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The Oligarch (Robert Martin Book 1) Page 2
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“Hey!” she cried out, “are you okay?”
I sat up and asked for a glass water. She brought it over and I gulped it down.
“I’ll be alright. I just need to gather my thoughts.”
“You want me to get you anything else?”
“It’s too early in the day for me to feel good. I get this way in the mornings.”
“Morning? It’s almost midnight.”
Midnight? I looked out the window and saw nothing but black skies.
“But… Breakfast, why did you serve me breakfast in the middle of the night?”
“Breakfast was in the morning. You’ve been sleeping for hours.”
I stood up and pushed her away. The fog in my head remained. What was happening to me? Maybe a cold shower would help? I stumbled into the bathroom and turned on the faucet. I could feel her presence behind me as I undressed. She was watching me. I didn’t care. I stripped down and jumped into the tub. The water crashed against my face. It was a good feeling.
“I’ll make you some tea.”
She was still in the bathroom, standing watching me. Who was this girl?
“Don’t you have any manners? I’m naked. I don’t want any damn tea!”
“I don’t want you passing out in the shower.”
“I’ll be fine. Just go into the kitchen. Under the sink you’ll find a bottle of whiskey, pour me a glass. You can have one too. I’ll be out soon.”
Whiskey should do the trick. No other remedy could possible help.
I was under the shower for a while. I felt the girl come in and out of the bathroom to check on me. Each time she did, I gave her a thumbs up. I kept my head directly under until the pain was gone. Then I turned off the faucet and stepped out. It was a good feeling. I almost felt normal. But I knew how this would play out. A tiny bit of ecstasy followed up with an extreme low. I needed my whiskey.
3.
“Talk.”
The whiskey gave me clarity. The girl still lingered around and refused to leave. I told her I was alright now, but she cared enough to stay the night. Desperate girl. The only thing she told me about herself was her name.
“Kristine,” I said.
“Yes.”
“You’re not sleeping.”
“I don’t sleep much.”
“Have a drink with me.”
“I don’t drink.”
I continued drinking the whiskey. With each glass my mind became as clear as daylight. It was a good feeling. No more headaches, no more drowsiness, no more forgetfulness. Then I remembered there was something I had to do. Charlie, I needed to call Charlie. My iPhone sat on the kitchen counter along with my keys and wallet. The battery was completely drained. I plugged it to charge then walked over to the window and looked out into the pitch-black night. I was on the second floor of an old apartment building in Glendale. My getaway apartment. No one knew about this place except Murat.
“Are you from around here?” I asked her.
“No, Indiana,” she said.
“And you helped me?”
“Yes.”
“From in front of the coffee shop. I remember now. The whiskey, it helps me remember a lot of things. Those coffee shop geeks sure hated me.”
I sat next to her on the couch.
“You were loud,” she said.
I gave her a smile and leaned forward. She leaned back and held out her hands, nearly pushing me away. She must not know the real Robert Martin.
For the rest of the night she sat mostly in silence; I did most of the talking. The drink makes me talk a lot. She said almost nothing except for “yes”, “no”, “maybe”, “okay.” The girl had a limited vocabulary. Either that or she was afraid of me. But I didn’t care much about her feelings. Part of me wanted to care.
Then Charlie called. The iPhone notified me by vibrating on the kitchen counter. I picked up the phone.
“Robert! Where have you been? Everyone’s looking for you.”
“I know. I wasn’t feeling so good Charlie.”
“Come on Robert, I trusted you. I vouched for you.”
“I know.”
“How’s it going to look now? It was a simple task and we failed, you failed.”
“I know.”
“Where are you?”
“Glendale.”
“We need to fix this. Meet me at Denny’s on San Fernando.”
I hung up the phone and told Kristine that I had to leave. She nodded her head in approval. She said nothing else and I hoped she’d be gone by the time I returned from my meeting with Charlie.
I stepped out of the apartment and onto Jackson Street. It was a hot and humid night. The kind of heat that made me want to quit smoking. I had no idea where my car was. It was probably parked somewhere in Pasadena, and it wasn’t a good idea to drive anyway. The liquor was starting to kick in. I took out my phone and with a few clicks ordered a car service. The restaurant was a short Uber drive away. An old man with a white beard picked me up in a black sedan. He nodded as I sat in the front seat. We exchanged no words. The man started driving. I looked at my watch, the time read 3:00 am. The streets were desolate, except for the occasional car that went by.
Once I arrived at the restaurant I stepped out of the car. The old man with the white beard drove away. I was left alone in an empty parking lot. A large, brightly lit Denny’s sign greeted me. The restaurant was open twenty-four hours. A large neon sign, near the entrance door, made sure to notify anyone passing by. Inside I found a single waitress. She seemed surprised to see me enter at this late hour, but she still managed to greet me as I stepped in.
“Hello,” she said, “you can sit anywhere.”
I took a corner booth. The place was empty except for a few teenagers on the other side of the restaurant. They made a lot of noise and called the waitress over constantly for more soda. When she was done with them, the waitress walked over to me.
“Are we ready?” she asked?”
“Coffee.”
She brought over coffee and placed it directly in front of me. I looked down at the white porcelain cup. The cup then morphed horizontally and the edges curved up. The cup was smiling at me. I blinked several times to make it stop.
Not again.
“Drink up buddy, you’re going to need it. Charlie will be here soon and he’s awfully mad.” said the smiling cup, “what’s a matter, you don’t look so good Bobby. Just take a sip, it’ll all be alright. A little caffeine will get your juices flowing.”
“Don’t call me Bobby. My name is…”
“Yeah, I know you’re Robert Martin. Everyone knows you around here. Now drink up buddy.”
I listened to the cup and gulped down the hot coffee.
“Are you ready to order some food?” asked the waitress.
“No, thank you. I’m meeting someone here.”
“More coffee?”
“No, please take the cup. I don’t want anymore.”
She took the cup and walked away towards the kitchen.
“Hey, we were in the middle of a conversation!” cried out the cup, “Buddy, is this how you treat your friends?”
I held my head down and waited for Charlie. I needed a drink, but not now. Not until I talked to Charlie.
A short time later, Charlie walked into the restaurant. Once he located me, he hurried over and sat across from me. He was wearing a blue Hawaiian shirt and grey shorts and flip-flops. He must have rushed straight over from his house. He looked into my eyes and waited for me to talk. I looked back and said nothing. My eyes wandered around his face, from his small hazel eyes to his eagle nose. His hairline was fading in the front. His eyes remained locked into mine without a single blink.
I refused to talk. Let him talk. I’m Robert Martin. I’m the one whose services he needs. I don’t need him. I could work for anyone. I don’t need him. Let him talk. Let this balding prick talk!
“Where have you been?” he finally blurted out.
Before I could reply, the wa
itress came over and asked Charlie if he needed anything.
“No!” said Charlie to the waitress.
The waitress walked away and Charlie turned his attention to me.
“Maybe I’m not the man for this job. Ask one of the other boys. Ask Big Eddie, or Rafielyan. I can’t do it Charlie, I’m sorry. I have too much going on right now.”
I nearly broke down crying. Keep your composure, Robert Martin.
“You’ll have to find a way to do what you need to do. No one else is covering for you. You took on a task and you need to complete the assignment. You can do this Robert Martin. You’re a man of honor, and men of honor don’t break deals. Think of the boys, Big Eddie, Rafielyan, let’s say I do go up to them and ask them to do Robert Martin’s job. How would that look? Robert Martin never backs down from a challenge.”
“The timing couldn’t be worse for me Charlie. I…”
“I’ve seen you do a lot of crazy shit,” he cut me off, “now you can’t do an agreed upon simple task?”
“It’s not that simple Charlie.”
“It’s simple. You know it is. How many have you done? How many?”
Charlie waited for me to respond. I said nothing. I needed a drink.
“I need a response Robert.”
“Too many,” I mumbled.
“Hey! This isn’t the time. Pull yourself together. Can we count on you? Because if we can’t, you know what will happen. We are friends, but this must be done and friendship can’t stand in the way of it. Think of your wife and kids, think of your brother. This will be all the better for them. Think of the rank you’ll shoot up to. No one will mess with you. Money, better jobs, no more scraps. We need you Robert. But if you can’t, then there is no coming back from this. You’ll be out. No one will trust you and everyone will know the name Robert Martin, for a different reason.”
I said nothing.
“Don’t you live a comfortable life Robert? Don’t your kids have a good life? Don’t you love your wife? You do this for them. You’ll do this so they don’t worry about where the next meal is coming from. Are you listening to me Robert?”
I nodded.
“Good. Pull yourself together. And stop with the bourbon. You drink too much.”
“I hate bourbon.”
“So have a beer.”
I sat back in my chair and took a deep breath and exhaled. The task or assignment, which I had agreed to perform for Charlie, was supposed to be handled over a week ago. But I flinched, I got scared and walked away. But there was no walking away from these people. Not if I still wanted to keep my family. They were dirty, disgusting, thieves, and murderers. And I was one of them.
“Robert!” screamed out Charlie and banged his fist on the table, “ARE YOU WITH US!?”
4.
Charlie offered me a ride back home to my wife and kids, but I told him to take me to Pasadena to retrieve my car. He had no idea about the apartment. And I wanted to keep it that way. Besides, when I’m on a job, family life goes on hiatus. The wife understands this, the kids not so much.
We drove up the one thirty-four and exited Central Boulevard. Suddenly my mind was clear as daylight. I could see everything, and I remembered everything. The bar, the bastards that kicked me out, the girl, and where my car was parked. I even had enough time to plan out my assignment. Gun, aim, pull trigger.
Not much was spoken between Charlie and I, except for the directions I gave him. It was a dark night, with the moon barely visible. My blue four-door sedan sat inside a parking structure. Charlie pulled up next to it and held his head low. We both avoided eye contact. It wasn’t because we feared each other or were annoyed by the other’s presence, we both just knew what eye contact would mean. I thanked Charlie and stepped out. I held my head low and waited for him to leave before darting for my car. Charlie drove away without saying goodbye. This was my last chance.
The best thing to do now was reboot back at the apartment. Inside the car I found my hand gun in the glove compartment and a pair of gloves. I carefully examined the gloves. They reminded me of a certain football star. An old job I had to carry out. One of my first ones. Charlie called it a masterpiece.
Who cares about old jobs from twenty years ago.
I had less than seventy-two hours to complete my current assignment.
For the first time in two nights, I was alone and able to think and rationalize. I began to sense some fear in Charlie. The fear was in his eyes, and he was just as scared of the situation as I was. If I didn’t complete my assignment, they’d come after me. After they were done with me, Charlie would be next and he knew it. I eased into my chair and took out a smoke.
“Time to get a hold of yourself Robert,” I said to myself, “you’re Robert Martin. Everyone knows your name. No one can punk me around. I have respect and honor.”
Respect and honor, two words I couldn’t get enough of. I was lying to myself each time I said it. I was no more honorable then a rat in a sewer. I had some respect, but that was fear. So, I was a feared rat. A nobody out to do a nobody’s work.
Back inside the apartment, I found Kristina sleeping on the couch. I had hoped she would be gone by now. How could I possibly complete anything with her around? I grabbed my gun and pointed it against her forehead. She was so young and stupid. She had no idea where she was. A guy like me didn’t deserve help from a girl like her. And a guy like me had no idea how to kill a girl like her. I put the gun away inside one of the kitchen drawers and walked back over to her. I leaned over her. My lips nearly touched hers. I could feel her breath against the side of my cheek. How traumatic would it be to kill a creature like her? How they would all feel so sorry for her, once her face was plastered over the newspapers and Internet. They’d leave comments about me – killer, coward, how could he, disgusting. Then the next day, they’d all forget about her and move on.
I picked her up in my arms, she was so light. I guessed her to be barely 120 lb. I took her into the bedroom and tucked her in. Then I stepped away and went back into the living room and grabbed a glass of whiskey.
I imagined my wife in the room with me. “Hey hubby,” she would say, if she were here, “look out the window. See the sunrise? You should start appreciating things like this,” I wonder what she would say about Kristine.
“Hey buddy!” the glass of whiskey whispered, “did you miss me?”
I gulped the contents of the glass down to make it shut up. It seemed to only talk when full. It did the trick; the glass stopped speaking. Then I flung it against the wall; it shattered into pieces. I couldn’t risk the voices again. I tried to sleep but had trouble keeping my eyes closed. So, I stayed up and watched the sunrise. As the sun came up over the San Fernando mountains, I wondered about my kids. At the bottom of those mountains stood my three-bedroom house. It was a good house with a lot of money put into it. I thought about my wife and how she coped with me and my antics. It was work, she knew it. But why did she put up with it? Who wants a husband who’s never home? She probably cheats on me; I wouldn’t blame her if she did.
“You’re home.”
I turned to find Kristina standing behind me.
“I’ll make us some breakfast.”
“No, don’t. I’m not hungry.”
“I’ll make it anyway. You can eat if you want.”
“Stop! I said I don’t want any breakfast!”
I wanted to apologize for shouting, but I needed her to get the point. I needed her to leave.
“I’m sorry. My mom raised me to be a servant girl,” she smiled, “I just like to give and give. A well-fed man is a good man, that was her motto.”
“What century are you from, girl? No one talks like that anymore. Especially not your generation. I need to think. I have work to do.”
I sat on the couch and closed my eyes. Kristine made herself breakfast and made an extra plate for me. I couldn’t resist the smell and stood up to have a look at what she had made. Suddenly, I felt hunger making its way to my stomach.
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“Please, eat,” she said.
I sat and ate with my hands, she did the same.
“I feel like a cave woman.”
We both laughed.
“You look much better,” she said, “your color is back. You should relax a bit more and then later we can go for a walk in the park. It’s always good to get fresh air.”
We finished, then she cleaned up the table and poured me a cup of coffee. I lounged around the apartment thinking about my assignment. I had no solution as to how it would be carried out. I was beginning to second-guess myself again. Kill with a gun? Too messy. Poison? An accident? How does one carry out an accident? Beat the shit out of him with a baseball bat? Too much work, too much evidence.
I really hated Charlie for putting me through this. Who was I? I was a nobody. There were a bunch of other guys more qualified than me. But my dear friend Charlie called me and offered the world if I did this one thing for him and his friends. Why? Promotion? Rank? Who says they won’t just kill me once I’m done with the assignment?
Too much thinking! It gave me a headache, and the sharp pains in my eyeballs returned. I stepped into the bedroom and fell onto the bed and closed my eyes. It did little to stop the pain.
“Relax.”
White clouds appeared in my mind. I knew nothing, and I knew everything. I was inside my apartment and I was not. I was somewhere out there but still here. I’m afraid. I can’t do this.
I heard Kristine’s voice.
“Relax. This will make you feel a lot better.”
She was somewhere in the room. Near the bed? I couldn’t tell. Then I felt her warm, soft hands. She rubbed my shoulders and neck. Her touch made the pain subside. I wanted to speak, my mouth would not move. I’m so scared.
“Relax. Sleep.”
5.
“Hey buddy. I finally figured it out. Use your hands and strangle him to death. It’s the only way; it’ll be clean and easy. The guy is old and can’t put up much of a fight. The only problem you’ll face is the bodyguards, a couple of heavies. But they don’t operate very well at night. They’ll be tired. You can sneak through the back door and up the stairs and into the bedroom where he sleeps.