Nuthin' but a "G" thang

“So, Jeremy is it? My boy Greez says that you good with numbers”, Carl removed his feet clad in the crocodile skin shoes from the desk and offered a cigar to the nigga with the glasses on the other side of the desk.
“Yes, Mr Owens. Jeremy Lewis, and I am, like you say, good with numbers. I graduated in the top tenth percentile in my class from…”
Carl interrupted him.
“But you just got out of the slammer, right? 5 years in MCC for corporate fraud?”
“Indeed”, he said hesitantly, “Greez said that you would probably have oversight with my…previous stumbles…”
“Shit, yeah! You my boy J!”
Carl lit Jeremy’s cigar and both men sat back in their seats, Jeremy enjoying the cigar, puffing smoke, while Carl studied the man he was interviewing.
“This is the situation J. The previous owner of this club ran it like a motherfucka and all his problems are now dumped into my fucking lap. A lot of bad people has their claws up in this bitch, all of ‘em trying to get paper from me, or watch me crash an’ burn. Now, I have managed to keep their greedy fangs out of my neck so far, but this place needs to be a fucking money cannon. I need help here J, an’ I think that you're the right nigga for the job.”
“Yes, sir Mr Owens. I have some experience with creative accounting”. The man smiled shyly, and took another drag on the cigar.
“Good, you’re hired!” Carl exclaimed. “You gonna have to teach me some of that number juggling Jeremy. Let’s take a tour of the place and I’ll show you a little secret of mine…”

---

Later at night a car came to a halt and the headlights shut off, turning the street into a dark gloom again outside of the worn down apartment block that was the home of Dogman.
Carl removed the keys from the ignition and let out a reluctant sigh. He was aware that he didn’t need to breathe, and that sighing was just a remnant of his old life, but some habits are hard to shake.
The night had started so good. Jeremy was in, ghouled up and ready to take Red Nr 5 into the black. With money coming in, drug deals going smoothly and if only that crazy Erzulie could be found and fucking killed, maybe one day he would not need the bodyguard he was about to “hire”.
He did not look forward to what he had to do. The whacked out nigga inside the shitty apartment was his friend, one of few, but it had to be done, Dogman had seen too much in the last couple of nights to be left unshackled and he was too useful to just disappear.
Shit, two new ghouls in one night, things were looking up after all.