The Amateurs by Marcus Sakey Read Free Book Online

straightened in the chair, positioning his body to hide something behind him.
    Alex fought the urge to point out that this was more often his office than Johnny’s, that he and the restaurant managers used it day in, day out, instead of the occasional drop-by. Instead, he said, “Sorry, Mr. Loverin. My mistake.”
    Johnny turned back around and did something with his hands. Alex couldn’t see what he was doing, but heard a creak, and then a dull metal clank. Johnny was putting something in the safe. Alex waited, rocking from one foot to the other, until his boss swiveled back around and slowly raised one foot and then the other to set them on top of the desk. Said nothing. Marking his territory as clear as if he’d pissed on the desk.
    Alex repeated, “You wanted to see me?”
    Johnny stared. It was a look that Alex supposed had once been scary, back in the days when the guy was actually a player, carried a gun. He said, “How’d you like to earn a little extra money?”
    “Doing what?”
    “Simple thing. I’ve got a meeting this Tuesday night, I’d like you to join.”
    “What kind of meeting?”
    “What do you care?”
    “I just mean, what’s this about?” There had been talk that Johnny was buying into another restaurant. If it was true, he might be looking for somebody to manage the place. The step up in salary might make the difference Alex needed.
    “What it is, what you need to know, it’s just a little side deal I’ve got going on. A guy I know who likes to pretend he’s tough. I want you to stand around, wear a shirt shows off those muscles.”
    “You want me to be a bodyguard?”
    “Nothing like that. It’s a, what do you call it, a pageant. You’re there to make things look a certain way. You’re set dressing.” Johnny nodded at that, pleased with the description.
    “Set dressing.”
    “Yeah. You stand with your arms folded. Don’t say anything. Just look mean.”
    “Umm.” Alex hesitated. “I’m not sure—”
    “Two hundred bucks. Should only take ten minutes or so.”
    Alarm bells started chiming in Alex’s head. A meeting in the back office, him pretending to be muscle? He remembered the things he’d told the others, Italians coming in with briefcases and leaving empty-handed. Whatever this was, it wasn’t about a new restaurant. “You know, Mr. Loverin, that’s not really what I’m about.”
    “What do you mean, it’s not what you’re about?”
    “I mean, whatever this is—I just—well, I’m really not into that kind of thing.”
    Johnny took his feet from the desk, sat up straight. “What kind of thing?” His voice thin and his eyes narrow.
    Shit. “That came out wrong. I just mean, if it’s OK with you, I’d as soon stick to my regular job.”
    “Your regular job.”
    “Yeah.”
    “You work for me, right? So your regular job, it’s doing what I tell you, isn’t it?”
    All right. First Trish, now this. Enough. “When some drunk gets rough in the bar, I handle it. But this is something else. I’ve been here a while, and I’ve heard some things, and whatever this is, I don’t want any part of it.”
    For a long moment, Johnny said nothing. Then he ran his tongue slowly over his lips. “That’s a pretty big speech, kid.”
    “I don’t mean any disrespect.”
    “A pretty big fucking speech indeed, coming from an assistant fucking manager. You’ve heard some things? Good for fucking you.” He cracked his thumbs. “There’s a recession, you know that? Every day I get people in here looking for work. Plenty of people who could do your job. You ever think of that?”
    “Mr. Loverin—”
    “You had your say. Now it’s my turn. You do this very simple thing I’m asking or you find yourself another job. But you better not even try to tell people you worked here. Because when they call—and they will—I’ll tell them that I fired you for stealing from the register. I’ll tell them you’re an ungrateful little punk been ripping me off for