Chapter 4
Castor
This scotch got the better of me. Egging me on to fulfill those thoughts she brewed the second I laid eyes on her… The fuck was I thinking, messing around with Gia Castellano? My best friend’s kid sister. The fuck was I thinking?
Taking another swig of my Johnnie Blue is all I can do to calm my nerves. She walks by my table every now and again, serving drinks, being flirty to get some tips.
It makes me angry that other guys get to ogle her now. I want her here, at my table, where only I can sate her. Don’t know what to do with that either.
I’m cool on the outside. Big Ace and Ratchet Tony are back at my booth, filling me in on this week’s jobs. But on the inside? I wish I hadn’t pat her twice on the butt and told her ‘a little morning coffee before work.’ This is Marco’s sister we’re talking about. The Hairtrigger himself.
Not that I’m afraid of him. I’m his boss, technically. But we’re brothers in all but blood, since we were kids.
“Ey, ey, Bull, did you hear what I just said?” Big Ace is laughing at his own joke. “I said, the little Mexicano called me Big Queen instead of Big Ace, so I called him Little Deuce. Boy got up and threw his cards down so fast I thought he shit himself.”
Ratchet Tony starts cracking up to my right. I’m cackling too, ’cause it is funny. If you knew who he was talking about, you’d laugh too. This little cartel nutjob – Segundo De Nada Martinez – loves to dish, dish, dish, but as soon as you turn it on him, he flips.
“You just started a war by doing that, Ace.” I shake my head, still smirking.
“War? What war? They need us, Capo, remember? That ten percent premium we pay for exclusive channels doesn’t exist. No way they’re getting that anywhere else. Not the Barones, not the Scatilli’s. Hell, not even our beloved Rigiano allies.”
“Hey.” I slap the table. “Careful now, we got a plant from that side of the island.” I thumb to Ratchet Tony – who has close ties to the Rigianos but is loyal to me.
“Fuck off, Bull!” He nudges my shoulder, and we all take a swig.
“How’s our honorary guest doing?” Tony puckers his lips, motioning to my left.
A lightning bolt goes off in my chest when I think he’s pointing out Gia. Then I remember myself. We invited a premier Russian – Yuri Patrovski – to attend our little show.
“Looks to be enjoying himself,” I say, watching him pull on a cigar and belly laugh when one of my men say something funny. He likes us Italians, but trusts us about as far as he can throw us.
“Think he’ll open up exports to our crew?” Tony pushes.
“Ah! C’mon, you know he’s a slow burn, this one.” Ace sucks his teeth. “You won’t be able to squeeze any of our gold past this guy ’til his beak is nice and wet.”
“It’s deeper than that,” I say. “Our beloved allies offed his cousin ten years ago, remember? That’s why he’s been so off the grid to our side of the family lately. If we’re ever going to do business again, we’ll have to play sour with the Rigianos.”
“That’s dangerous, Bull,” Tony says.
“Only if we’re caught,” I assure.
“Hey, Tony.” Big Ace reaches around me to squeeze his shoulder. “Do I have to check under the hood, make sure you’re not harboring a big ol’ pussy?”
Tony shrugs him off, making Big Ace laugh his burly laugh.
“C’mon, we’re not the biggest earning crew because we play by the rules. Big Donny Don doesn’t care how the gold comes, so long as we produce. Ey, Bullion?” Ace nudges my shoulder.
“He cares a little bit.” I swirl the cube in my glass. “Might have to slip the Shadow a heads up that we’ll be flirting a split from the alliance, just to uphold appearances.”
“Then we have to cut him in.” Ace frowns.
“Better than dodging bullets,” I say.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
My stomach tightens when a beautiful, slim figure obstructs my view.
“Gia, the model-who-got-away.” Big Ace opens his arms. “You know, you look nothing like your brother. And that’s a good thing.”
Gia smiles and tilts her head at him. Her big brown eyes make me forget what I was talking about. Before – when I was making her night – I barely got to look at her. But now that she’s on full display? I can’t contain myself. She really has grown into a beautiful woman. Big breasts, tight body, and long shiny hair I’d love to get my hands on. Her being completely off-limits revs a different side of my engine too. Nothing is supposed to be off-limits at this level of play.
“That’s sweet, but my brother would be highly offended,” she says.
“That he would! The vain prick.” Ace cackles. “Hey, now. Is Bullion here taking good care of you?”
Her eyes flick to mine, and we share a naughty knowing moment.
Damn right I’m taking care of her.
“He’s doing alright.” She shrugs, and I’m that much more turned on. This little fucking pistol.
“Oh, ho, ho.” Ace’s mouth is a donut as his glistening face stares at me. “The Bullion, not paying up?”
“Never in a million years.” Tony fake massages my shoulders, kissing ass. “You got the wrong guy, sweetheart.”
“Uh, huh, we’ll see when I get my tip.” She eyes me again, and I nearly choke on my drink.
“Scoot over, Tone. I need some air,” I say.
“Drinks, boys?” The way she shrugs one bare shoulder really kills me. To think, the little teenager turned into such a dangerous firecracker.
I push to my feet and straighten my lapel, then nod for Gia to escort me toward the bar. “Listen, kid, you’re playing a dangerous game with your little innuendos.”
“Says the man who just shoved his fingers inside me.” She scoffs.
“That never happened.” I button my blazer.
“Tell my aching vagina that.”
I eye her, hiding a grin. “Marco can never know.” She gets a little tense at the mention of his name, only to bat her eyes at me, keeping me on my toes.
“You scared of him?” she eggs me.
“Don’t be a brat. I’m deadly serious,” my voice lowers, and she tenses again.
“Okay, jeez. Just messing around.”
“No messing. Not with this. Understand?” We get to the bar, and I knock all my rings on the wood in finality. “Hey, kid. I’m not fond of repeating myself.” I knock again. “Do we understand one another?”
“Alright. Yes, I understand.”
“Good,” I soften my voice and lean over the bar. “Now listen, I know a lot of these men will be disappointed, but you don’t have to work anymore tonight.”
Her face contorts in anger, looking like she wants to slap me. Why? I’m being nice.
“I’m not a damn prostitute, Castor.”
My hands go up innocently as I hide my smirk. Guess I never thought of it that way. “I wouldn’t be able to afford you if you were.”
Her expression softens. “I don’t know whether to slap you across the face or try to grab you again.”
Blood rushes to my cock like a river. Every part of me wants to whisk her away to somewhere private, but I can’t. Marco…
“How about I buy you a drink instead, and we forget how I almost paid you for a taste.”
“I’m working, Castor.” She lifts the plate now full of drinks. “Out of my way.”
I turn around as she walks away, leaning both my elbows on the bar. I’m careful not to stare too hard at her ass swaying back and forth in those heels. Gia Castellano. Who would’ve thought?
The rest of the show is a success. No hiccups, no fights, just a bunch of hardworking crooked men escorting their dates off the stage and onto the next stage of the night. I don’t think I ever saw Billy Chops so happy in his life. He’s a short, balding man with thick glasses, but the Russian he won a date with seems all about him – clinging onto his arm, kissing him on the cheek. It’s a good sight.
I hold up my drink to the winners as they stroll by, and accept their thanks since I organized the whole bit. Well, funded, rather. My people organized it.
I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been eyeing Gia all night, but my better judgement tells me not to wait for her. Walk out with the crowd. Play it safe. There’s no telling who would start talking if I made it any more obvious than I had at the beginning of the night. Here’s to hoping alcohol erases suspicion.
When turning my back to her, I can’t help but think of how perfectly warm her pussy felt on my fingers. Glimpsing her face trying to hide the pleasure, it tortures me in a way my mind can’t handle.
Gotta keep this a secret… I’ll just leave it as a passing itch we both scratched. Nothing more.
Among the crowd of blazers, I find one that’s a little off-style. The Russian.
“Yuri.” I pat him on the back. “Happy to see you and Miss Jersey are getting along so well.”
“Hi, Castor.” She wiggles her fingers at me, and Yuri turns with a wide smile on his face.
Before he can say anything, I offer my hand with a returned smile to dispel any notions of disrespect. We understand each other. I’m here for business. His platinum rings click against my gold ones.
“I’ll give it to you, Bullion. You and your boys know how to throw a party.” His cackle rumbles like a motorboat. “At mine, we’re slurring from all the vodka before the girls even get there.”
“We’re just matchmakers at heart,” I say smoothly. “Hope to see you again.”
Leaving on a good note is the best I could hope for. It’s a small seed. No hard negotiations, no politics. Not yet.
He expects me to be aggressive because of my reputation, so I have to play him slow.
We all gather outside Bingo Bangos, chatting under the awning at three-thirty in the morning. My crew is loud and sloshed up. That’s alright, though. They deserve it. It’s been a long week of close calls. But they pulled through. Four jobs and three million profit later, we’re all still here.
The waitresses exit together, and to my surprise, I’m not the only one waiting for Gia. Mimmo Acosta – that horse-faced fuck.
“Sweet-tits, hey, listen.” He puts his hand flat on the window, pinning her inside his slimy intoxicated aura. “You took care of me all night, now let me take care of you.” He slips two hundred-dollar bills carefully inside her shirt, doing his best to look sly as his fingers brush against her breast.
I bristle, wanting to pummel him through the glass.
“Appreciate the tip. But I’m not interested in dead presidents. Thanks for freeing the slaves though.” She pushes him out of the way and heads back to the other waitresses.
I relax, laughing to myself. He does kind of look like Lincoln. Then a fire returns when he forcefully yanks her skirt up like he’s looking under a tablecloth. A pair of panties with cat-like avocados shine in an up-light.
She slaps his hand off.
“Sorry, Monroe. Just wanted a reenactment of your favorite pose.” Mimmo laughs at himself, then nearly falls back in his drunken stupor.
I push past Tony and stomp over to Mimmo, seeing a flash of red. His eyes are barely able to focus, but I know he’s in there somewhere.
“Hey.” I yank him by the collar.
“Bull, whoa. Whoa.” His hands go up.
“Do you know who that is?” I speak through gritted teeth. “That’s Hairtrigger’s baby sister.” I grab two of his fingers and snap them hard so he falls to his knees. I didn’t break them, but I still just might. Now he’s on the ground, mouth open in pain, staring up at me.
“I didn’t know, Bull. I’m sorry. Ah!”
“Get up. And show some respect.” I let go of him, flicking my eyes to Gia.
I can’t tell if she’s impressed or terrified. A part of me thinks she didn’t want me to do that. She hates how the mob handles things. Doesn’t matter. The men need to know she’s protected goods.
“S—sorry, Ms. Castellano. I had no idea.” Mimmo struggles to his feet.
“I’ll forgive you if you show your underwear,” she tries to make light of the tense situation, and all her new waitress friends giggle nervously. “Kidding. I’m kidding. You’re fine. Don’t go killing each other over little ol’ me.”
I slap Mimmo lightly on the face, twice, telling him he’s been warned, and head back to my main circle. Glancing at the waitresses again is a warming sight. It only took a night, and Gia was already able to break through a very thick barrier of cosmetic surgery and the hen-ish behavior of our normal staff. Of course – she’s fiery and fun. What’s not to like? But the point is… maybe I can invite her to more events. Nothing wrong with enjoying the view.
That hope fades, however, when a familiar silhouette comes skulking from the shadows down the street.
My oldest friend. Marco.
His heeled loafers knock hard against the pavement. He always walks like he’s on his way to bash in someone’s head. Deep frown, angry eyes, bushy eyebrows that are somehow knitted. Those two scars on his neck are what makes him, though. I’ll never forget it – when he got caught up with the Colombians, and they threatened to give him a ‘necktie.’ They cut him up carefully, avoiding the artery so he’d suffer in fear for his would-be last moments on Earth. Had I not busted in to save him… he would’ve died a gruesome death.
He takes a long pull of his cigarette and flicks it in the street, eyeing his sister. And before I can react, he’s got a hand squeezed around the back of her arm. “The fuck is she doing here?”
I step out of my circle in hopes to calm him.
Marco eyes me, and I see the fire inside him. “Her shift was supposed to be over before any of our boys got here.” He points his finger angrily.
“What the hell, Marco? You’re stalking my schedule?” Gia swings out of his grasp. “How’d you even know I work here?”
“Yo. I’m trying to respect your privacy.”
“You’re screwed up in the head is what you are.” Gia points at her temple.
“Yeah? How those paintings coming?” He cackles, then laughs harder when Gia goes to hit him. “Missed you too, Sis.”
“Hey, relax.” I give him a kiss on either cheek. “We got done counting early. Our crew had a good week. We popped a bottle at the hideout, one thing led to another, and we showed up at Bangos an hour ahead of schedule. Hey, Trigger, don’t look at them.” I slap him lightly on the face. “I’m the one who saw her and offered her a little extra to help out. Being nice to my boy’s kid sister.”
“She wants nothing to do with this lot.” Marco pulls another cigarette and lights it. “She made it loud and clear at a family dinner. What was it, Sis? Four years ago now?” He shakes his head. “Bitch won’t even come see Mom if I’m close by. I’m talking to you, Gia.”
She smiles facetiously at us, then gives the finger.
“What a cute family reunion you gathered for us, Castor.” He takes a hard pull of his cigarette. “Now get her the fuck out of my sight.”
He can never know.