Backstory

A heavy, unusual February rain beat heavily on their SUV. It was parked in front of the school bookstore. Louis Mecca and Willow Weaver could see him good enough through the front picture window of the bookstore, but the USF BULLS logo and rain obstructed their view more than their liking. He was sipping on some sort of drink, typing away on his computer. Probably waiting out the rain. He took a sip of his drink and looked out the front window. He stared straight at them for a moment, before going back to his laptop screen.

“Fuck, you think he saw us?” Louis Mecca said.

“Hell, I can’t even see us and I’m in the damn passenger seat,” Willow Weaver said.

“How much longer do we have to sit here? I’m hungry and The Cantina has a burrito bowl calling my name.”

“I want my fucking money and so should you. He ripped us off and I want to make sure he knows that we know.”

“So, what’s your plan? Beat him up out front here?” Louis said, clearly aggravated.

“No. You’re going to go in there and explain to him the circumstances that we discussed on the way over here. I’m going to stay warm and dry in here,” Willow said facing Mecca now, with a big grin on her face.

Louis stared at her. She stared back, hints of anger in her brown eyes.

“Go get that fucking money Lou Lou.”

After letting a long, slow breath, Louis quickly opened the driver’s side door and swiftly darted rain drops before getting under the cover of the building’s covered sidewalk. He walked casually through the sliding glass doors and pretended to be interested in the “New Bulls Swag!” section of the bookstore. From the car, Willow could see him. Opening the glove box, she pulled out a silver lock box and clicked it open. She pulled a joint they had rolled this morning, closed the box and placed it back in its rightful place for safe keeping. She put the spliff between her pursed lips and flicked the lighter form the cupholder a few times before getting a flame. Willow inhaled deeply as she watched Louis mosey his way over to him.

“He better not fuck this up,” she said, blowing out the smoke through the cracked window.

She watched as Mecca sat across from him, pushing the laptop screen down on his fingers. The man flung his hands back so his fingers wouldn’t get pinched. He was about to say something, but once he saw who was across the table from him, he slowly sat back into his chair.

“Bitch is scared already,” Willow said, taking another hit.

She watched as Louis, very calmly, explained to him what his options were. She had felt somewhat compassionate that morning, so she decided to give the man two: Give us the money within 24 ours or never be seen again. She thought it was a pretty easy choice, but she knew men and how they think. Always trying to weasel their way out of shit. Not this time, not this motherfucker. Willow had built an empire and she wasn’t about to let this hotshot New Yorker fuck it up.

After about three minutes, Louis pointed to their vehicle and Willow waved with her evil grin written all over her face. The rain had let up enough where she could see the man’s face turn white as a ghost. Louis then stood up and walked past him, patting his left shoulder, before going back out into the rain and into the SUV.

“So, what he say?” Willow said, handing the roach to Louis.

“He says meet him tonight at 9:30 in Vinoy Park, on the bench facing the bay. The one under the twin palm trees. He’ll have the money then,” Louis said as he inhaled as much as he could from the tootsie roll sized spliff.

“We better bring a few solders, just in case.”

Mecca nodded as he rolled down his window and flicked the butt into the puddle below the car. It sizzled as it hit the water. He rolled the window back up, shifted into drive, and casually headed down the street.

The two stayed quiet until they got to The Cantina, Willow feeling the high and Mecca feeling his hunger. They were soon sitting in the corner of the small Mexican joint, sipping on a margarita the size of a fishbowl.

            “How many solders should we call?” Louis said, examining the menu. Carlos Santana played one of his many guitar solos through the speakers. The place wasn’t busy, so they could hear the rustle and bustle of the kitchen; dishes clanking, knifes slicing through meat and veggies, while the cooks spoke loudly in Spanish.

            “With this guy? Probably at least 3. And they gotta be our strong guys. Don’t need him to think he can out muscle us,” Willow said, grabbing a complementary chip from the center of the table.

            She chewed and took a hefty swallow of booze.

            “I’m going to text Corey, Tate, and Walker. Tate alone could handle this guy, but what’s better than one meat head? Motherfuckin’ three.”

            Louis smirked as the waitress came to the table to take their orders. After she left, he said: “Who would of thought you’d become so powerful? St. Pete is your fuckin city. People will soon learn everything goes through Weaver and Company Enterprises.”

            Willow couldn’t help but smile. She had worked hard for this. Learning from an early age from her dead-beat father, before going out on her own. Her grandmother left her a small fortune, the top floor of a two-family house, and her rust bucket of a SUV. Granted it wasn’t easy at first, having to follow the old-world cliché way for women to get “respect” or that’s what her daddy taught her. Soon as Willow turned 18 and graduated high school, she started turning tricks and working for her father’s old dealers. Apparently, he had a good enough rapport with them before he died, so it was easy for her to get in on the action.

            She was attractive from the early stages of puberty and never looked back. Willow could have the pick of the litter during her St. Pete High days. All the boys would stare as she walked down the hallways. Occasionally she’d drop a pen or paper and slowly bend over to pick it up, knowing there would always be eyes on her. Her long brown hair and eyes were only the beginning of her looks. Willow’s tits sat perfectly on her chest and the curves led the way to her ass that had just enough jiggle to make you laugh every once in a while.

            Louis said, “What are you thinking about?” He grabbed two chips and shoved them into his mouth.

            “Just what you said about how this is my city,” Willow said, still smiling, her perfectly white teeth gleaming.

            Their food showed before Louis could respond. Steam rose from the hot plates as they looked at each other. Louis dug in first, scooping forkfuls of beef, beans, lettuce, and cheese into his mouth. Willow was patient, letting her own burrito bowl cool down some, before she’d dig in. She instead picked up her phone from the table, unlocked it with her face, and opened the messages app. Typing furiously, with her long acrylic nails clicking against the glass screen, Willow then hit send. Louis’s own phone buzzed in his pocket as he was eating chips. He looked at her, confused.

            “Why’d you text me?” he said, with food still in his mouth.

            “It was a group text Lou Lou. You, me, Corey, Tate, and Walker. So, we all know what the plan is. Don’t want you bitchin’ at me for keeping you out of the loop,” she said.

            “Well, you do.”

            Willow nodded. She couldn’t have him know everything that went on within the business. Yes, Louis was her boyfriend and partner, but he couldn’t be trusted when it came to logistics. Plus, Weaver and Company Enterprises, didn’t solely distribute and make drugs. No sir, it was more than that, but of course lil’ ole’ Lou Lou didn’t know that. And that was going to be kept that way.

            Soon, Willow herself was digging in to her own food and both phones were buzzing like crazy. The three ‘solders’ were responding; agreeing to the plan and time. They all lived separate lives, had day jobs, Tate even had a kid, but when it came to Willow Weaver, they all would stop what they were doing and do what she needed.

Louis had all but finished his bowl and said, “Hope this guy has his money.”

Willow forked a bite of chicken and lettuce, swallowed and sipped some of the fishbowl before answering, “And if he don’t, I’ll be the last person he’ll ever have to deal with.”

Louis smiled. Willow smiled. He grabbed her hand and kissed it, before running his thumb over her knuckles. She pulled her hand back, grabbed her phone and typed out the next message.

We remind people tonight who runs this city.