One Of Us

Earlier Jesse had told Michael he needed to be in the main office where most of the gang members were hanging out.

Typically for any of the groups, or mafia organizations anywhere all over the world, the gang had a perfectly neat business in front of the law, with legal offices, such as the one they usually gathered at.

They could be laundering money, presenting it as any business out there, it could be anything- from a construction company to a car wash.

In their case- it was some marketing agency, although neither of the guys around looked like they knew what the latest trends were.

As for negotiating buying or selling- well, maybe they did know a thing or two.

Jesse sat heavily on the sofa in the open space of the office and slumped against the back. He draped his hand over the backrest and Mike saw some letters, tattooed on the inside of his forearm. It was an obviously super old ink and Michael assumed Jesse must have gotten it when he was twelve, or something.

Writer F

Trouble, baby

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