david headed over to a local hot spot on Metairie Road. Oscars was the name of the pub, as the bright neon marquee testified to the night and, finding a place to park, David prepared for what lay ahead.
He was about to meet a man he had no right contacting, but it would further his goals to do so here tonight. Unbeknownst to the rest of the team, of course and Maxwell – especially Maxwell – included, though he never would have thought that this guy was all that important before now.
Al Meo had been here over thirty minutes and that dickhead Wayne was still not here. He was just getting ready to throw in the towel and leave when he saw the dark blue Ford pull into a slot in front of the bar. It’s about time he thought, as he took his place near the back, waiting for Dave to make his entrance. The **** was even driving a police car.
When would he learn to keep a low profile?
David saw Al Meo floating around the pool table like a turd in a punch bowl. As he approached, he tossed two quarters onto the table and, looking at Meo said, “Don’t you know this is a pool table here, fella’? You’re supposed to play with the balls on the table, not the ones in your pants.”
“Yeah, real cute, you Irish airbag.” Al told him without looking up from his shot. “Doyle would line up the whole team to kick my **** if he knew I was meeting with you.” Al tried to say quietly, not caring for attention. “What was so important that it couldn’t wait until we got back from Florida?”
“Did you and Doyle hear that Alex Oliver was hired by the bad guy, Steed?”
“Sometimes Doyle tells me what he sees fit to tell me. So what?” Al Meo said, seeing what was coming. There was going to be a power play and this young buck thought he could take Doyle out of the picture.
Bon Chance, he thought, looking at the cocky bastard before him. Good Luck.
“Well, I have an idea that could help us out on that front.” Dave informed the disgusting little fat tickturd. “What do you know about Oliver’s girlfriend?”
“I know she lives a short distance from here and that she and Oliver used to come in here fairly frequently.” Al told him, surprised that he might know something that Dave did not. “But they broke it up, what good will she be to us?” Al asked, the question forming on his face as well.
“As long as we know all of Oliver’s weaknesses, we can send him in any direction we want.” David told him confidently, “We could set up a code five on her - just to see what’s up at the house, know-what-I-mean?”
“Did you run this by Doyle?” Al asked, though he knew the answer; he only wanted to see Dave’s reaction to the question, and it came as he knew it would.
“No, and you had best not either,” Dave told him sternly while brandishing a deep sigh. “It’s like I told you at the hotel, Doyle’s on his way out and now I’m going to ask you once more - who are you going to stand with?” David’s impatience changed his face to a flush color of red.
“Easy going there,” Al said with a sly grin without answering the question, “…easy boy. What do you have in mind?”
“I’ll have the surveillance on McBride taken care of.” Dave told him as the redness drained from his face. “You just keep me up to date with what Doyle’s doing, and if we need the woman, I’ll be able to get my hands on her anytime,” he said confidently, though not talking about Al’s place in all this.
There was definitely some **** in the wind, Al decided.
“Alex Oliver is not going to be messing up this thing of ours. Of this you can be sure.” David had no compunction about using the female to get to Oliver if he needed.
“What you do is yours, I own none of it, I’ll tell you like I tell Doyle; I can cover my **** just fine,” he hissed. “You just worry about yours. If this thing of yours brings any **** around to this thing of mine, then I’ll worry about your ****. Know what I MEAN?” Al fumed, wanting this young buck to know he wasn’t anybody’s minion. “Now if there is nothing else, I have a meeting with Doyle and a job to take care of, in Florida.”
“Right, and good luck to the two of you.” Dave said as he gathered his things to get ready to leave. “If you see to it that Doyle does his job right, this conversation will have been unnecessary.” David picked up the quarters he had set on the pool table and turned to leave. He hated dealing with Italians, but only half as much as he hated dealing with blacks.
“What, no tip?” Al called out as he walked away. “Cheap Mick!”
When Dave was out of sight, Al hurried out, too.
A cab, parked near the entrance to the bar, waited for a fare - and Al had just become one.
“Airport!” he said, as he watched David pulling off from the corner and leaving to go only God knew where. However, that wasn’t important just yet, he thought, while making his own plans for the evening.