac, not a big job at all.”
    “What kind of message?” I asked.
    “One the boy will listen to. On this kind of job I like to send out two men. One to talk, the