Bagman: Street King
Kim sneered at me as we climbed the stairs. We’ve never really got along. He’s about my age, but awkward with his mixed blood. Jarvis got him off of one of his whores, a Chinese lady whose name I never learned. She’s dead anyway.
“How’ve you been, Benito?” He asked from behind me. I could feel his attention on my back, could almost hear his hand caressing his blade. “Haven’t seen you around in a while.”
“I’ve been here and there, man. You know, out where people with dicks do real biz rather than hangin’ onto their daddy’s dreams.”
He didn’t answer, but I felt his simmering anger and grinned as I pushed the double oak doors open and walked into Jarvis’ study. Kim shut the doors behind me.
“Benny!” Jarvis stood from his chair and walked forward. I tensed, but he only clapped me on the shoulders. Jarvis is a professional study on the phrase “gruesomely ugly.” His face looked as though he’d been attacked by a cheese-grater and he escaped by climbing an ugly tree.
“How’s biz, Jarvis?” I asked him.