Dark Rites by Jeremy Jordan King

Author:Jeremy Jordan King [King, Jeremy Jordan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781626393028
Publisher: Bold Strokes Books
Published: 2015-01-06T05:00:00+00:00

Autumn 1922

“There’s a boathouse on the west side of the lake,” Harold huffed. “Store it there. I don’t know why I’m the one telling you how to do your job.”

Leo C. wrinkled his brow. “Won’t people be using it?” he asked.

Harold was normally a controlled kind of guy. Quiet and calm. But that thumb-shaped idiot really knew how to push his buttons. Stupid questions, over and over. “Not if you put a guy there with a gun in his jacket to tell everybody it’s closed.” Harold draped his overcoat on his arm and plopped his hat on his head. “You figure it out. Just tell me if you want it or not.”

“It just sounds risky. I got cops on my ass because of what happened down south.”

Harold gritted his teeth. “It’s not the biggest resort town on the eastern seaboard, Leo. It’s a hotel in the middle of the fucking woods. If a cop pulls up, I say pour them a glass. Congratulate him on not getting eaten by a bear on his way to arrest you.”

“There ain’t no bears in Jersey.”

“I need to move this stuff by Friday. If you can’t do that for me, I’ll walk downtown and find another greasy Italian to do business with.” Harold opened the door. “I expect a call tomorrow.” He slipped into the hallway and made sure not to look back. That tough-guy act was strategic. And necessary. Harold had rehearsed several different versions of that conversation. Unfortunately he had to perform the one he was least looking forward to. He hated convincing people to do things. And negotiating was tedious. It’d be easiest if Leo simply accepted the offer or flat-out refused. The two ends of the spectrum were a breeze. That middle area was trying.

Even so, he knew Leo would agree to take the product. He always did. This song and dance happened every time, and besides, nobody else was making the guy offers. What other supplier would put the effort into personally traveling all the way down to that place? Nobody, that’s who. The other guys were lazy, only selling to joints in the city. Not Harold Roth. He knew everybody was irked by this amendment, that people all over the place craved a drink, not just New Yorkers. So he built his empire in Jersey, Philly, and even parts of Delaware.

A man in an ill-fitting suit held the hotel door open while he passed through. “Have a safe trip home, Mr. Roth,” he said. “I hope that Madelyn Vicks comes with you next time. She’s a real beaut.”

Harold pretended to laugh. “Don’t get too attached. She’s a taken lady, and you don’t want any trouble from Mr. Croft.” They shared a hearty chuckle, then Harold nodded, turned, and sighed an irritated sigh to himself.

The sun was setting and the humidity that made summer nights comfortable had retreated with the season. He decided to put on his overcoat. Still, two boats were being paddled around the man-made lake beside the hotel.

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