2020-04-10 - The Little Boss

The door to Kelly's Gym swings open, letting in a stubborn bit of misty drizzle as well as a 5'11" figure wearing a hoodie and sweats, with sneakers, and a duffle bag sling over their shoulder. The figure shakes off the water droplets inside the entrance, then lowers the hood. It's a woman, with dark blonde hair pulled back in a high tail, and dark blue, keen eyes. There is a beauty mark, just off center, between her brows.

She grabs an employee lightly by the arm and says, "I am looking for Joey Kelly."

Man, that heavy bag really needs to learn to pay up on time because Joey's tacking that bag like it's been holding out and talking shit about his dead mama- who, for the record, is a ghost and no saint, but no one gets to talk shit about mama. Least of all this bag that's being punished. The 5'10" stack of piled rage and bad life choices levies hit after hit in the same spot waiting for the bag to lean back into it making the weight of it buckle in the middle. Elbows in, focus forward. Keep his guard up; don't leave the bread basket exposed.

Everyone tries to go for the head, knock someone's block off, not unlike going to attack Felix directly. That's just pain. Damage is going for those soft targets; those things you take for granted. The kidneys, the stomach, the soft targets that are protected by a wall of muscle and no real armor. The core: that part of something that holds it up and allows you to stand tall. Caved in? Well that's when the piranhas eat you. That ain't no way to do boxing or fucking business.

Which brings Vic to see the man here doing just that: Protecting Felix' kidneys now that his head is a bit elsewhere. Duarte arches an eyebrow looking to his elbow, her face, and naw he doesn't bother looking to Joey. A side-nod of his head directs, "Boss' over there. You need anythin' else though, be sure t' ask." No one ever accused him of being subtle, but at least he's direct and helpful.

He's favoring his left side and he recent exposion has pointedly left trace reminders on him even if the evidence else-wise has faded into fading prison tats.

Vic ignores Duarte's charm, instead heading over to watch Joey work the bag with a discerning look. Which for her is a dead-eyed scowl. Her poker face must be epic. She assesses him quickly, his form on the bag, his obvious injuries, his expression while doling out damage to the beleaguered equipment. She doesn't speak, just stands there, waiting to be acknowledged. She isn't seemingly inclined to interrupt her new boss.

Joey has his flinty focus on the bag, but not so much so he's lost his peripheral vision. If he has any sort of poker face it's likely to read: Motherfucker, you have my money, and you're going to hand it over. Is hostile a poker face? Is... that's not important right now. "Vic." It can be assumed this is a statement awaiting confirmation from a voice that sounds like he puts gravel in his coffee. It's not accusatory, he's just as succinct as advertised. No wonder he and Felix get on.

"Mmhmm," comes the reply as Vic moves to hold the bag for him, dropping her gear bag on the floor at her feet. "This your place?" she asks because, well, the name and all that jazz. It's hard to tell with the hoodie on, but she seems like she can handle herself. Her flinty dark blue eyes lock on Joey's face, unblinkingly. "Mister Monaghan sends his regards."

Joey dips his head in a nod. Yup. His place it seems. He's winded, sweat and tension in his shoulders and fatigue being burdened on him, and on he goes. He murmurs, "I'm sure he does." Always, in one fashion or another does Felix watch his town.

His fist pops the bag one more time with a tap to stay it and then presses his palm to the canvas that's quite possibly had enough.He catches it and looks up at her, face flush under the neatly trimmed beard. He turns to her and reaches down for his water holding up a finger for a moment and taking a long drink of water from his bottle and catch his breath. "Yeah, He said t'look for you. Said you was movin back. You set up yet?"

There is a slight nod of her head as Vic replies, "I am. I have a trailer at Huckleberry and I'm working a 'public job' as a bartender at Two if By Sea, on Felix's recommendation." And Felix's suggestion that was not really a suggestion to Easton Marshall. She pulls a card out of her hoodie pocket. It has nothing on it but a pair of cell phone numbers, one printed, one written. "Printed one is my regular cell. Written one is a cell reserved for your emergencies only. It's a burner."

Joey arches an eyebrow and points in that just over there manner... as one can when one's fist looks like a giant angry cotton swab. "Yeah yeah. I'm familiar. " He pauses and squints as she says she's working for Easton, but it's met with a nod and no commentary that passes beyond that. "He'll pay honest." He may not be entirely, but the pay is good.

The card is taken between thumb and glove and there is a subsequent follow up nod. "Yeah I'll get you programmed in so I'll answer. " Efficient. He's quiet, dark green eyes scanning the information and taking in not the weight of the paper card, but the responsibilities levied on top of it. He looks up, and looks her over with some assessing appraisal and asks arching an eyebrow, "What all he tell you? He's not one for lengthy explanation so much."

"He's really not, is he?" Vic muses, with the faintest flicker of a smile at the corners of her mouth. "Said I was to come down here and do for you what you used to do for him. Watch your back, cover your ass, get shit done, babysit the less bright members of your organization, so to speak."

Joey lets his expression shift, though it's not really a wide range, to relax into agreement. Yeah Felix is pretty fucking succinct which in its own way makes people pay the fuck attention when he talks because he's not going to repeat himself. His stance shits evenly between both feet. He lifts his attention to Duarte and tells him, "Hey, do me a favor? Call up Grizzly and get our lunch order in? I got this one. But 86 them eggs. I don't trust em."

Sliding the look back to her he nods slowly, "I mean I known em since I was a kid. Ain't much changed. Just... now shit's changed. The goal is simple: I do not want my city breaking out into Lord of the fucking Flies. WIth Felix moving his business focus there's going to be more than one person think they can suddenly become a cowboy and that can't happen. Then the cops get involved and at worst it attracts federal attention. Fucking sloppy. So, my question to you is this, what is in this" conversational and curious he pauses observing her for the answer, "for you."

"it's my job," Vic replies succinctly. "Felix helped me out of a bad spot once, and then hired me. I owe him, and he pays me really well." She shrugs. "Plus, I am happiest when I'm hitting things." Things likely meaning people.

Joey replies evenly to what is, on the surface, rather understandable. "Yeah well so am I when there's cause for it. Not a fan of collateral damage, ya hear me?" Information but also a very pointed F.Y.I. for all 'new employees' that might not be in the know. "Unless Ms. Simmons is in debt she shouldn't be involved. Simple enough." Looking around he keeps the gravel quiet as he speaks. This isn't Duarte's problem and he's not about to compromise his ringer with distractions of grandeur he do not need.

"You from here or what? Fi told me... some shit. I asked him but I'm asking you once, are you a cop, Vic?" Steely green eyes halt all else and watch her closely, but calmly. "I'm a find out one way or another. I value honesty and loyalty here and one of those gets earned both ways, granted. I don't like things that aren't up front."

Vic snorts a bit at collateral damage. "I only hit people who suck. I have no desire to ruffle Ms. Simmons feathers unless she owes Felix or is a threat to you, boss." She shrugs, folds her arms over her chest, and the question about being a cop gets a bark of an empty laugh. "Used to be. In Portland, I was a narcotics detective. Did a lot of undercover work. Kind of work you end up losing everything because of."

She shakes her head and smirks. "Talk to Javier de la Vega. We worked together. He'll tell you terrible things about me. They're probably true. Either way, I got fired, and that's when Felix scooped me up. Took care of some problems I had, and set me up in Hoquiam about five years back."

Joey listens and for all Joey screams Give me one fucking reason to put you into a box he stands still as the very paragon of controlled aggression. In the end she tells the truth and that? That satisfies. When mentions de la Vega and one eyebrow arches a little ans he only answers, "Same." Same as in Javier will talk shit about him or same as he got his shit sorted he doesn't clarify.

"If problem with El Capitan come up keep me informed. I don't want him touched. he, likewise has been cool. I have no immediate desire to tip the scales." He doesn't go on. She's a smart cookie, or a really dumb one that learned something, he dunno. Time will tell.

Teeth tug the laces on his glove and he works it off tiltin s his head to the side thoughtfully. "Monaghan doesn't like to waste talent. An't we both fortunate for that. Also fuckin raised some of us not to be or deal with stupid. You got questions? Ask . There a problem I expect honesty. I ain't here to micromanage, but I want to know if there's a problem so we can put support in place to help you out. I do not like problems."

Vic lets out a low chuckle. "Well now you're just taking away all my fun. I do get to punch de la Vega if he swings first, right?" she asks. Because she is probably very skilled at poking Ruiz's buttons, repeatedly. She shrugs a bit. "I don't have a reason to lie to you. I do what Felix says. He says jump, I jump."

The mobster is keeping her father safe, and that is more important to her than anything else, even her own safety.

Joey cracks a wry grin itching the side of his nose now that his hand doesn't look like a giant leathery cotton swab. finally! ""Shit he swings first make em sorry he fuckin did it.. Plant his ass like a daisy. Just don't kill em. He's reasonable. Don't want some cowboy calling shots over there thinkin it's open season on all our people trying to prove a point and blowin this city up."

Okay, he does think of these things. "Good." Just because the crime baron is now landed doesn't mean he's not loyal to his King first. "You set up yet? If you need a place I can recommend some things. You met everyone yet or no?" There's a pause and he looks around. "We gotta have another meeting. Fuck." he does hate meetings, mainly cause his office is the size of a postage stamp. Ah well, here will suffice.

"Brought my Airstream down with my truck. Set up at Huckleberry. Got a cover job at Marshall's bar, so I think I'm set. But yeah, I could stand an introduction to everyone down here. Dunno if any of them worked through Hoquiam or not. If they did they probably at least know of me." Vic leans against the wall and watches him, assessing. "What are your routines? I need to know so I can do a security assessment."

Joey considers this for a long moment without answering. He's about as enthusiastic about giving a false answer it seems as he is repeating himself. Tired, calloused fingers pull at the laces on the gloves and slides the other off. For all that he's on the surface just a thug his movements are deliberate and energy is not wasted on idle fidgeting. Elbows stay in and stance stays squared either for presence, or being attacked and needing to respond, or just habit. Strong, agile, and with snap reflexes it's not a wonder for a detective's eye to see exactly how he got himself into trouble, and gets out of it. That leads to this conversation: How to avoid the trouble.

"I like that place. There's some trouble there but they're on my payroll. Greg's over there with his goonies. He runseverything anyone could want to stuff up their damn nose into the city and pays us in property taxes. You find people nosing in on that? You let him know. he'll sort it out. We got people need something it gets funneled through him and his. My cousin Ember is taking up the business on his heels. She worked that out with him and Felix awhile back. Good kid. Smart. "

He considers the rest and says "I got a couple properties. Suffice to say no one lays a hand on the dance studio or the salon downtown, and I don't want em fucking up the Dispensary. They shake that place more than tea leaves will fall out of that and the DEA is all up in our ass." he notes a few other routines including the small tidbit, "Nicole's your neighbor. She's cool. I try not to give her specifics but she's trustworthy. I don't want her involved involved, but she knows enough to be helpful and a good asset. Easton you know. That aside? We don't operate in or near the Casino. That's hands off. Felix has asked people explicitly not to get involved with that and we'll do so."

Vic listens with that predatory intensity she exudes. Joey seems to have some kind of conscience here or there. She's likely not used to it, not after dealing with the cartels and Felix for as long as she has. She makes mental note of the names and what they do, nodding slowly. "Right. I need to know what you do day to day, so I can look for spots that might be a problem, and safe spaces for you if shit goes down. I want to have an action plan for you in case of emergencies." Clearly this is why she was hired by Felix.

The reason Felix sent her after his right hand dude becomes evident when he says, "You're standing in it." Not much of a hidey hole if your name is on the building. "Establishment has a few we can use. We'll do a visit at some point. In case of emergencies you'd best be calling a damn hearse for whoever's making the bad call of raining hell on my world." He considers and asks curious, "You wanna know about my routine? Be here tomorrow 6am. You can start learning all about it." He doesn't smile, but his eyes glint a bit of amusement knowing he's one of 8 people that willingly wake up at 5 in this damn city. "Bring your running shoes."

5am isn’t really an issue for someone who rarely sleeps. That’s what coke is for. Vic nods. “You got it, boss. Anything else you need to know or can I go take out my aggression on a heavy bag?”

Joey watches her for a long time. His reputation stands evident in that zero bullshit way he looks at people; crime doesn't really take days off to just fuck around with. He must have enough information he needs, or is patient enough because he says, "Yeah, there's lockers there." There's a pause and he follows with, "Use it when you need to. We'll need to be ready." He doesn't say for what and Duarte is wading over hesitantly arching an eyebrow. Before he even addresses Joey the littlest crime lord taht could sighs and says tiredly, "Oh shaddup. What do you need?"

"Brother's on the phone boss. I wouldn't interrupt but, ya know, Jaime."

Joey pauses and his weight shifts and casually, but with purpose, moves over to take the phone that is somehow still on a mile long spiral cord. Dear lord why isn't it wireless?! "Yeah a'ight. Probably needs me to pick Sprout up from school." He wedges the phone between shoulder and ear and greets, "Yo, Jaim." Eyes track Vic with a nod. That's all the business for now. The rest will be worked over in time.