People get the wrong idea about people like me; enforcers, that is. They think you owe money to a loan-shark, we break your legs with a baseball-bat, crush your hands in vice grips. That looks good in movies, sure. But it’s bad business.
First of all, you owe my guy money. I break your legs, your arms, you can’t work. I hurt your family, you go to the Feds, brings heat on me and my guy. We don’t need that. We just want to get paid.
Some guys go to us all the time, the real degenerates, and they know to have the cash, plus the vigg, in my hands when I come to the door. Does that mean I trust them? No. But I might give them an extra day or so; of course, with interest accrued on the vigg. That’s my take home. My guy wants one vigg, usually ten percent, maybe my vigg is twenty percent, and I keep the change. My guy could give a rat’s ass. That’s how it works.
So I come to your house and you don’t pay. Maybe you tell me you’re done paying. That might work. Or maybe I’ll kick you so hard in your gut I’ll need to clean puke of my shoes later. Or maybe even better; I take a pair of jumper cables and clamp ‘em to your ears, lift you off the ground. Sure it’ll leave a mark, but you can still work.
And oh, if you want to avoid me? Hope I get tired of trying? If I agreed to lend you money, I already know your home address, telephone number, cell number, where you work, where you hang out, who you hang out with, where your girl, your wife, your kids work or go to school… I don’t have to threaten people. I just have to show up at all the places you don’t think I know about. Because someone has to pay my guy, and your gambling addiction sure as hell ain’t comin’ out of my pocket.
I got a guy who calls me, and maybe he’s got eight other guys besides me that he calls. But he’s got a guy who calls him, and that guy’s got eight other guys, who have eight guys of their own. I don’t know the boss who sits in dark, smoky rooms with his underbosses; wouldn’t know him if he walked right past me on the street. All I know is one guy. It’s all insulated like that. I’m just a guy who collects from gamblers and people desperate for a loan, no matter the cost.
Need some money?
Liam Sweeny is a pulp-fiction writer and novelist from upstate NY. He has two books published, Anno Luce and Anno Luce: Anna’s Book. His work has appeared in various online sites and in print. In his free-time, Sweeny volunteers in Disaster Services.