James POV
"Who the fuck do you think you are? I'm the king in this kind of business we run!" I heard the psychopathic laughter of a 53-year-old chubby man as he stared at me maniacally. I could only smirk at his stupidity. Mr. Roger spent his whole life in the drug business, but that does not make him the king.
I sat there at gunpoint in a dark room. Was I afraid? Hell no! I see these things almost every day. No gun or man could scare me.
"This is supposed to be a fair deal, old man; haven't you heard of the saying, 'never bring a gun to a sword fight'?" As foolish as he may be, he got closer, giving me an open chance to disarm him.
"You little-" I grabbed onto his arm and twisted it until he dropped the gun. His men tried to attack, but my men already surrounded them.
"The tables have turned." I stood up and strode around him.
"I wanted to sell the cocaine to you at such a small price, and you dared to get upset, but now... now I've decided to double the price." I stood behind him and brought out my gun from the back of my pants in a swift motion.
"Tell one of your useless men to get the money, or I would have to redesign these walls with your blood."
"You heard him! One of you should get the money!" he yelled.
"I'll be waiting for my money at Club 69. If it's not brought to me before 9... Warehouse at Singapore goes boom!" I answered him coldly.
"What do you mean?" he finally turned and looked me in the eye. I could see him trembling, his face filled with sweat.
"I knew you were not the type to stick with deals, so just in case... I sent some of my men to Singapore. They have implanted a bomb in your warehouse in Singapore."
"But how did-"
"Just like you Roger, I have spies. You foolishly put your whole supply of coke in that factory because your enemy Brian can't go to Singapore, He's wanted there." A smirk appeared on my lips as he realized how foolish this old man had been, and he actually thought of going against me. James Salvatore; the crazed high-end drug lord. That was a big mistake.
"The money will be brought," he promised.
"But just in case..." I moved to his pocket and took out his phone and dropped it on the far end floor. My men did the same with his men's phones, then they all shot at each and every phone there.
I left the rest for my men to handle and went to the club. As usual, I sat at my favorite side of the club smoking a blunt and enjoying the sound of the loud music. I took a sip of the whiskey in front of me while looking outside the window and into the far distance, using the opportunity to let my thoughts wander.
I heard footsteps coming closer and instantly knew it was my men. I turned to see them coming with one of Mr. Roger's men, and he brought with him a black suitcase.
"Boss, we're here." The person who referred to me as boss was my spy on Mr. Roger's team. He dropped the suitcase he held on the table and, after ensuring no prying eyes were within the vicinity, opened the case to reveal a lot of cash
"Good job. Here's 5 grand, well done.
"Thanks, boss.
"You can take your leave now." I said to him coldly. The rest of my men stayed behind, and I called one of them.
"Yes, boss?"
"Kill him," I said coldly. I wasn't a fan of people who betray their boss for some cash; I prefer to end them.
I turned around again only to see a girl being harassed by some men.
"Who's she?"
"She's a new bartender."
"What happened to the old one?"
"She had some debt to pay and didn't pay it in due time.
"Oh." I didn't care about that. It was a regular occurrence in this line of work.
I couldn't see her face as she had her back facing me. "What's her background story?" I asked Michael, one of my trusted men.
"Nothing interesting, just a regular average family in the city," he replied.
"Ok," I said blankly and continued smoking my blunt.
"Sir, she is so beautiful. A lot of people came here today all because of her," Leon explained.
"She's beautiful, huh?" I replied, both of them with sarcasm etched in my voice.
I looked at the girl one more time, and my jaw dropped to the ground.
"How is this possible?" I asked no one in particular.
"What happened, boss?" one of my men asked.
"She's Melissa!" I exclaimed. Melissa Salvatore was my wife and first love, the woman whom I had gone down on my knees and proposed to. Five years ago, she had left the country for her personal vacation, and I let her go out of love I had for her. She came back, and on her way to the mansion, she was pushed over a bridge. After trying to get hold of her for a long time, I called a safe party. Her phone had been found close to the edge of the bridge.
Her body was eventually found, and I saw a note in her breast pocket and picked it up. It had the words "GAME ON" written boldly on it. Behind it was the picture of a skull atop cocaine, with smoke coming out of its eyes.
It was the emblem of Bethel's gang. I felt broken and in pain. I indirectly caused her death, and that knowledge made me go crazy with guilt. But now, seeing her here as a barmaid, I knew in the back of my mind that she most definitely wasn't my Melissa.