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David sees himself as a fairly bland guy. Average and unremarkable. Born to middle class parents in the suburbs. Moderate success was placed in front of him on a copper platter. Get a bachelors in business or something else just as useful and work a nine to five at some office for the next thirty years. Marry a woman he hardly saw and then the whole two and a half kids ‘American Dream’ would follow with a white picket fence in a nice enough neighborhood just like his parents.
He didn’t do any of that though. Dropped out of college instead, that was really the drop off point in his relationship with his parents. They had expectations and he could never really live up to them. They still blamed Efraim for everything, had been since they got arrested together in high school. Maybe they thought he was the reason David was such a disappointment.
If that was the reason then they were sort of right, in a way. After seeing Efraim again, David thought he missed him. Really, what he missed was the thrill. Getting arrested, doing drugs. College was monotonous bullshit and every minimum wage job he picked up after that was the same, but being around Efraim was intoxicating. He knew exactly who you wanted him to be and with David he became adrenaline itself. Sometimes David thinks that version of Efraim is the closest thing to whoever he really is. Maybe it’s because Efraim still does the same sort of fucked up shit regardless of if anyone who knows him is there or not, but maybe it’s just wishful thinking.
The sun’s out of his eyes but it still feels like it’s beating on him with how hot out it is. The weather in Iraq is a bitch like that. David wants to laugh but doesn’t because whatever comes out will be a little manic and too deranged. They flew from Miami to Jordan and rode through the Triangle of Death to deliver some weapons for another endless American war and now he’s sitting in the relative safety of an United States military base waiting for the largest payday of his life. He still feels blood rushing inside his veins, waiting for another life or death situation and David’s never felt more alive.
He looks at Efraim, walking around the place like they just got back to Yeshiva and thought they were the biggest gangsters in the entire high school, and resents him for ever talking David into buying weed as dumb teenagers. He hasn’t really struggled for anything in his life, had a shit job but a great girlfriend, and only now has David felt like he’s finally breathing. He sort of wants to sock Efraim in the face for it.
They make it back to Florida after impressing the Captain. He felt like he was Neil Armstrong in that goddamn dessert, doing the impossible and burning glory. Now his feet were back on Earth, Miami, and home has never felt so banal. His apartment is warm with the heat of Iz and the life that she’s built inside of it for the two of them but looking at the place makes him miss almost dying and David wants to cry because he couldn’t listen to his parents and have the classic nuclear family of a husband, wife, and their two and a half kids, and now he can’t even want to have Iz more than he wants to hear nothing but blood rushing in his ears.
When he was a kid, David’s parents took him to the Kennedy Space Center in Florida and for years he entertained the idea of being an astronaut. Touching the stars and doing what only a few humans could ever hope of doing. The dream faded long before he became a freshman due to a culmination of things. Things from so long ago begin to blur together but it had something to do with his inability and his parents’ disapproval. Ever since it felt like he was floating through life trying to find something else to look forward to. After dropping out of college it became just trying to find something else to say ‘fuck you’ to his parents. His feet are back on Earth but he didn’t go to space, he went and saw the Devil. The weather’s average in Miami today. Warm but nothing like the intense heat in Iraq and David misses that goddamn Hell.
There’s sort of a part of him that wants to go home. To his childhood home where his Dad is watching football in the living room and his Mom is sitting outside with her friends getting just a little too drunk. He wants to apologize and put everything behind them and never leave that sort of safety again. But they won’t take him back. Not as he is. So instead he sort of wants to show up with money and guns and anything else they hate just so he can say something stronger than ‘fuck you’, something like ‘I am everything you didn’t want me to be and I hope that scares you’.
He follows Efraim into a world of danger because the whispers of pain are as much a siren call to him as they make him think of his visceral fear he has for men with too much power over boys who don’t know any better. He follows Efraim because he is the Devil and David might be Eve. Naive and trusting.
Sometimes he looks over at his savior, his tempter of sin, Efraim, and watches as he downs whatever flavor of drug he’s trying this week, all the while thinking, ‘I am better’. Because, for everything that this man had done to make David, he would be nowhere without him. Paperwork and contract acquisition had fallen onto the backburner for Efraim in favor of more pleasurable pastimes. He now delegates most of that sort of work to the grunts running around the office hoping to make even a fraction as much as him.
David’s the one looking for contracts and going through murky channels to find the supplies for them. He cross references eight different sources to supply even one item off of a list now. Looking for both the best price and greatest reputations. He wonders what others, from an outside perspective, think. Do they respect AEY for finding every mile hidden inside an inch? Or do they see a stupid mutt picking at scraps? Guys like them are called ‘war dogs’ for a reason, so probably the latter. No matter how they dress up maybe that’s all they’ll ever be.
At some point David proposes a contract. The verbally agreed upon seventy-thirty now on actual paper. He stares at it for a little bit after it’s made. It’s almost weird to have it in actual writing, to have some piece of truth wrapped up in the lies that David’s stitched together during late nights spent forging documents. The smart thing to do would be to photocopy it, digitize it, or even just take a picture. The thing is though, David’s prepared to risk everything. He’s an addict and this is his drug. Putting everything on black. The other thing is though, he doesn’t trust Efraim much. They aren’t really friends because for as much time they spend together, David doesn’t really like the guy. He likes doing drugs with the guy and being pulled into a world of inevitable doom at the hands of either yourself or another. It’s the promise of something great, being ripped limb from limb in order to become it, only to lose everything on black. So, he doesn’t really trust Efraim enough to have the contract laying about but neither does he really care. Eventually David will fall, but better to stumble rather than to dive off a cliff at the top of the world.
He hasn’t stumbled yet. He works day and night. It’s a wonder he’s still even in a relationship. It’s a near thing though. The two of them, David and Iz, hanging off the edge of a cliff. They’ve got their nails digging into each other, clinging onto a hopeless relationship. When he bought his own place he thought about telling her he wanted space. He remembers coming home after late nights working whatever shitty job he had at the time and falling into her arms. He was lost at sea and she was his raft. Like if someone else cared then he still had something to live for. But he also sort of doesn’t like her. Not that he dislikes her but just that he doesn’t like her. Because David doesn’t actually know anything about Iz. He doesn’t know what she does for work or her favorite color. Or maybe he just doesn’t remember. Sure, he’s met her family and all but he doesn’t actually know any of the little things. David doesn’t know anything about his girlfriend and he’s not sure that he really wants to learn, which makes him a horrible boyfriend but he’s not very sure he wants to be a boyfriend right now.
It’s late and he’s looking at contracts again. There’s one that caught his eye. If AEY can pull it off then it’ll be the greatest job they’ve ever done. He calls Efraim over. One of the perks of living in the same building is that it isn’t as much of a bitch to come over. Efraim still complains like it is. Like it’s the same sort of grand ordeal that made him come over during Iz’s dinner party. He quits complaining after he sees the contract though. David watches as the same thought hits Efraim as it did him. Every other problem in his life has become inconsequential next to this, because this is fucking big.
Then, all of a sudden, they’re in Vegas. The big dogs. Big leagues with even bigger paychecks. Big hopes and big dreams. Nothing really prepares them for how small they are in comparison. The turning point is at a blackjack table. David inwardly wishes for the irony of a roulette table but it was a miserable sort of day, so it’s par for the course. A man sits at the table, slicked back hair and suave.
“Any luck today?” he asks.
David almost laughs at that. He was a child sitting at the dinner table. Haggard looking and still wearing his Vegas X name tag. Either this guy was a dick or had no idea that the latest military tech in the country was being unveiled in the same damn hotel. He focuses a bit more on the guy, a little less on the couple hundreds he’s going to lose in blackjack by the end of the night, and decides that it's more the former. He sits casually, relaxed because he knows that he holds the power in the conversation even if David doesn’t. He’s confident and self-assured. He looks like he knows secrets that threaten national security and knows even more about how to go about creating those sort of threats.
“Not much, no.” David gives a tired, maybe even shy, half smile.
And the man’s tongue is that of a serpent’s when he responds with, “I’m here to change your fortunes. Let’s grab a table over there and chat.”
And sweet Eve had followed the Devil, damning the world with her. They sat at a booth, just the two of them. Neither of them introduce themselves. The name tag hanging around his neck still has ‘David Packouz’ printed neatly onto it but it’s on the other side so unless Mr. Slick and Suave caught more than a glimpse of it then the two of them are strangers. That isn’t to say that the two of them are on the same footing. Even if the man sitting across from him knew his name it’s not like it would mean anything. AEY was out of their depth at Vegas X. They’re nobodies and David even more so, but someone that drinks expensive liquor in low but attractive lighting without even checking the price is definitely a somebody.
The conversation starts slow, like the older man is afraid of scaring David off with too much. And he’s sort of right. As much as he hungers for fire in his veins, he’s also deeply afraid of it all. Of what he’s becoming and what he’s allowing. More often than not he looks at himself in the mirror and thinks that his parents were right and that if he only ripped apart everything that made him a person that they would take him back. Give him forgiveness and allow him to follow in the path they have set out for him.
When he’s asked how he’s liking Vegas, David tells him, “It’d be a whole lot nicer if I were luckier.”
And whilst the other man doesn’t laugh he shares a smile with him. David sips on a mojito as he’s told of travels around the world and how luck makes every place a lot nicer. He actually prefers the fruity drinks but that’s not the sort of drink that you can have surrounded by men with power. He used to drink some of Iz’s when they went out, telling her that he just wanted to try it. That was something he liked about her, their shared taste in drinks. It hits him, somewhat cloudy, the fact that he remembers her taste in drinks. Then it hits him that he only really remembers because he likes them too.
“Where’s the best then? For luck, I mean.” and David has no idea what the fuck he’s talking about but it’s better than continuing to feel morose because of a little introspection.
Still, whilst he had a few drinks sitting at the casino-hotel-restaurant, and he had a few when he was gambling, he’s only on his way to tipsy and definitely not actually drunk enough to interrupt a man who holds the key to the gates of David’s future. Or so the man had said. The stranger stops his retelling of the Swiss Alps and looks at him. He was already looking at David but now his eyes are very focused on the barely-a-man opposite of him. David feels the need to squirm but he’s already feeling the disadvantage of age and experience, he doesn’t really want to look even less like a proper arms dealer. He briefly registers the thought that he’s already dug himself so far away from that image that it’s unsalvageable but he ignores it and puts on a curious smile.
David feels heat. With just the slightest of movements from the older man, who now sits both of his elbows on the table, hands folded together, and is leaning over it, David’s gone a bit breathless. It was closer proximity than he was used to and it startled him despite the smooth motions that flowed like molasses. He wants to back away, their breath is intermingling and he can taste money. It’s a little gross and a little something else.
Instead, David rests his head lightly on one of his hands and leans a bit in as well. Copying habits is reassuring or something, he read that somewhere.
“Siberia is very nice. Cold in the winter but that’s the best way to experience it. Luck is always better in a beautiful country.”
He’s heard that winter in Siberia is a bitch actually. But sometimes human suffering and survival at the hands of nature is a beautiful thing. He’s Florida born and raised, and whilst the temperature gets pretty hot sometimes it’s nowhere near the weather in Iraq. And that place was fucking beautiful.
“Yeah, sometimes it takes experiencing the hardships of someplace to appreciate the beauty in it.” David agrees sort of absentmindedly.
The stranger smiles, far wider at that than anything he’s said before.
“Henry Girard.”
There’s no handshakes, just a name in warm orange lighting and a dangerous show of teeth. Maybe that’s what confuses David because all he says in response is, “What?”, before it fully clicks for him and then he stutters out, “S-sorry. That was just- a bit unexpected.”
Meeting Henry. Fucking. Girard. The guy that’s rumored to have sold weapons to every war the US has had hands in and everything they don’t even know about until he’s shipped off thousands of goods. Safe to say it was more than unexpected. The Godfather of the arms business sitting in an average uppity casino restaurant in Vegas with a kid who barely makes thirty percent on contracts.
Finally he gathers his wits, or what’s left of them, and says in return, “David Packouz. It’s a pleasure to meet you, uh, sir.”
“None of that.” Henry Fucking Girard waves off.
The man who fuels war itself pauses before telling him the next bit, in a lower, more serious voice, “As much as I’ve enjoyed our conversation, David, I approached you with a proposition in mind.”
The words cut somewhere low and Henry gives him a very intense look. Something that makes him feel very nervous. Forget everything he’s ever thought about Efraim, this was the true Devil. This was the offer of knowledge in the form of something so sweet it could hardly be ignored.
He swallows, “Yes?”
“I’ve heard you asking around to fill up a large contract of yours.”
And yeah, it would probably be notable to see two ‘barely out of high school’ and ‘probably college dropouts’ wandering around the Vegas X for the latest military tech in bulk.
“You must’ve also heard that the luck hasn’t been so good on that then?” He says a bit cheekily, trying to shake some of his nerves.
Henry’s lips quirk a bit and that really does wonders for the amount of anxiety that must be wafting off of David right now.
“And I’m here to change your fortunes.”
And Henry explains.
It’s pure fucking madness. Or at least it feels like it. He’s sitting across from Henry Girard, who is explaining how he can supply AEY with one hundred million rounds of AK-47 ammunition and everything else they need for the Afghan deal.
“That sounds great and all but what do you get out of this? Why not just do everything yourself? Aside from the fact that we have the contract, why go out of your way like this? This isn’t some experimental altruistic venture of yours, is it?” He feels like he’s rambling but he just needs to know why Henry Girard would give a fuck about contract like this when his dealings are the stuff of legends.
He gets a wry look in return before he’s answered, “I'm barred from doing any business with the U. S. government. I’m on a watch list.”
The shock of it hits almost as hard as learning the stranger he had been talking to for more than half an hour had been Henry Girard.
A million more questions run through his mind but he needs to clarify, “Like, a terrorist watch list?”
Henry gives a shallow nod in return and David picks up his half forgotten mojito. He takes a sip and lets the flavor of the mint wash over him. He likes mojitos, they’re very refreshing. He needs something to snap him away from his thoughts that are now running a mile a minute with all the horrible outcomes that even having this conversation will lead to.
He thinks that it wouldn’t be so bad. Dealing with the devil like this. What’s the worst to lose? Everything he owns? It would only be the second time. Even his life isn’t worth as much as his condo when he really thinks about it. But that’s now, who’s to know what he’ll feel like when he’s groveling at the hands of some mobsters getting ready to curbstomp his skull. He remembers the anti-drug assemblies in school. They always said the same thing, ‘marajuana is a gateway drug’ and after that it was a slippery slope to addiction and then death. And David sort of thinks he stepped sideways instead of forwards in that whole prediction. He got arrested for buying marajuana and got addicted to something far worse. The promises of living in the hands of dangerous men. The promise of heat in his veins.
He isn’t sure, he still isn’t sure. David’s been doing this for what, a couple of months? Maybe a year? He’s sure that Efraim’s never dealt with anyone as significant and he has no idea what to do.
“Let me-”, he stops and licks his lips, Henry gives him that same intense look that he’s had since the beginning of the conversation, “Let me talk to my partner.”
“Be my guest.” he says easily and gestures a hand lazily, “However, I don’t have much time. I have a dinner to get to.”
David nods mutely in response and tries calling Efraim four times. Straight to voicemail. It’s been four minutes and although Henry sits there patiently David knows there’s a limit to his goodwill.
He heads back over to the table, “I’m sorry. Give me fif-ten. Ten minutes. I’ll run to his room.”
He’s got to be flushed with stress right now. A gross mess, but Henry just tells him, “Ten minutes. But if you can’t find him,” he pauses and slides him a card, “call me.”
He takes the card, thanks the man and the Heavens alike and runs like he’s in a goddamn marathon. When he reaches Efraim’s hotel room he can feel sweat dripping and bangs madly at the door.
Finally the door opens and all he can say is, “Efraim!”
“What’s up, bro?” and wow does David want to punch him in the face.
He feels a rage burn up within him, because here he is, having the most important conversation in AEY’s arms dealing history, and his partner can’t even be bothered to answer the phone.
“Where have you been? Why aren’t you answering your phone?”
Efraim glances back, “I’m with a prostitute. What’s up?”
The anger rises up again but he ignores it because it’s Henry Fucking Girard and Efraim will not mess up the biggest deal of either of their goddamn lives right now.
“Henry Girard is waiting in the bar. Get dressed, we’ve got seven minutes.”
“Get the fuck out of here.” his disbelief is palpable and David would be right there with him if this wasn’t so important.
“I’m dead serious. Get fucking going.”
“Shit.” is all Efraim says back before closing the door and popping right back out two minutes later. The longest two minutes of his life.
They make it down to the bar with thirty seconds to spare. Both of them are flushed red but David looks like he was caught in a surprise downpour. He decides that he can’t look any worse so he pushes his hair back and undoes a few buttons of his dress shirt and ditches the tie completely in one of the nearby hotel trash cans.
They reach the table Henry sits at, drinking his stupidly expensive alcohol, and David simply says, “Henry.”
It comes out more breathy than he wants or expects but the older man’s eyes flick to him immediately. They pin him with the same intensity as when he was making the offer of a lifetime initially.
“David.” he says back.
“Henry Girard, it’s an absolute pleasure to meet you. I’m Efraim Diveroli, CEO of AEY.”
The two of them sit down and the entire conversation is repeated, aside from whatever was talked about prior to Henry’s proposal. The talk is fairly quick and to the point and it ends somewhere before even ten minutes have passed, less time spent actually speaking than it took to fetch Efraim.
“Thank you very much, Henry. You’ve given us a lot to think about tonight. We’ll get back to you when we reach a consensus.” Efraim says and it feels like David’s barely had a chance to catch his breath.
“I’m gone tomorrow at ten.” He says back and adds, “David has my number.”
Henry must give some sort of acknowledgement because Efraim is leaving. David steps out of the booth, the other man following him.
“Thank you for the opportunity, Henry.” he says, feeling a bit lost.
What else is there to say? Something like ‘thank you for the opportunity to make money I couldn’t even dream of before’ or ‘I really enjoyed our conversation’? He doesn’t know, so he doesn’t say anything else. He turns to leave, follow Efraim like he always does, but Henry catches his wrist. There’s warm puffs of air on his neck reminiscent of their Siberia talk, although he can’t taste it anymore.
“If you ever find yourself looking for other opportunities to change your fortune.” He pauses, his voice dipping low and almost unhearable, “Give me a call. You have my number, David, use it.”
And then his wrist is let go and Henry Girard is walking out of the bar. David is quick to leave as well. He wants to pass out in his shitty hotel bed but he needs to talk to Efraim because if there’s ever a time he would actually need to know what he’s thinking it figures that beyond agreeing, David’s got no clue what the guy wants to do. He checks his phone and there’s a message from him, surprisingly.
‘Meet in my room in 10’
And at a call, David follows. They don’t really talk all that long either. Maybe twenty minutes. They don’t have the time to actually work out details and specifics but they do discuss the deal itself. How Henry is a bit of a Godsend, although David privately thinks of it more as a very rewarding deal with the Devil, how they’ll accept so long as there aren't any absurd requests like going fifty-fifty on the profits, but mostly about how they’ll be the fucking biggest gangsters in Yeshiva again or whatever the war dog equivalent is.
The next morning they show up at Henry’s hotel room. Penthouse. It took some actual debate. Mostly internally for David, although he did mention some of his hesitation to Efraim.Texting Henry Girard that they thought the deal through and would like to work together was definitely way too unprofessional, but sending a letter was just fucking weird. Showing up at his hotel door unannounced was also awful but Efraim was sort of dead set on showing that they wouldn’t be ‘no one’s bitches’ and ‘take no shit’ which wasn’t really what they were dealing with so whilst David caved with appearing at Henry’s room, he also called the hotel to ask them if they could let him know they would be coming over. The day was a weird mix between ‘this is a disaster’ and ‘holy shit this is going to be amazing’.
Henry opened the door in nothing but dark gray underwear. David stared at the blatant show of skin, the light touches of hair lining his body, the dip of his muscles. He looked very different without glasses. A little more open and amiable, maybe. David couldn’t really think about it. His eyes were caught on a little paler section on Henry’s chest. A scar or something. He wondered if it was the sort of smoother scar tissue.
“Hey, boys.” he greeted, looking at David the same way he has been doing for what feels like the whole goddamn trip.
It’s gotta mean something. He can’t be this intense all the time, for every damn deal he makes, or he’d explode. David feels like he’s going crazy thinking about it.
Either Efraim didn’t notice or didn’t care because he started talking without any issue, “So, we’ve discussed it. And we’d like to move forward.”
There was a woman in Henry’s room that David hadn’t noticed before. She was very attractive and it was very clear what was going down before they had arrived. He felt even more of his brain pour onto the ‘this is a disaster’ side of the scale.
Henry’s eyes finally left David and moved to look at Efraim saying a bit more evenly, “Fantastic.”, before coming back to him once more and lowly giving the two of them, maybe just David, an inviting, “Congratulations.”
“But we have to see the merchandise.” Efraim adds, attempting to sound confident but ending up rather anxious with his haste.
Henry doesn’t even spare him a glance, his eyes are still on David who still has no idea what any of it is supposed to mean or if it’s even supposed to mean anything.
“Oh, of course.” he gives back almost distractedly, but David knows that men like Henry are never truly unattentive.
Gaining more confidence with the agreement Efraim says, “On-site, in person.”
It might sound a bit like a demand but everyone is very aware that Henry holds all the cards here. That if Henry were to refuse AEY might still agree with the sketchiest deal they’d ever do just to make a couple millions. The math sort of adds up. Weighing jail time and whatnot with that much cash, it really does add up.
“You guys ever been to Albania?”
It’s reminiscent of their conversation yesterday. When they were just two strangers to David, and an opportunity to Henry. He somewhat wants to ask about the differences between the country and former Soviet states. Apparently it was really cold and never officially a part of the USSR but similar things have been said about other places and conflicting things have been said about it.
Before he can do more than open his mouth, Efraim speaks up again, “I’ll be honest, until last night I didn’t even know it was a real fucking country.”
David feels a slight expression of horror creep onto his face. He’s been going through more emotional tidal waves in the last couple of hours than he has his entire life. It’s just so- fucking stupid. Efraim needs to reel in the confidence because that’s definitely the sort of answer you get from some kid of a millionaire who knows dick but thinks they’re the shit. The second that thought hits him David realizes that this might be exactly like Yeshiva. Or maybe it’s all a part of the act that Efraim’s pulling off. Which makes it almost worse because this is the most important meeting in either of their lives and Efraim’s decided that this is who Henry wants him to be, which might be the most off the mark the guy has ever been.
“It’s a beautiful place.” Henry’s words bring David back to the conversation, hopefully with less blatant dread on his face, “Come on in. I’ll call my guy.”
They enter the suite and David feels like it’s a very awkward ‘meet the parents’ dinner. The imposition has his skin crawling and Henry’s lack of clothing makes him feel both underdressed and overdressed at the same time. The pretty woman who was sitting on the coach leaves at Henry’s motion with a bit of displeasure and David wants to apologize because the two of them have certainly ruined what would otherwise have been a very pleasurable start to the day.
Sometime between when Efraim and David were ushered inside and sat down at a stunning mahogany table, Henry put on a pure white hotel housecoat. It does hardly anything, leaving his chest on display and dipping dangerously low from what David can see as his eyes trail down. Eventually he reaches a knot where the garment is tied at the waist. He can still see the dark gray color of Henry’s boxer-briefs peeking out at the top.
“So, this Albania guy…” Efraim begins and they talk business.
Once the details are sorted out and AEY parts ways. Efraim leaves the suite but David is standing in the kitchen, his outermost layer shed long ago and collar undone again. It’s starting to become a bad habit that he somehow does exclusively around the most powerful man David’s ever met.
Everything’s mostly sorted, when the two of them will fly off to Albania to meet the supplier, how the sale is going to work and the estimated price, but one question still sits at the tip of his tongue, burning hot. Henry leans against the island, his arms resting behind him on the granite as he gazes at David.
He licks his lips, suddenly feeling very much like an antelope in front of a lion, “You never said, exactly, what you get out of this. You mentioned that you were barred from doing business with the U. S. government but we never even discussed a profit percentage.”
Henry gives him a dangerous smile and David regrets asking, “I didn’t say.”, then he says slower and more meaningfully, “Clever.”
David’s sure that his posture has gone brittle all of a sudden so he brushes a hand through his hair to ease the tension.
Henry says nothing until after the motion has ceased, “I make a considerable profit as the liaison between you and the Albanian government for everything sold.”
He dips closer and now David can feel moisture on his neck and smell extravagant coffee in the air.
“They might even think that you’re one of mine.”
David shivers unconsciously. It’s part shameful, part confusing, and part something else. Henry makes a pleased noise, like a deep hum and David lets out an embarrassing shaky breath in response.
He doesn’t say more but that’s all David needs to know and all that he can really concentrate on at the moment. He can rest easier knowing that Henry physically gains something with the trade rather than living with the ominous possibility of him coming to collect.
“Thank God for that.”
Henry doesn’t give him a response back and it feels as if the conversation is coming to a close so David takes a look around the room before finding his suit jacket and making his way to gather it up. He’s noticed that as he slides it back on that Henry’s moved much closer. David can’t feel his breath on the back of his skin but the hairs on the back of his neck stand up with their proximity.
“Remember what I said. You have my number.” Henry tells him quietly.
David leaves Vegas in a whirlwind of emotions. He comes back to Miami with the same ones, which makes it even more confusing to come back to Iz’s waiting arms. He hugs her, kisses her, tells her that he missed her. The sort of song and dance that you see on TV. When he looks at her, she seems happy to see him but also upset at their distance both physically and more so emotionally these days. She has this sort of look in her eyes. It's deep and not like the one he gave her after his relationship with his parents was a fresh wound, the one the blind man had given Christ after he had ‘cured him of his ailment’. It’s like she knows he’s mortal and knows that he’s flawed and loves him nonetheless. Maybe even because of it. You can’t be equal to a God. She clings onto him at night like she always has but it feels closer now. It all feels like she doesn’t want David to be her boyfriend either anymore.
He stumbles out of bed at two-thirty in the morning one time. He feels sick, nauseous, and he wants to throw up and cry. The vomit never comes but the tears fall which sucks because when he decided to join hands with Efraim and become everything his parents’ hated he didn’t really mean every last thing. He takes a shower because he feels gross and the nausea isn’t going away so at least the vomit will go down the drain and not on the floor or any bedsheets.
Light starts to flow into the condo at around quarter to six, so he puts on a sweater and heads out to the beach. Hardly anyone is out there and whilst the breeze is certainly chilly, mostly from the water, it’s refreshing and being outside makes him feel much better. By the time he gets back inside, thinking about finally making something to eat it’s somewhere near seven. He stumbles around the kitchen for a bit and maybe all the noise wakes Iz because she comes down the stairs, dressed in PJs and sporting some wild bedhead.
She yawns and looks like she’s about to say something, maybe a simple ‘good morning’ or even a ‘you’re up early’ but David beats her to it.
“I need to go to Albania for a few weeks. Maybe a month.”
Eggs sizzle in the pan, scrambled because it’s a lot easier. There’s no sound but her face tells a story anyways. Sort of distraught, angered, and resigned all at once. He gets it.
“And after that?”
It isn’t a real question. It’s said sarcastically. Or like, with attitude, because she’s still annoyed.
“After that I don’t know” ‘I don’t know if there should be an after that for us’ he doesn’t say and David doesn’t know what he’s holding out for.
Maybe a part of him actually loves her because he wants to spare her feelings, like if he doesn’t ever say it he won’t hurt her even if she knows what he isn’t telling her. But that just means that he doesn’t love her in the way that he should, which would mean there’s even more stuff wrong with him.
“You’re never around anymore, David! I don’t like your job but I thought that I would at least have more time to spend with my boyfriend if we weren’t struggling for money all the time!” her voice is raised but she isn’t yelling.
He didn’t know what he expected with dealing arms internationally. More money, certainly, but he didn’t think much beyond what that would mean except for the fact that there would be less stress about paying bills now that they could actually afford things. He didn’t think that it would mean there would be more time to spend with Iz, he didn’t even realize that was something she wanted from him.
He says as much, “I still have a job to do. Despite making more money, I’ve still got to put in the same amount of effort, if not more! There’s expectations!”
“What about my expectations?!” she still isn’t yelling, just an accusatory and frustrated tone.
“What do you expect?!” he says back, just as frustrated and somewhat bitter.
Why can’t she just tell him what she wants, what she expects? Then he could know exactly how he could never be any of the things she wants. Then he would know why she would scream at him, telling him to pack his bags and be out of the house because she wouldn’t let someone like him leech of her. Then he could taste disappointment twice.
“David,” she says gentler, angry but still gentle as she reaches out a hand, and he flinches.
She pauses but it doesn’t deter her. She takes hold of his own had and he feels like running back to the beach.
“David,” Iz repeats, “What do you think we’re doing together?”
And he has no clue what she’s talking about. Arguing? Is that what she wants him to say?
His confusion likely shows because she says, “Are we not building a life together?”
She stops almost entirely. Her eyes are glassy and he’s never hated looking at her more. He doesn’t want to watch as tears threaten to fall and she holds onto his arm like a lifeline.
“Do you-” she starts, chokes on a sob, before continuing sounding like she’s being stabbed all the while, “Do you not- do you not want this?”
He freezes. He’s entirely rigid and she can feel it. Iz looks up at him with pleading eyes and he really doesn’t want to look back at her but David feels like she deserves this honesty from him.
It comes out quietly, his voice a hoarse whisper, “I don’t know.”
He’s in Albania and out of a relationship. It doesn’t feel as freeing as he hoped it would be. Things are tenuous with Iz. Officially, they’re not exactly ‘broken up’ but neither are they exactly ‘together’ at the moment. David regrets everything. He hopes that this is just a phase and that he’ll eventually come back to wanting her to love him as desperately as he did when he had nothing. He doesn’t know what Iz wants. He never did. She’s staying with her mother right now.
Albania is as cold as everyone says it is, but to a Floridian who hardly ever sees snow it seems a bit like a winter wonderland. Henry was right about the beauty.
The two of them get the ammunition amongst everything else on the Afghan list, all sold at such low prices it feels like they’re robbing the Albanians. But it’s a mutual thing. The Albanians want to join NATO and need to get rid of the cold war weaponry they have on hand, the equipment is also old and not the best quality. Both sides are getting a good deal out of this, but David’s unsure who’s actually getting the better one.
It ends up being the Albanians who were getting the better deal. They’ve bought over a hundred million rounds of AK ammunition. They’ve bought over a hundred million rounds of Chinese-made AK ammunition, of which is illegal to be sold to the U. S. government. They’re fucked.
“We’re fucked, David. We’re fucking fucked!” Efraim yells into the biting winter air.
David runs a gloved hand through his hair in agreement. This was it. This was the ‘lose everything’ moment.
“Fucking call Henry or something! Shit!” Efraim yells once more.
He storms off before David can do anything which is good because now he can’t watch as David doesn’t do that. They fucked up. They bought a hundred million rounds of illegal Chinese ammunition and it’s not Henry’s fault. They checked out one goddamn crate and decided everything was good as if the Albanians weren’t desperate to get rid of their stockpiles and wouldn’t hide anything that meant the sale didn’t go through. So as much as Henry seemed to like David, at the end of the day it was business.
“Fuck.” he says to himself and pulls out his phone.
It’s a monumentally stupid decision but he’s just so full of emotion. Not even anger, just pure emotion and he doesn’t know what to do with it other than call Henry or jump off a building.
“Henry.” he says when hears someone pick up.
“David?” there’s a slight questioning sound in his voice.
“Did you know about the ammo?” he says accusingly and in a rush.
There’s a brief pause before Henry’s voice turns sterner and more serious, “What?”
“I just- the ammo. Did you know that it was Chinese?”
The silence remains for longer this time.
“No.” is all the response he gets for a moment before it continues, “You didn’t check?” and it’s dark and a bit mean, like he’s scolding a child, which David basically is in this business.
And David lets out the manic sort of laugh that he held in when they were in Iraq, “One crate. One fucking crate and now we have over a hundred million worthless rounds of ammo.”
His breathing is harsh, panting now because he just realized that he was practically shouting into the phone.
There’s more silence until David can muster up enough air in his lungs to speak again, “Fuck- sorry. Shit. It’s just- it’s not your problem. You didn’t know and we fucked up. Shit- sorry.”
“David.” Henry says his name like he’s tasting it and he can’t deal with anything else right now.
“Look, I’ve got- I’ve got to figure this out. Sorry about calling you, Henry.” David announces before he can say anything else, so he can stop Henry from saying anything else.
Maybe he can sense it from across the line or something because Henry allows him this and merely tells him, “Good luck.”
“Thanks.” he says back and lets it linger for a few seconds before hanging up.
David wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries like ‘goodbye’ and he hopes that Henry understands.
Eventually they get things sorted. They talk to some guy with a packaging company that David’s driver knows and this becomes the leap. This is the point where they won’t just fall, this is the moment that any mistake becomes a drop off into a canyon. This is the point where David commits to selling illegally repackaged Chinese ammunition to the goddamn Pentagon. If they pull it off it’ll be the heist of the fucking century. And if they don’t. Well, David doesn’t think beyond ‘the two of them will go to jail’.
Efraim goes back to Miami to manage AEY on a day to day business, focusing on other contracts and whatnot, whilst David freezes his ass off in Albania and watches over the progress of what is either ‘a hot mess’ or ‘the greatest thing he’s ever done’ depending on the day, the moon cycle, or the ocean’s currents. Things do look up though. However seeing the inside of a concrete cell is still a very likely possibility so not everything is peachy.
Things were decidedly not peachy when one day Efraim calls him in a rage, “That motherfucker is paying two and a half cents per round!”
The time difference meant that David woke up in the middle of the night, blearily reaching for his phone and confused. His lack of answer didn’t seem to deter Efraim’s fury because he continued on like David understood any of what was going on.
“He’s charging us a four hundred percent mark-up!”
It hits him like a warm shower. He’s not entirely there and it soaks into his head with the help of vague associations until David realizes that they’re somehow talking about Henry and business. Efraim is still sort of ranting and that gives David time to actually think about what he’s complaining about. Two and a half cents per round. Ammunition. The AK ammunition. Right, of course. Henry has to be making money as the ‘liaison’ somehow and it’s not like the Albanian government would really like to be paying some guy just to find someone else to buy everything. Besides, they wouldn’t be making very much if they had to pay some advisor or some shit and only be making two and a half cents per round.
Well, it might actually add up but it’s not adding up in his brain right now so all he responds with is, “Yeah? So, what? We do the same thing?”
It’s half an appeal to Efraim to shut the fuck up so David can go back to sleep and half a reminder that he’s being stupid. Why get pissed at something that’s really just the name of the game. It’s how the entire arms business works. Dealers buy the merchandise for cheaper than they sell it. Who cares if there’s a middle man if AEY still stands to make millions? It was a great goddamn deal until Efraim found out they were paying more than what it would be directly from the source but they wouldn’t have been able to buy directly from the source. It’s just so stupid that he wants to reach through the phone and strangle the guy.
“Yeah, but this is our contract!” Efraim continues, “And we almost lost it because of him and his Chinese fucking bullets!”
There’s a myriad of things that David wants to say in response to that. Like, ‘it’s the Albanian’s Chinese fucking bullets’ and ‘we’re the ones who didn’t check the crates so we almost lost it because we fucked up’. He doesn’t say any of this because Efraim doesn’t take shit from anyone which incidentally means that he doesn’t take any critique or responsibility.
He settles for a more neutral, “But we didn’t lose it.”
There’s some noise that sounds like office supplies being thrown around but David doesn’t really care enough to decipher it before Efraim’s back at it again, “That’s not the point! I want to figure out a way to cut this cocksucker out of the deal.”
And wow, holy fuck. David is wide awake now. Not only wouldn’t there not even be a deal without Henry, he’s also, y’know, Henry. The guy who has a reputation for keeping civil wars in motion just by supplying the losing side until they’re winning and then swapping sides for maximum profit. The guy they say supplied the rope they hung Saddam Hussein with. Even if it wasn’t Henry Fucking Girard that Efraim wanted to cut out of the deal, it would still be a powerful man that has been more than generous with them. Henry could be asking for a percentage of the profit on top of what he’s making because without him there would be no contract. It’s all such a monumentally bad idea that David almost can’t believe that’s what he just heard. Then again, he can believe it because that’s the exact reason he lives in Efraim’s orbit. The stupid ideas like driving through the Triangle of Death and even becoming an arms dealer in the first place.
“Efraim, stop.” His tone leaves no room for argument.
He’s not fucking around anymore and he continues, “I’m serious, man. We’re making money. He’s making money. The whole thing is fucking working, don’t mess with it!”
His voice has picked up in volume by the end of it but Efraim is relentless.
“I don’t give a fuck. He’s ripping us off! You don’t need to suck his dick so hard, David.”
There’s a fire blazing inside his veins. His heart is thumping like a jackrabbit. He’s angry, pissed even, but it’s been so long since he’s felt so alive. It’s like he’s a burning star one second away from a supernova.
“Look, I’m serious, man. If you pull that shit, I'm going to be on the next flight out of here.”
The silence rings in his ears. Efraim has finally stopped talking but it doesn’t feel like a victory. It feels an awful lot like how David thinks Icarus’ dad had felt warning his son, except this time the dad’s coming down with him.
“Bro, you don’t have to threaten me, alright? I’m your partner.”
It wasn’t even a threat. Well, it was, but not the way Efraim is making it seem like it is. It’s a simple ‘you fuck us over for something so petty and I’ll fuck us over too’. Efraim always does this. It gets good and it’s all because of him, the very Heavens quake at his sheer power and might. But when things get bad, when there’s a problem, it’s all on David.
He’s so sick of this bullshit that he yells back, “Well, it doesn’t always feel like that! I found this deal and I’m over here doing all the work while you’re in Miami trying to sabotage it!”
“How am I sabotaging it?” Efraim says, not quietly but calmly.
It’s threatening but David carries on because for once he’d like to take no shit.
“By trying to fuck over Henry the way you fuck over everybody else!”
There’s more silence. The air feels still in the hotel room. It’s dry and sort of gross and David really wants to open the balcony door but it’s like negative forty out and he’s not keen on getting frostbite at twelve in the morning.
Finally Efraim speaks again, “You’re right. Henry’s our partner. He’s the reason we got this deal. I was just looking out for us, but I took it too far.”
Which is more bullshit. He wasn’t ‘looking out for them’ but it’s the closest thing to an apology or admittance or wrong that David’s going to get so when Efraim says, “Don’t sweat it, bro. I’ll leave it alone.”
All he says back is, “Thank you. We can’t push our luck with this shit, man.”
“Alright. I’ll talk to you soon. Bye.”
It didn’t sound like everything was ‘alright’ but it was the best it was going to be so David took it with a grain of salt.
He almost doesn’t want to go back to sleep. He wants to have a shower to get rid of the waxy feel of his skin or take a jog to clear his mind, but he has to wake up in a couple of hours and get back to work so he pulls the covers back over himself and falls into a shaky rest.
There’s a loud bang, which should have grabbed David’s attention but the first thing he notices is that it’s much lighter than it was before. Still not very late in the day but it’s certainly been a couple of hours since that phone call.
Suddenly there are two masked figures at his bed and he’s shouting, “Woah, what the fuck?! Hey!”
They ignore him and as David attempts to slip between them, he’s shoved onto the ground.
He’s on his side and kicking out, yelling, “Fuck! Stop!”, before he’s flipped onto his stomach.
There’s a knee on his back, squeezing the air out of his lungs, and a hand holding his head into the carpeted floor. The other figure grabs his arms and ties them with something somewhat rope-like before there’s a bag on his head.
They pull him up and push him through the hotel room. For a place that he’s spent nearly two weeks in, it suddenly feels completely foreign. He knows to watch out for the coffee table by the washroom when he stumbles around in the dark after waking up with the urge to pee but he runs into it on the way out anyway. The pain erupts in his shin, bright and hot. It distracts him somewhat from what’s happening to him as he’s shoved out the hotel in nothing but his boxers and a t-shirt. His feet hit cold laminate flooring and then absolutely freezing snow. It bites into the soles of his feet as he flails and they eventually begin to numb.
He’s thrust forward and forced into the trunk of some car before being left there as the engine starts. He can feel the rumble of the vehicle, humming, and he focuses on that and the throbbing in his leg. His heart pumps in pace with the wound, faster than the phone call with Efraim. It feels like his feet are frostbitten with how cold they are but he doesn’t make a sound.
When he’s pulled out and onto the ground, David’s vaguely thankful that they aren’t on any ice or snow. They rip the bag off and he’s blinded. His eyes sting and water from the sensation before they begin to adjust to the light. He can’t see anything yet so it’s all the more surprising when pain slams into his face and then he’s falling to the asphalt. It scrapes at his face, his hands, and all the other bits of exposed skin that touch it.
He’s focused on the feeling of ‘warm-cold-stinging’ so he doesn’t pay any attention to the sound of another car until he hears shoes approaching his crumpled form. He glances up, assuming it to be another hooded figure preparing to hit him, but it’s just Henry. He’s so blindsided by the entire thing that he pushes himself up onto his knees. As soon as he gets up there’s a gun laid on his forehead. The metal is hard and unforgiving.
“Did you really think you could cut me out of my own deal?” And his voice is dark and unyielding.
Some foreign feeling runs through him. There’s a gun to his head and he’s going to fucking die but there’s electric in his body. The words don’t process.
He’s lost and all he can do is voice that confusion, “W-what?”
His throat is raw and as he spoke it came out both high pitched and gravelly.
Henry pushes the gun more into his head, tilting it back, and there really isn’t anything in his eyes that puzzles David anymore because it’s all flat and angered.
“Did you.” he repeats, controlled and deadly, “really think you could cut me out of my own deal?”
The morning comes rushing back to him all at once. Then, thoughts begin to drain back into his brain. The conversation with Efraim. Fuck. He promised David and whilst he didn’t expect all that much he certainly didn’t expect getting kidnapped by Albanian mobsters and being held at gunpoint by the guy Efraim was fucking over. Briefly, David spares some thought for Henry’s efficiency and whether he was already in Albania or somehow got here in only a couple of hours.
“I- I don’t. Didn’t.”, he licks his dry, chapped lips.
“Please I-”, he begins again because David is not above begging, “I fucking told him it was stupid. Told him I’d walk if he did.”
Henry holds the gun there. A moment goes by and then, “Leave.”
The masked Albanians scurry off, albeit more menacingly, but Henry keeps a bullet pointed right between David’s eyes, ready to shoot.
“Why did Diveroli try to cut me out?”
Henry’s intensity burns into him and all he can say back is the dumb truth, “He found out about the four hundred percent markup.”
“That’s the name of the fucking game, Packouz.” Henry bites out and it sounds weird not being called ‘David’.
“Told him that too.” he mutters out demurely, almost like a petulant child.
“Did you?” he asks back and although there’s hints of rage, it’s mostly amused sounding.
“Yeah.” David pushes out the word in a cloud of hot breath turned visible in the cold, a visual representation of his relief.
The gun pulls away from where it rests on his forehead, leaving behind a tingling sensation. David’s head falls forwards. It only rests there a second before metal digs into his neck and pushes his chin up so that his eyes are forced to meet Henry’s once more.
“You’re wasted at AEY” he says, “With a guy like Diveroli who both makes the messes and makes you clean them up. All for nothing but scraps.”
With those words, David gains a bit of confidence, getting almost cocky with his words despite the finger being held on a trigger aimed right at his throat.
“Thinking of- thinking of going back to Miami and strangling him with my own fucking hands.”
Henry bends over so that their breath is intermingling and David can taste tobacco, but the expensive kind that comes in foreign cigars and shit.
“Why don’t you stay with me, David? I could use a man like you.”
He sees the same look that he didn’t understand at the bar or in Henry’s suite and finally realizes that it’s attraction. He thinks about Iz and how maybe she still wants him but also how she’s never wanted him like this. Dark and rough and like she wants to eat him. He thinks about that last argument with his parents, the one where they cut him off and he decided to be everything they hated, and he sees Henry and knows this is exactly what they would’ve gutted him for if they could actually see it instead of just hearing the rumors about. He looks at Henry and sees the promise of sin in a face so sweet.
He speaks, more than an agreement but a vow. One to not fall into a canyon but jump off a cliff. One of trust and something a bit more.
“Sure.”