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his mouth and patted his giant friend
on his shoulder. It was as solid as a cinderblock.
    “I’m going out
for a smoke. Pay the bill and meet me outside. We don’t want to
keep Marko waiting any longer.”

    ****

    Tyler and
Khaled arrived at the Family-run bar while it was still
mid-morning. It was a legitimate establishment with genuine
clientele, and though it wasn’t a place where yuppies flocked for
expensive cocktails after work, it was far from being a dive as
well. The dozen pool tables scattered at the front end helped give
the place a veneer of normalcy to anyone peering through the
windows on any given night. They also helped divert attention from
the dangerous-looking men who lounged in the booths tucked away in
the far back, just beside the kitchen.
    In one of these
booths lurked the man Tyler had promised to kill.
    Tyler and
Khaled stood still and attentive once they entered the bar. They
had to be summoned when he was ready to receive them. No
exceptions.
    They were
quickly noticed by two associates shooting pool a few tables away
from the front door. The lanky blond one scurried out to the booths
way out in the back, while the portly black one lurched over to
keep watch over Tyler and Khaled.
    The big black
man stood in front of both of them like a massive boulder, almost
surpassing Khaled in sheer mass alone. He did not move nor divert
his glare at the two men in front of him. He was an immovable
object acting as sentry until instructed to do otherwise. Though
both Tyler and Khaled were high-ranking in the Family, the rule
stayed the same: you only saw Boreta when permitted.
    A few minutes
passed by before the lanky blond returned, his posture erect and
dignified as he walked over to approach them.
    “He will see
you now, Tyler. Follow me, please.”
    Dutifully, both
Tyler and Khaled stepped forward to follow the lanky blond man. The
giant man put his hand on Khaled’s chest and obstructed him from
following Tyler.
    “Mr. Boreta
said he will see Tyler now, not you.”
    Khaled was
annoyed but complied and made his way toward the nearest barstool
behind him. Tyler decided to give him a parting shot before going
any further.
    “Hey Khaled, if
any spic bitches with big tits and fat asses walk in here while I’m
gone, make sure they’re not taken already before you try to pick
them up. I don’t want to see you get stabbed by some wetback
because you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.”
    Khaled muttered
something in Arabic before knocking back his first beer of the
morning, not bothering to look at Tyler when he heard that comment.
This was something he’d have to get used to for a while.
    Tyler followed
the lanky blonde man from two steps behind as he marched towards
the booth. Neither said a word. Aside from the faint clacking of
cue balls overheard from the front end and the muffled sounds
emanating from the nearby kitchen, this part of the bar was deathly
quiet. This was the place for private meetings for only a select
few Family members.
    Marko Boreta’s
presence could already be felt from here. It was a feeling of
danger that lingered in the air, as if it whispered a warning to
those who dared to move onwards. Marko Boreta was a man whose mere
reputation preceded him so strongly that it was a deterrent in and
of itself. Even Tyler could not escape the feeling of dread that
made every further step feel slightly heavier than the last. For
years Tyler had been his star protégé, but the fear had never left
him. When your mentor keeps his enemies as close as he does his
friends and confidants, you can never be too sure of which side he
sees you standing on. Many fools had thought wrongly over the years
and paid dearly for it.
    Once they
arrived at the booth, the gangly blond escort walked away without
uttering a word. In front of Tyler sat the dragon himself; a stout
man in his fifties, solidly built for his age and strong enough to
do his own dirty work. His well-tailored suit was no doubt a