Page 23 of Iron Will
“What do you mean?” I ask.
Mazur exhales in disgust, wafting onion breath across the table. “Fuckin’ Mickey. He’s been gambling back there, losin’ his shirt to the Vietnamese. I bailed his stupid ass out more times… The asshole used to pay me back. Now lately, I ain’t hardly seen him. Because he owes me, you know? He keeps tellin’ me Bethany will pay me.”
“How’s she gonna do that?” Yoda asks. “She ain’t got a pot to piss in, from what I understand.”
Mazur shoots him a leer. “Bethany’s a dancer here. But she could do a lot more, if you know what I mean. Lotsa guys here would pay good money to get with that. She could pay off his debts pretty fast, if she wanted to work overtime.”
Next to me, Yoda tenses, to my surprise. “That’s a hell of a fucked up thing, Mazur, expectin’ her to pay for his debt like that,” he spits out.
Mazur shrugs and shows his palms. “Hey, I ain’t forcin’ anyone. She don’t wanna do it, she doesn’t do it.”
“Does Mickey have any other sources of income that you know of?” I ask.
Mazur scoffs. “He’s mostly a petty thug. Always running some low-level scam or another. You know the type. Stealin’ stuff off the backs of trucks and selling it, shit like that. Never hangs onto it for long. Mickey is the kind of guy who’d be easy to talk into any dumbass scheme to make some fast cash. That dumb shit always thinks he’s one step away from the big break that’s gonna make him a millionaire.”
“That sounds about right,” I say filing that away for later. “You got anything else you can tell us?”
“I dunno.” Mazur peers at me over his round, gin-blossomed cheeks. “What do you want with him, anyway?”
“Nothing in particular. He’s been spending some time in our territory. I’m just tryin’ to figure out how much of an inconvenience he’s gonna be.”
“For the Lords?” Mazur laughs. “He’s just a big loud mouth, with nothin’ behind it. Too smart to realize he’s dumb.”
“He got any debts that you know?” I press. “Other than you?”
“Yeah, probably.” Mazur looks down at the table for a moment, frowning. “You know what I think? I think he’s mixed up with the Vietnamese guys he gambles with sometimes in the back of my club.”
“You mean you think he owes them money, too?”
“Yeah. Or at least, he’s in business with them and he’s gonna fuck it up. I hear them talkin’ sometimes when they’re playin’ cards back there. About jobs he’s doin’ for them. It wouldn’t be the first time, either.” Mazur chuckles to himself. “You’ve seen Mickey, right? I mean up close? You know that missing finger on his right hand?”
“Yeah.”
“He got it cut off by some Asian wannabe gangster up in Cincy. This crew that thinks they’re part of Yakuza or something. Word is, they cut his pinky off to settle a debt.” He shakes his head. “And I bet you anything, that dumb shit’s gonna go right back for more.”
We thank Mazur for his time, and leave the club. To my surprise, the usually unexcitable Yoda is scowling and angry.
“Bethany don’t belong with that weak-ass pussy,” he mutters. “That fuckin’ Mickey’s no better than a goddamn pimp.”
I look over at him, raising a brow, but I don’t say anything. He’s right, of course. Hey, I got no issue with a woman doin’ whatever she wants with her body. But it takes a special brand of shit-bucket to wanna pimp out your girlfriend.
As we head back to Ironwood on our bikes, I think about everything we just learned from Mazur. I’m starting to get a fuller picture of Mickey King. What I see is a small-time thug, playing at being a big shot. A guy who’s down on his luck. A guy who needs a woman he can boss around, and her job to keep a roof over his head.
A guy with small prospects and a big ego.
A guy who isn’t all that bright. Or with all that much to lose.
10
Laney
The next morning, as soon as I get to work, I make it a point to go up to the second floor to finally have the conversation I’m dreading with Paisley’s mother.
When I get upstairs, I’m immediately relieved to see there’s only one biker stationed outside her room. At least for the moment, he’s probably not enough to draw Blake’s attention. I mentally shift that problem to second place.
Bethany is already there in the room with Paisley. The shades are partially drawn against the bright morning sun, which I’m assuming is because of Paisley’s light sensitivity due to the concussion. Mickey, thankfully, is nowhere to be seen.
I make small talk with the two of them for a few minutes. Paisley’s not quite as subdued as she was last time I saw her. Her little face is still banged up, and she still seems tired, but I note that her coloring looks better. I ask her a few questions about school, and what her favorite games and shows are. In spite of still not feeling great, she’s alert, and seems comfortable around her mother, and not agitated or afraid. Good signs all.