The sun has already set by the time Mat makes it to the 'Carolina' gentlemen's club, a small establishment in a dark poor corner of a dark poor highway. Street lamps are either burnt or they flicker and buzz randomly. A heap of trash bags lies accumulated almost in front of the neon-baring red brick old club.
Inside the dark moist venue lies the perfect lowlife habitat. Rough-looking gangsters play poker or talk to hookers at around ten small round tables or the three-footer corner old-school bar, tended by a yet another bum. Chicano rap music in the background and lung-filling cigar smoke complete a picture of complete decadence and deviation.
"What the hell am I doing here?", Mat thinks to himself as he looks around to find anything familiar.
Suddenly he feels alone, trapped in a situation that he cannot control or affect. His heart starts pumping as he realizes that following up on an unknown gang courier's call for a business meeting at that venue might not have been his brightest decision yet. Yet he feels exhilarated. It's been so long since he feared death. Adrenaline pumps burning adrenaline in his veins, faster and faster, his pupils dilate, his breathing heightens. He feels so alive! With an improved sense of the environment, he spots the table with the four meanest-looking gangsters who just happen to stare at him. One of them waves a gesture of invitation. Mat walks with a sense of audacity towards them.
They say something in Spanish and they laugh, probably at him. He doesn't like it, more so that he never got to learn the language. The 'alpha male' of the bunch is a slim dark serious-looking Mexican with a goatee and a weird hieroglyphic tattoo under his right eye. His designer boots and jeans combined with an ironed white shirt seemed somewhat out of context with the rest of the common-looking flock. The other three stand up and leave while eye-balling Mat.
"Sit, brother!", kindly instructs the well-groomed gang member. That accent is strange, he can't place it.
Mat plays it cool. He sits opposite his host and grabs one of the beers the others left behind on the table. He sips while thinking of any disease he should be worrying about. Too late.
"I am Hector and I called you here because I have a way out for you."
"A way out of what?", asks Mat with a fake mask of indifference. He feels dizzy, that was no ordinary beer.
"I know you work for Marty and his gang", Hector states. "And I know Marty. He's gona get you killed, brother."
An uncomfortable pause.
"I am not a man of many words so I will simply ask", Mat mumbles, the effect of the poorly brewed beer evident on his drowsy eyes. "What do you want?"
The polite gangster replies in momentary silence before answering. "I will tell you all about yourself and then you will see how serious I am about doing business with you. And then I'll offer a deal which you will find very, very beneficial, brother."
Hector smiles to reveal a gold front tooth.
the gold tooth should be important
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