Page 2 of Vapor

I chose to wear a Henley, my cut, and faded jeans on purpose. I wanted to see how he’d respond to my club attire.

“There’s no need,” he says dismissively.“Come, sit.”

I slide into the booth opposite him. A second later, a cocktail waitress appears.

“Have a drink with me. The usual, Cassie.” Broussard flashes his pearly whites at the waitress, who blushes.

“Of course, Mr. Broussard. And for your guest?”

“W.L. Weller, 12 year.”

“Excellent choice,” he says.“You have good taste.”

“Not bad for a biker, hmm?” I lean back in the booth and spread my arms across the top of it. I prefer beer, but I memorized his favorite drink. It was easy enough to figure it out after reading through the NOLA society pages online. He’d been photographed holding a glass with an accompanying caption about how much he loves top shelf bourbon.

“So, tell me why you’re here,” he says, getting right to the point.

“My sources tell me you’re very good at moving money around.” I pause to gauge his reaction. He doesn’t seem surprised at all. Makes sense. What other business would I have with him?

“Go on.”

Cassie returns with two heavy crystal rock tumblers of amber liquid. After setting them on the table, she fixes a flirty gaze on Broussard.“Anything else?”

“Not at the moment. Later, maybe.”

“You know where to find me.” She saunters off, giving us both a show. Not a bad ass, but not my type.

“My club needs assistance moving cash into the banking system. We have various accounts set up offshore, but the amount of currency flowing through our businesses is still too high.”

“Congratulations on your success.”

“Couldn’t do it without my men.”

“Loyalty. Something rarely seen these days.”

“I’ve heard you’re very good at what you do.”

“I am.” He takes a sip of his drink before swirling the glass.“Where did you hear that?”

“Around.”

“Anyone in particular?”

“Of course, but discretion is important in our business. It’s not exactly a secret that you work with a variety of organizations. I’d like to add our club to your roster.”

“It’s unusual for a club to ask for outside assistance. Why do you feel the need?” He leans forward, steepling his fingers while keeping his elbows off the table.

“Like I said, we’re struggling to process all the cash. We can offer you a percentage, of course.”

“Naturally.”

“You’re a businessman and so am I. Let’s come to an agreement that will benefit us both.” I toss back the tumbler of whiskey, enjoying the way it burns down my throat and into my belly.

“I’m a very wealthy man. Why would I take on additional risk? A club like yours has many enemies, some of whom are my clients.” He crosses his arms over his chest before leaning back.

“Can you ever have enough money?” I ask, hoping to appeal to his greed.

“Never.” The smile that stretches across his face is genuine. My guess is that he never feels like he’s too far away from his humble beginning.