Both Jackson and I knew that wasn't true. I wasn’t snobby or all that fussed about keeping evidence of the violence I initiated off of my clothing, and Jackson was well aware of that. He was, as always, playing a game. Toying with us. Toying with his own guys, even. I often wondered if Jackson Randolph didn’t even want to be a successful kingpin, and instead if he simply just liked to entertain himself with all the trouble he caused.
“After all, showing up bloody to the hospital when your wife’s about to give birth doesn’t paint a very pretty picture,” continued Jackson. “And the Varassos always like to keep up appearances.”
“Hey,” said Gabriel quietly behind me, just loud enough for me to hear and to remember to stay calm. I didn’t want to know how Jackson knew that Alana was in labor and managed to brush off the comment. Still, I didn’t like that Jackson even knew that Alana existed, let alone that I had a child on the way.
My first instinct was to reply with She’s not my wife, actually. My second instinct was to say, How about you mind your fucking business, asswipe? My third instinct, thankfully, was to raise my eyebrows in faux confusion and act as if Jackson hadn’t just said the one thing that, had I been a less mature and emotionally stable man, would have caused me to lose my shit right then and there.
“Jackson, let’s just stop mincing words,” I sighed heavily. “I’m a busy man, and I’m sure you are, too. How about you give us our stuff back and maybe give us a little apology for fucking up one of our best runners? And then we can all be on our merry way.”
Jackson frowned. He could tell I was mocking him. Everyone knew he was hardly a busy man, given barely any responsibility from his Uncle, the patriarch of the Randolphs. Still, it was him and his two untrained, clumsy guys against three Varasso brothers, the sons of Angelo Varasso himself. One very trashy orange Camaro versus a large, bulletproof Escalade. We were unmatched, unstoppable.
Just then, an old red pickup truck pulled into the alleyway. I recognized it immediately and chuckled to myself.
I nodded once in Jackson’s direction. “You really chose the wrong deal to weasel your way into. Chai’s been a client since 1983.”
A flicker of unease crossed his eyes and I felt a deep sense of satisfaction at that alone. Together, the six of us watched as Chai heaved his creaking, fragile body out of the pickup and hopped down onto the cracked, dirty pavement. He took one look at the situation in front him, his favorite Varassos versus a handful of pathetic wannabe gangsters and snorted to himself.
“What’s going on here, boys?” asked Chai, big white beard muffling his gravelly voice slightly. “Hey, Luca. Gabe.”
Gabriel and I nodded once at him in greeting.
“Randolphs got it in their head to play a little prank,” Gabriel called out to Chai. “They’ve got your stuff in the Camaro.”
Chai’s eyes turned ice cold as they landed on the squirming form of Jackson Randolph. He scoffed. “Not this slimy fool again.”
Jackson straightened up and squared his shoulders to Chai, but the old man wasn’t buying the tough guy act.
“Listen to me right now, son,” growled Chai. “I recommend you hand over my order or you and your pathetic cronies will never do business in this part of town again. Not that you were really doing business here in the first place.”
A tense minute of silence followed, but Jackson seemed to realize that this wasn’t a guy to cross. After all, Chai carried around the same energy as Angelo Varasso; they weren't to be fucked around with. They weren’t also the kind of men you ever said no to.
With an unintelligible grumble, Jackson nodded his head at the guy on his right, who immediately jumped into action and moved around to the back of the Camaro. I watched with growing anger, but also with a sense of satisfaction. Mostly anger, because I wouldn’t have had to come all the way over here and abandon the love of my life if the stupid Randolphs hadn’t gone and stolen Ramon’s stuff in the first place. Still, watching Jackson’s stupid plan be foiled right in front of his eyes did help me feel a little bit better about the situation.
Gabriel and I stood by, knowing this wasn’t over, as Jackson’s unnamed crony opened up the trunk of the car and heaved out a large black duffel bag. Chai hovered at his shoulder and immediately snatched the bag from him.
“Cheers,” he growled. “Don’t let this happen again.”
We all watched in silence as Chai stomped his way back to the old red truck he’d been driving around for decades. He tossed the duffel bag into the passenger side and then climbed back up into his seat. Jackson turned to watch the formidable, practically ancient dealer lean halfway out the window of the driver’s side.
“Hey, kid,” shouted Chai. I lifted my chin in his direction. He’d meant me. “Tell your dad I’ll be happy to offer my… pest control services. Anytime.”
A short exhale beside me was the only proof of Gabriel’s desire to laugh. I shot Chai a smirk and raised my hand in farewell.
“I’ll let him know!” I called.
And with that, the great roaring pickup pulled out of the alley and disappeared down the next street. I raised a single eyebrow at Jackson, who looked visibly uncomfortable. It was obvious what Chai had meant about pest control.
Angelo Varasso had wanted to methodically murder the Randolphs for as long as I could remember. Chai had enough of his own loyal followers who would be willing to help. Nobody liked a slimy wannabe who steals other people’s coke, after all. Together, the Varasso and Chai’s men could make pretty quick work of the entire family. With that large of a number, we could even do it carefully enough so as not to draw any attention from the police or the media.
Not that the cops would care much about the extinction of another fumbling, silly gang on the streets of Philadelphia. As long as father kept lining their pockets and making his generous donations to the city, the police stayed out of our business. After all, the Varassos weren’t just the most powerful organized criminals out here; we were also the cleanest. We had the lowest rates of addiction, inside deaths, and petty crime. Angelo had always made it very clear that he didn’t tolerate foolish, attention-grabbing behavior like that in his family or his employees.
We were professionals. Jackson was, plain and simple, an amateur.
“Well,” I sighed, clapping my hands together once. “That was fun. You’ve managed to piss off a lot of people tonight, Jackson.”
Jackson’s mouth twisted into a snarl and he narrowed his eyes at me.
“King’s fall, boy,” he hissed. “Your family won’t be the strongest forever. Inevitably, someone will rise up and take you down. I look forward to that day.”