Page 23 of Changes


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Snow bellowed his disapproval, practically shaking the old rafters of the loft space. He stared at the wide-open area. If he were in a good place, mentally, he would throw huge parties here. It was perfect for that. Great views of the city and the river beyond, a gourmet kitchen that he’d yet to use even for himself. It was the ultimate bachelor’s pad.

The problem was he’d been a bachelor for too long. He needed to find a way to rid himself of these problems and settle down.

“You’ll never be rid of your problems.”

Snow closed his eyes, waving a hand at his ear as if there was a fly. The three men stared at their boss, wondering if he was mad. Snow just closed his eyes, shaking his head. As he started to turn and speak, there was a loud banging on the massive metal door. He nodded at the men to open it, plastering a politician’s smile on his face.

“Can I help you?” asked one of the men.

“We’re here to see Mr. Snow,” said Nine.

The man narrowed his eyes and attempted to shut the door when four massive hands gripped the edge. Two were white, two were black, and they were double the size of his own hands.

“Now, that ain’t nice at all,” said Tailor. “We just want to speak to Mr. Snow.”

“Let them in, Terrance.”

Snow tried to stand up straighter in order to appear taller than the seven men who walked through his door. It was pointless. They towered over Snow’s own bodyguards, who were no slouches. Instead, he sat with one foot on the floor, leaning on his desk.

“You were at my rally the other night,” grinned Snow. “I’m guessing you’re not a fan of my politics.”

“I’m not a fan of your politics, your personality, your clothing, and especially not a fan of you striking old women,” growled Gaspar.

“It was all a mistake. You have to understand people come at me all the time, asking for favors, angry that I did something they didn’t like.” He shrugged, grinning at the men. “Politics is a strange business. What do you do?”

“You don’t touch women or children. Especially old ladies,” sneered Miller. “You dared to touch my mother.”

“Ah, I see,” he grinned. “You’re here to avenge your mother. So, what? You want to use the prod on Terrance?”

The bodyguard’s eyes grew wide, and he stepped back, staring at the group of men, shaking his head.

“I’ll deal with Terrance later, you piece of shit,” said Miller. “I feel certain he was operating on your orders.”

“That’s true,” smirked Snow. “It’s always good to have men who follow orders, as I’m sure you’ll agree. You have to keep order no matter where you are or who you are.”

“Maybe take a page from that book of accepting orders,” said Wilson. “You’re going to leave that tree and that park alone. If you attempt to hurt her, or anyone in or around that Square, you will find yourself in a position you cannot get out of.”

“Is that a threat?” he sneered.

“Damn right it is,” said Nine. He stood straighter, taller, and his huge body moved toward Snow. He was smart enough to wipe the grin from his face and clear his throat as Nine continued.

“And we don’t make threats lightly. You will find yourself in a situation that you cannot get out of, nor will you be able to pay someone to get you out of it. You will lose this battle.”

Snow just stared at the men. He recognized that, in this moment anyway, he was outmanned.

“The Square is an eyesore,” said Snow. “It attracts drunks and drug users. And those people calling themselves artists are destroying the city.”

“Those artists are a part of the city,” said Antoine. “You are not. There have been artists, performers, card readers, psychics, and everything else in that Square for two hundred years. Millions of tourists come through that Square every year. They take family photos, have weddings, proposals, and no one seems bothered by the locals sitting around the Square. Nothing you do will change that. It’s part of the fabric of New Orleans, along with St. Louis Cathedral.”

“I’m trying to reach a compromise here, gentlemen. The tree must go. Now, I can destroy the entire Square or just the tree. You decide.”

“You listen to me,” said Alec, stepping forward, looking over Snow, who had the common sense to lean back, nearly lying flat on his desk. “You won’t destroy anything. Not the tree, not the Square. Nothing. We will be there to stop you.”

“You can’t stop politics, big man.” Alec leaned forward, forcing Snow to lie back on the desk, staring up at him.

“Watch me.”

The group of men turned, leaving the loft apartment. It took Snow a moment, but he straightened himself, fixing his shirt.