Hank Henry pulled the business card from his pocket and checked the address once more. This was the place. He parked his truck and walked across the street to the construction site, scanning the workers for the owner, a guy named Chuck. He finally located the man on the side of the building and introduced himself.
Chuck gave him the once-over, then lit a cigarette. “Pauley says you do some damned fine cabinet work.”
Hank nodded. “I’m glad Pauley’s happy with his cabinets.”
“Pauley also said you do some damned fine drugs and some not-so-fine petty crimes.”
Hank gritted his teeth and counted to three. You have to expect this given your past. Don’t take the bait. “Well, sir, that would have been absolutely correct if you’d spoke to me a year ago.”
The foreman blew out a puff of smoke and squinted at Hank. “Got clean, huh? I can respect that.” He crushed out his cigarette on the side of the building and motioned Hank inside. “Place is gonna be some sort of clinic. Every room in the place is going to need cabinets, and they didn’t want those cheap white prefab jobs. Said it was ‘too clinical,’ whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean. The place is a clinic, after all.”
Hank nodded and poked his head into a couple of different rooms. After rehab, Hank understood exactly what too clinical meant. The center he’d been in was a restored Colonial mansion, and the people running it had taken a “home” approach to getting clean and their counseling. For the first time in his life, Hank had felt like a member of a family, right down to the chore list and sharing dinner every eve ning.
“Looks nice,” Hank said, wishing he had the clout to actually score the job.
“Think it’s something you can handle?”
Surprised, Hank looked at the foreman. “You’re serious?”
“Of course, I’m serious. Did you think I had you come all the way down here just for me to smoke a cigarette and run my mouth?”
“Yes…no…I mean, I figured you were talking to me as a favor to Pauley. I guess I didn’t figure you were serious about hiring me.”
“Hell, I like Pauley, but not enough to hire any excon or reformed druggie he tosses out to me. My reputation’s good in this town, and I want it to stay that way. Truth is, I saw the work you did at Pauley’s bar, and it’s some of the best I’ve seen in years. I like that you took the time to customize those cabinets particularly for the same feel as the bar, but higher scale. Really classed the place up, but without making the rest of it look shabby in comparison.”
Hank smiled, pleased that Chuck had latched on to the very thing Hank had been attempting to do with Pauley’s bar. “Thank you, sir. I really appreciate that, especially coming from you. Pauley says you’re pretty well sought after for this sort of work.”
Chuck nodded. “Stay pretty much booked.” He pointed his finger at Hank. “If you’re serious about being straight, I can help you make a name for yourself. You got the talent. If you have the discipline, you could have a hell of a career.”
Hank stared at Chuck, feeling almost dizzy over his words. A second chance at life. And not just any life—a great life, doing something he loved to do. It was almost too good to be true, and before he could stop himself, he started mentally calculating all the ways he could screw it up.
Stop it.
He forced his whirling mind to a stop. This was a golden opportunity. Some people never got one at all. He’d been given plenty and pissed them all away. If he didn’t make this one work, then he’d have to put a hit out with the Heberts on himself. “You really think I could make a living doing this?”
Chuck laughed. “Are you kidding me? With your talent, you could get rich doing this. So what do you say? You interested in this job?”
Hank smiled until his jaw ached. “Damn straight.”
Chuck stuck his hand out, and Hank shook it. “Be here tomorrow morning around nine, and we can go over the plans and the owner’s ‘vision’ for the clinic. The owner will want to be here for that. She’s nice, though—doesn’t pick things apart and ask a lot of questions like most women.” He elbowed Hank in the ribs. “She’s cute, too.”
Hank shook his head. “I just got divorced from a great woman who I wasn’t even married to for a month before I ran out on her. I’m not looking to ruin anyone else’s life.”
Chuck laughed. “Sounds like what I told my wife twenty years ago, but she did okay.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow at nine.”
Chuck gave him a nod and walked off through the building, calling for one of the workers. Hank took one final look around and exited the building, doing his best to contain his excitement. His new boss might fire him if he looked outside and saw Hank skipping. Men probably didn’t skip unless they were high, so no use giving the man any reason to worry. But still, his step was lighter as he crossed the street.
He’d already slid into the driver’s seat before he realized he had a passenger. The blood drained from his face as he looked over and saw Rico Hebert cleaning his fingernails with a razor blade.
“What’s up with the construction?” Rico asked, still focused on his fingernails. “You know this is my territory. If you’re hitting them up for anything, you gotta cut me in.”
“I’m not hitting them up for anything. The man hired me to build some cabinets.”
Rico looked up at Hank. “Straight work? Why would you want to go and do something like that? Work a shitload of hours for pennies. Break your fucking back and put stress on your heart. A workingman’s life ain’t no picnic, Henry.”
But being a Hebert was. Right. “I told you I was straight now,” Hank said, trying to keep his voice strong and steady. “I meant it. I’ll work all the hours in the world if it means I’m not looking over my shoulder for cops all the time. That’s stress on your heart.”
Rico shot him an amused look. “It’s stressful if you’re a *, but then I guess that’s where this conversation is over, right?” He laughed at his own incredible humor. “So what about the job I asked you to do with the magic lady?”
Hank felt sweat begin to form on his brow. “I already told you no, and the answer’s still no. Get someone else.”
“But no one else knows the broad.”
“Hell, I don’t know her, either! I’ve only seen her a time or two and that was at a distance.”
“Hmmmmm. That’s a shame. Sonny was really hoping you’d have the inside track on her. Sonny’s real interested in knowing what she’s up to. And you know how Sonny can be when he’s really interested.”
“She’s my ex-wife’s friend, not mine. And in case you’ve forgotten, I haven’t lived anywhere near Maryse in over two years. I don’t even know what she’s up to, much less her friends.”
Rico nodded. “Yeah, I guess I can see that. But you see, Sonny’s real interested, and you know how he can be. So what do you say you do a little asking around, maybe to that pretty little ex-wife of yours, and find out what the magic lady is up to.”
“And if I don’t?”
“It wouldn’t be that hard to put some drugs in your toolbox, make a call to that new boss of yours. Or maybe in your truck. Maybe even somewhere on the job site. Hard to know what I might come up with. I’m a creative motherfucker when I want to be.”
Hank felt despair wash over him. He knew Rico was capable of everything he’d just threatened to do and much, much more. “I’ll make a phone call, but I’m not promising anything. My ex may not know the woman’s personal business.”
“Let’s just hope for your sake, she does.” Rico opened the door and stepped out of the truck, then leaned back in the passenger-side window. “I’ll be here tomorrow to see what you found out. And every day after that until Sonny’s satisfied. Understand?”
Hank clenched his teeth and nodded. The last thing he needed was Rico Hebert at his job site every day. Chuck would immediately know that something was up, and it wouldn’t take much to find out who Rico was and what business he was in.
He was royally fucked.