“Come on, you don’t even want to get to know me?” He said. Apollo eyed him, he was ashamed to admit that he was not ugly. Or greasy. Or hairy like the movies had painted villains to be. He was rather handsome, he treated his staff right. He smiled and it was warm and homely and it only served to make Apollo angrier. Anger was coming onto him. Dion’s words were still in the back of his mind like a painful cyst.

“I like doing my business quick. How much product can you move within a month?” Apollo asked.

“A hundred fifty kilos, maybe.”

“That’s a lot for such a small town.”

“It’s all supply and demand.” Lovinski said. His hair was neat but the few strands that dangled above his right eye. “Why would you want to do business with us if we weren’t profitable?”

“You’re right.” Apollo said. “I can get some in by the week. We’ll supply, don’t worry about that.”

“Don’t you want a drink?” Lovinski waved for one of the girls to leave.

“No. I don’t drink.” Apollo said.

“That’s terrible.” He said. “The only men who don’t drink are men with secrets worth keeping.”

“And that’s why I don’t drink. Is there anything wrong with being secretive?”

“No, it’s not. Mr. Lorenzo.” He said. Apollo was afraid he had jerked at the fake name, even if it was the name he himself had given out days ago.

“It’s absolutely fine to be secretive if you’re with enemies.” Lovinski grabbed the woman's shoulder.

Apollo’s head was getting hot. Here was a small, handsome man, who made his wealth from the suffering of others and here was a Vicar, inhuman as could be. He could have snapped his neck at any moment, killed everyone in the room and it would not make Apollo feel comfortable. He felt like he lost in some way and leaned closer to Lovinski.

“Are you suspecting me?” Apollo said. “I’m not police. I promise.”

“I know you’re not. Because I know every cop in this town. Some FBI agents. Some CIA even.” He said. “But someone from the cartel would know about that, right? He would know how big of a business drug trafficking really is.” He smiled.

A girl came in and set down a drink in front of Apollo. Apollo felt the music on his skin like a strong surf and he was getting hotter. He felt the girl dancing behind him, and the small wafts of air come his way. He looked at Lovinski and his smile and took a sip, then gulp of the drink.

“It’s good.” Apollo said. It came to him immediately, the movements and the plan all at once. His muscles, flexed beneath his coat and his legs veiny underneath their socks as he planned it. And Mr. Lovinski smiled. He got closer to Apollo and took the drink in front of him. He finished it for Apollo, smiling.

Apollo stood.

He punched the first bodyguard he saw in the jaw and felt it snap out of place like a broken jigsaw. There was no rattle of his brain. His face turned and he was unconscious. Apollo reached to the other man with his hand and grabbed and felt two bullets enter his thigh but the glass was thick and to the crowd was too intoxicated to notice. Apollo slammed the second ones head into the pole and watched his unconscious body fall, the gun went off again and shot Apollo's foot.

But his body was healing and already he could not feel the pain. He picked up the pistol and felt Lovinski shooting at his back. He did not flinch. He only hurt for a moment and with precise hands dissected the gun and threw its pieces at the chameleon who peered in. It hit him in his temple and the veil of darkness was over his dazed eyes.

“I can’t believe I lost.” Apollo winced. The bullet casings were coming out of his back and rolling on the floor and the women could not move as Apollo came closer to Lovinski and his shaking hands that fiddled for another clip.

“What are you?” He asked.

“Give me a list of names of all your LSD dealers. Last name, first name. And tell me how much product each of these fuckers moves.”

“Fuck you. I’m not saying shit.” He was calming down and his face bore fangs. This was the famous stone wall, truly a man who was used to interrogation. Apollo snuck his hand under the table, under the cloth that draped it and suddenly Lovinski felt ill. He jumped, he put both his hands underneath the table now too and Apollo flexed his muscle. There was a groan.

“Get the fuck off me. You’re crushing them.” He screamed. He tried slapping, tried punching Apollo. He loaded his gun and shot two bullets in Apollo’s skull, the rest in his chest. The bullet casings fell to the floor and blood that should have been there on his cheeks retreaded back into his body. The holes closed.

“Not strong enough. You need more power than that.” Apollo said.

“What are you?” He asked again. Apollo flexed his arm again.

“The list.” Apollo said. Mr. Lovinski was shaking and drew blood from his tongue.

“Fuck you. I’m not saying shit.”

“A normal man would have confused this for honor.” Apollo said. “But I know you for what you really are. You’re afraid they’d break much easier than you. And that’s all under the implication that I won’t kill you, right?”

The man huffed. He struggled through the pain that ran up his head and caused him to sweat. The women were crying.

“You’re right. I won’t kill you.” Apollo said. His arm shook, the table shook. The man shook. His mouth was open and he was surprised at the warmth. More surprised than pained, more curious over the feeling and the blood that trickled down as if the satin had turned liquid and spilled over. The woman to his shoulder wanted to peer. She wanted to know what it was that made Lovinski silent and that had made his face dumbfounded. She tried unveiling the cloth.

“Don’t look.” Apollo stopped her with his free hand. “This is a secret between us.

Lovinksi finally screamed. Pain found him. His legs shook, his body rattled and he was scratching at Apollo and trying to pry away from his iron grip.

“You still have one chance to be a father. Start writing.” The man writhed in his seat. The women were screaming, there were shocked gasps coming from the hall now, but people were too afraid to go up the stairs. And most of them were still dancing below, still filled themselves with each others touch. Lovinski slammed himself on the table. He scattered everything. Glass shattered. He pulled a napkin up.

“I need a pen. I need a pen. Pen. Pen.” He was shouting. He looked around, everyone's faces showed despair. Silent. Gasping. “I need a pen you stupid bitch!” Apollo wasn’t sure who he screamed at. Him or the girls or the people below. Apollo reached into his pockets and threw it at him. He wrote and each time he stopped to think, Apollo shook underneath. Like whipping a mule.

“That’s the secret about men, ladies.” He said. “They’re easy to handle if you get a hold of their horns.”

Lovinksi screamed and pushed the paper to the side. Apollo read it and thought about letting go.

“That’s all you want, right you fuck?” Lovinski said. “I’ll fucking kill you. I swear it.”

“Don’t make promises you won’t keep.” Apollo said. “You’ll never see me again. Live with that pain. You will never get revenge.” Apollo said. He looked into his quivering eyes and at once pressed again. It was all gone. The man, the girls. They all gave into screaming and Lovinksi sat in his seat, grabbing his bloody groin. Apollo let go.

“I saved you the sin of having children. You’ll never bear any kin to take hold of your rotten business. You’ll never pass it on. That’s good. I hope this whole shit show dies with you, honestly.” Apollo said.

“I’ll fucking kill you.” Was all the neutered man shouted between his crying moans. One of the girls was calling an ambulance. Apollo looked around, there were no cameras and he felt calm at last.

“When they ask you. When they mock you. When you're dying, fatherless. When someone asks you about the origin of your troubles. Tell them. Tell them! It was the devil, come to take his dues.” Apollo walked out. He hugged the dark walls and steered clear of the light and found the nearest window to drop from. He looked below, he sighed and felt his bones press down. He stood. He looked at his phone and held it with his fingertips, trying to find Dion’s name among the screens. The light made the blood brighter than it was and he looked at his hands with disgust.

He should have put his gloves on first.