#like i turned off the ac today to save money and bam ac back on

[logisticalgrandaddy]

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[thugwthahardon-blog]

#NewOrleans #SoA #IRP - I was born and raised in Charming, but moved away to New Orleans with my mom when she got a new job through a distant uncle of mine. Ever since then New Orleans was my home, even if I still longed for the day when I could go back home to Charming. My mother a single mom, who had ever since I could remembered worked two jobs to be able to care for me in the best possible way and for us to have that little extra. It was always honest work and even though she couldn’t always be present in person she made sure I knew that even though she wasn’t there she would find out if I hadn’t been a ‘Good boy’. It made me chuckle knowing that I would be using the term ‘Good Boy’ myself but in a very different purpose than that she did then. My mother was a tough cookie, trust me when I say hell would break lose if I as much as sniffed in the direction of the wrong crowds. My mother always seemed to know if I done something that I wasn’t suppose to do and she always had my hide for doing it too. I love my mom as much then as I do now, and I know she loves me back, even if I at the age of 28 my life hasn’t gone quite as straight to the top as she would have liked and I wasn’t quite the Good boy she’d hoped for.

My mum was always loving but you didn’t mess around with her when she was pissed, not as a kid or a 28 year old man. I grew up in an ok neighborhood, but it was not ok enough that my mother could protect me from all the dangers of the slum. When I became a rebellious teenager even I had found my ways of escaping her radar and I would spend my nights on the streets of New Orleans being up to no good. My largest advantage against bullies, cops and other gang related personas had always been my intelligence. I had an IQ of 151 and I never had to study to ace a test or finish high school with honors. That was also my downfall, because being the rebellious teenager I was, like most of them I needed to be entertained and entertaining a kid with an IQ of 151 wasn’t done in a turn of a hand. The high I needed to sate my highly active brain caused me to encumber my soul in debt to one of the most dangerous bosses in New Orleans, Vincent Taylor.

There really just were two major Bosses at the time alt least that were worth mentioning One was my boss Vincent Taylor or Vic as he was mostly known as. The other guy was after 20 years was still as nameless as he was faceless, no one knew him personally. His second in command was this guy named Alden and that was the only guy any of us ever saw or dealt with. Alden wasn’t from around here, his bronzed skin and accent, even if he hid it well, told that he from out west. I was pretty sure it was somewhere in Cali. My job would be to find out where. Everyone knew who Alden was and many men had tried to find out who his boss was but failed. That fact that no one knew who this Ghost was had always pissed Vic off beyond belief, he was used to getting his way and that money could buy anything or anyone, and every time the subject came up it got a raise out of him. Vic could go on and on forever about needing to know and I don’t know how many meaningless road trips that man sent me on to try to find out who the Ghost was, but the man was good, real good, at hiding his tracks. Like I said I am not your average Joe, I know how to hack into systems and what to look for when searching for people; but I had found nothing not a single trace. It was like the guy didn’t exist, and maybe that was the thing, that he didn’t. So instead of finding out who this guy was Vic did everything he could to lure him out into the open like stealing as many of his people as he could, especially his escorts and other golden girls and boys.

What Vic don’t know is that on one of those road trips about eight years ago in a casino in Vegas, around the same time I turned 21, I was approached by a single man who was pretty as a day, and looked innocent like a virgin on prom night. Instead of wasting time chasing this ghost again I let my libido rule and I spent my time there with him, this pretty boy. We never left his penthouse room at the Bellagio instead we spent three days fucking each others brains out. On the third day I woke up with him gone with the house cleaning manager banging at the door that it was way past check out time. On my clothes lay a note from my mystery lover who I only knew by his first name, Nick, that I knew was as fake as anything else he told me. Not that we been talking up a storm, why talk when you could fuck. Anyway the note on my jeans almost went disposed without me looking at it, but as it fluttered to the floor I saw my name scribbled on it with neat texting so I had picked it up. On it it said ‘It’s nice to know that at least one of the men who are looking for me can fuck like a god. I had a good time. Really I did.’ he signed the note with the ghost. Can I tell you that at that very moment the air left my lungs, I had fallen back onto the bed with my pants half way up my legs and as the house cleaning ladies came into the bedroom very demonstrative make a point for me to leave I just sat there and let them yell at me in Spanish. Obviously I went back home and didn’t breathe a word to anyone about who I fucked and especially that I managed to let him slip through my fingers.  

These days I was far from the good little boy my mama raised, I don’t even think any part of him existed anymore. I did a lot of shit for Vic, somethings I really didn’t want to do or feel proud off. I had only really killed three people over my ten years with him, and that was three too many. A few years in I had earned enough respect from Vic that I could tell him to find someone else to handle it and most often someone else did. Now he sent Jerry, some low life, dumb ass butcher who liked torturing people and that could in worse case scenario go on for days, I guess that was worse than what I did. It was Jerry’s sadistic ways that got me the street name The Executioner they said it was because I had mercy, when I killed it was a clean shot, wam bam thank you ma’am. Of course Vic used that to his advantage, you knew if he sent me he was giving you an easy death, if Jerry showed up he wanted you to suffer.

So, I had stood up to Vic about that a long time ago, I was a kid at the time and didn’t know the own value of my life. But I was in luck because I was to Vic like the son he never had. He like me, he liked my mama so he gave plenty more play space than most. The difference between me and the rest of Vic’s riff raff was that I had no plans of staying in New Orleans. I have grown to despise the city after all the shit I seen over the years. But I needed a little more cash than I already saved up to be able to take my mum and leave this god forsaken place. I lived cheap, didn’t spend a dime more than I had too. I seldom ate out or bought expensive things. The word about me in the family was that I had addiction problems problems and spent my money on gambling and spent my money fucking my way through New Orleans high class hookers. I let them think what they wanted, it was only to my benefit that they thought of me as a closet junkie. The truth was I had invested my money well through a Swiss bank under a fake name and identity.

I been working for Vic since I was 18, so for ten years I managed to put away a good chunk of money, and even if the cash I had would keep my mother and I living well for many years I still needed at least a quarter of a good mill more to ensure that we could pay for the new identities I knew we would need. One of those the back alley of fifth and third in a New York City basement for a 50 grand a pop wouldn’t do. What we would need was the real fucking deal, where every system was changed, and Isaac and Carla O’Connor would cease to exist.

Picking up my pace I flicked up the collar of my coat, the last of the winter winds had refused to let go of New Orleans so it was still cold this early morning. I threw a glance over my shoulder before running across the empty street that lead towards my apartment that was located on top of a bakery. The owner and baker of the shop was an old friend's father and he let me rent it for almost nothing. I had insisted on paying something but it was more a symbolic sum. This was one of the reasons I was able to save and invest as much money as I was each month. I proved my worth to Vic very early on after I started working for him, he was almost 18 years older than me and when I thought him as a mere 18 year old how to play the stock market and what games to get people to bet on to make the most money he start paying me 2% of the profit he made each week. Today I was up to 20% he made a shit load of money each week and so did I by getting my 20% and doing odd side jobs. I dug in my coat pocket for my keys cursing the damp wind running in under my jacket grazing my skin with it’s coldness and finally when the door gave way I didn’t hesitate to step right in and shut the damp weather out. Taking the steps up to the flat one at a time I step into this large loft with a open floor planning, the only thing separating my bedroom from the living room was a screen wall but that was fine with me. Not many people, hardly any at all actually, was invited into my home, most didn’t even know where I lived. Of course Vic did but he held me in such high regards at this point that he let me have my privacy.

I shrugged out of my jacket throwing it on a stool standing next to the kitchen counter that I used as a breakfast table. That was my favorite spot to sit in the mornings to read the paper or a book and drinking a good pot of coffee. I went directly to the sink washing up before taking out the finest beans of coffee money could buy, it was the only luxury thing I really let myself spend money on and of course the Moccamaster coffee maker. I poured water into the machine and measured up the coffee hitting the button before walking back through the flat to undress and have that clean of the shit from the night shower. This was my ritual every early morning when I came home, sometimes I would sneak in to Tony in the bakery and steal one of his scones or croissants to have with my coffee but not this morning, it been way to fucking cold to take that detour. Stripping out of my clothes just to throw them in the hamper next to the bathroom door I walk naked into the shower turning the water on, as I wait for the water to get warm I pick up my toothbrush and start brushing my teeth. I didn’t smoke myself but after spending a whole night with Vic and dealing with the books and who was due to pay up it felt like I had an ashtray in my mouth. That man didn’t go without a smoke between his lips for long. I don’t get how he could stand it, I felt nauseated just sitting next to him. I rinsed off my toothbrush letting it drop back into its cup before pulling the shower curtain aside to step in under the warm water.

I loved showering really hot, most people would complain that it scolded their skin, but not me it was like getting a gentle massage that started on the top of your head and didn’t end until it fell of your feet and down into the drain. For a few minutes I allowed myself to just stand there not thinking about anything or doing much of nothing, I just let the water fall over my face and the rest of my body washing away all evidence of Vic’s smokes, spilled beer on my pants that soaked through to my skin. After a while i sensed that the water was starting to get less and less warm I quickly washed up before turning the water off. I dried off quickly bringing the towel back out with me as I dried my hair, just pulling on a pair of sweats letting the wonderful smell of coffee lure me back to into the kitchen. I poured myself a large mug with a hint of milk and grabbed my book from the counter sitting down on the other chair next to the one where I left my jacket. This was me winding down after my night on the job. The sun was now just breaking through the dark grey clouds of the rain clouds that been on as a constant parade for the past couple weeks, sending this golden yellow light through my kitchen window. It actually made me smile as I picked up my cowboy western book and started to read. This was why this was my favorite time of day, it didn’t get much better than this. - #NewOrleans #SoA #IRP