Chapter 75: Midtown Rosters
"I figured that possibility might come sooner or later," Ricky said, his voice dropping into a low, serious register. The constant, heavy rumble of the drayage traffic on Washington Street below suddenly felt a little louder through the window glass.
He leaned back in his oak swivel chair, his gray eyes locking onto his executive secretary. "So, did you do what I wanted you to do?"
Evelynn gave a crisp, professional nod, clutching her clipboard against her chest. "Yes, sir. I finalized the decoy lease paperwork with the brokers this morning and passed the dead-end addresses down to Danny. His counter-intelligence boys are already feeding the false locations to the Sergeant’s street rats." She paused, a rare look of genuine astonishment breaking through her calm demeanor. "I just couldn’t believe it happened exactly the way you said it would."
"Let’s just say I’m paranoid about things," Ricky said, picking up his lead pencil and spinning it smoothly between his fingers. "We shouldn’t ever be complacent with the things we do. We might control the market on Greenwich right now, but we’re not even halfway there. Not yet."
"No, we’re not, sir," Evelynn agreed quietly.
Ricky looked at her closely. Despite the pristine white blouse and her perfectly pinned dark hair, there was a faint tightness around her eyes. Her posture was perfectly straight, but Ricky could see the slight, heavy drag in her step from running the entire third and fourth floors by herself for the last week.
"Anyway, we’re getting sidetracked," Ricky said, setting the pencil down. "Now that I’m back, I can take over the administration and floor supervision for a while. Go ahead and take your paid day off, Evelynn. I can tell you’re exhausted just by the way you’re walking."
Evelynn paused. A slow, subtle smile touched her lips, completely shedding her strict corporate shell. She tilted her head, her green eyes flashing with sudden, playful amusement.
"Have you been watching how I walk that closely, sir?" she teased softly.
Ricky froze for a fraction of a second, his modern, strictly-business brain totally blindsided by the flirtation. He let out a dry, exasperated scoff, rubbing the back of his neck. "Don’t even start, Evelynn. I just need my executive secretary in top form, alright?"
Evelynn’s smile widened into a brilliant, triumphant grin. "I’ll take you up on your offer then, Mr. Stevenson. I promise I’ll be in my absolute top form when I come back."
She gave him a sharp, deliberate wink, turned on her heel, and walked out of the office. The sway of her dark wool skirt and the crisp, rhythmic click of her heels against the pine floorboards were undeniably, deliberately seductive as she headed down the hall.
Ricky stared at the empty doorway for a long second, shaking his head in sheer disbelief. "What’s with that woman?" he muttered under his breath, reaching for a fresh stack of route ledgers.
Before he could even open the first book, a heavy pair of boots pounded down the hallway.
Arthur Murphy filled the doorway, his broad face breaking into a massive, excited grin the moment he laid eyes on Ricky. "Boss!"
Arthur stepped into the office, grabbing Ricky’s right hand in a firm, street-style grip before pulling him into a heavy, back-slapping, brotherly hug. Ricky laughed, returning the heavy pats before they broke apart.
"How was the trip uptown?" Arthur asked eagerly, dropping his heavy frame into the wooden chair opposite Ricky’s desk. "How’re the ladies of high society looking? They smell as good as the magazines say?"
Ricky raised his hands defensively, overwhelmed by the barrage of questions. "Whoa, whoa. One question at a time, man."
Ricky leaned back, a knowing smirk touching his lips as he remembered the chaotic scene in the Plaza Hotel lounge. "You wouldn’t believe what happened up there, Arthur."
Arthur leaned forward on his elbows, his dark eyes wide with eager curiosity. "Yeah? What?"
"Well," Ricky chuckled, "Marek got himself surrounded. Three high-society debutantes in silk gowns. They basically swarmed him at the bar, fighting over who got to pour his tea and listen to him talk."
Arthur’s jaw literally dropped. He stared at Ricky in pure, unadulterated shock. "Three of ’em? Fighting over Marek? That skinny Polish kid?"
"I’m telling you," Ricky laughed. "You should talk to him when he wakes up. He got a crash course in the unwritten rules of high society. Maybe he’ll tell you a few things about how the wealthy ladies operate up there."
Arthur shook his head, a fiercely ambitious glint lighting up his eyes. "You know that I will. I’m old enough to get married, Ricky, and if I’m gonna settle down, I gotta make sure I pull a lady from a rich uptown family with a parlor and a piano!"
Ricky smiled, watching Arthur’s enthusiasm. An idea clicked seamlessly into place in his logistical map.
"Say," Ricky started, leaning his forearms on the oak desk. "You wouldn’t have a problem leaving Greenwich Village every now and then, right?"
Arthur blinked, his smile turning curious. "Why?"
"Well," Ricky said smoothly, "I secured a few high-volume weekly delivery deals with several massive establishments in Midtown. Including the Waldorf-Astoria and two more hotels. You’ll get your chance to learn the rules of high society firsthand. Dressing formal, talking formal, being a proper gentleman... all that stuff."
Arthur’s face split into a brilliant, ear-to-ear grin. "Well, of course I don’t mind! I’ll be the one to drive those deliveries myself."
"I originally considered sending Jimmy and Michael," Ricky explained, "but since the Williams brothers did the vast majority of the aggressive sales down here while I was gone, I figured they need to keep riding that momentum in the Village for a while."
"That’s fine," Arthur nodded vigorously, fully agreeing with the tactical choice. "The Williams boys are the perfect hounds for street-level hustling. I admire their talent, and I respect how hard they push for the reward. I’ve never seen those four look so happy at the end of each shift."
"I’m glad they are," Ricky smiled. "But to handle the uptown drops, I need size, discipline, and muscle that knows how to wear a suit. You, Tom, and Simon, along with John Caldwell’s crew, will be assigned to run the Midtown deliveries starting tomorrow. Marek will be riding up front to guide you on where the drop points are. It might take a few days of going back and forth to establish the rhythm."
Arthur stood up, adjusting his suspenders with a proud, swaggering smirk. "A few days strolling the avenues in Midtown? The boys won’t mind that at all."
Suddenly, Arthur’s eyes widened. He slapped his forehead. "Oh, shit. I forgot about Tom! I rushed up here the second I heard you were back. I just told Tom I needed a quick break while we were greasing the wagon axles down in the yard!"
Before Arthur could even turn toward the door, a frantic, hurried voice echoed up the stairwell from the lower floors.
"Sir Arthur!" shouted one of the newly hired teenage field agents, his boots clattering loudly against the wood as he ran down the fourth-floor hallway. "Sir Thomas is looking for you down in the yard! Says he needs a hand with the leather traces!"
Arthur froze. He looked at the young recruit panting in the doorway, then slowly turned his head back to Ricky. His chest puffed out instantly, a massive, incredibly proud grin spreading across his broad face.
"See?" Arthur whispered to Ricky, pointing a thumb at his own chest. "I never believed I’d see the day someone called me ’sir.’ It’s officially that time of my life, Ricky."
Ricky couldn’t help but laugh out loud, waving his hand toward the door. "Just go, man. Go help Sir Thomas with the wagon."
Arthur gave a sharp, joyful salute and marched out of the office, his heavy boots booming down the hallway as he led the young recruit back to the yard.
Ricky watched him go, the sound of the busy, growing Syndicate echoing all around him. He shook his head, a warm smile lingering on his face as he reached for his ledger.
"These guys, really," Ricky muttered softly, dipping his pen into the inkwell as the morning sun climbed higher over Washington Street.