5 Cutter #2
“It won’t take more than fifteen minutes to get there,” I reply.
“I know, but I want to check things out first.”
I’m liking the idea of this meeting less and less.
“Oh, and bring your gun.”
And now I’m liking it even less.
? ? ?
Scarponi’s Ristorante sits off by itself on a crowded stretch of road north of downtown East Brook.
There’s a narrow parking lot running along the west side of the historic building, but of course it’s full.
Daryl circles the block and finds someone pulling out on the next street.
He doesn’t make a move to get out right away, just sits and scans our surroundings.
I give him a few minutes, then ask, “You okay?”
“Yeah, sure.” He blows out a breath and checks his watch. “Let’s go see what the old man has to say.”
I know there’s a criminal element in Daryl’s past. His father went to prison when he was sixteen.
I don’t know all the details, just that it was a white collar crime.
Which means he’s probably more comfortable than I am with this arrangement.
Despite my questionable activities after dropping out of college, I’m still a product of middle class suburbia.
When Scarponi first approached Daryl, I tried to talk him out of it. Yeah, a couple of his other investors were on the shady side, but that was mainly gambling. I’ve heard Scarponi has mob connections, and I’d hate to see Daryl go into business with that type.
“It’ll be fine,” he murmurs to me, though I’m not sure who he’s trying to convince.
“It’s not too late to bail. I can go in and tell him you changed your mind.”
“Relax, Cutter. It’s just business.”
Yeah, that’s what worries me.
The interior of the restaurant meets every cliché of a high-end Italian eatery. Warm stucco walls decorated with murals of the Italian countryside. White tablecloths. Soft music. Candlelight. The air redolent with the smell of garlic, warm bread, and searing meat.
My stomach growls, and I almost ask Daryl if we can eat while we’re here. It’s been too many hours since that meager chicken wrap I had for lunch and I know I’m facing a neglected refrigerator when I get home.
I spot Scarponi holding court at a table in the shadowy back corner. Devers is there, along with two other men of questionable character. I suck in a deep breath and wipe my expression clear of any misgivings.
As we approach, Scarponi motions to the two men to leave and indicates for us to sit. He smiles at Daryl, pointedly ignores me, and lifts his hand to get the server’s attention. When the young man arrives at the table, Scarponi quirks a brow at Daryl.
“What are you drinking?”
“Nothing for me, thank you. I’m driving.” He glances at me and I shake my head.
“Bring me another bottle of the red,” Scarponi tells the server. After he scurries off, the old man turns his shrewd gaze to Daryl. “Business is good these days?”
“I can’t complain,” Daryl answers easily.
If I didn’t know him as well as I do, I would never detect the slight tremor in his voice.
My eyes flick across the table to Devers, who’s barely disguising a smug grin.
I’d like to think this isn’t going to be the cakewalk Scarponi thought, but I can’t read Daryl’s mind.
“I like the idea of this club,” Scarponi says. “Untapped potential.”
“That’s why I want to take it to Boston,” Daryl says.
“That would be a profitable expansion,” he agrees, nodding. “Which is why I question the numbers you provided.”
“It’s a one hundred and twenty-five percent return on investment,” Daryl counters. “You would be one of four investors.”
“What if I want more? Say…half? I’m sure I can provide more than your other potential partners.”
Daryl regards him silently for several minutes, and I start to wonder if he’s actually considering the old man’s offer. Then he shakes his head and reaches for a piece of bread in the basket on the table.
“I don’t think so,” he says, taking a bite and chewing thoughtfully.
I can see the vein on the side of the old man’s head pulse. “Why not? What have these other men got that I don’t?”
“It’s not what you do or do not have,” Daryl replies. “I just don’t want to give anyone that much control. This is my business, and I intend for it to stay that way. I came up with the idea, I took all the risks. You would be coming in on a sure thing.”
Scarponi pretends to consider Daryl’s words, but I can see anger banking behind his eyes. I imagine he’s a man used to getting his way. “Say I agree to your terms, there is something you can do for me.”
“And what is that?”
He sits back and sweeps his hands in front of him. “I have a nephew–my sister’s son. He needs direction. I was thinking you could give him a job.”
“I’m not hiring,” Daryl says.
“Maybe at your Boston club.”
I don’t like what he’s implying. “What does he do?” Daryl asks.
“Eh, you know. A little of this and that. I’m sure you could find something for him.”
Daryl throws a sideways glance at me before replying. “Tell you what. When I get ready to open that club, I’ll post a list of positions I’m looking for. If he sees something he likes, he can apply just like anyone else. If he’s qualified, I’ll give him a job.”
“He would be qualified,” Scarponi insists, a little of his anger leaking into his voice. “He’s my nephew.”
“I know that’s how things work for you,” Daryl says, “but that’s not how I operate. I hire only the best and I vet everyone.”
Scarponi pours another glass of wine and takes a sip, eyeing Daryl from behind his glass. Finally he shrugs and smiles. “Then perhaps we cannot do business.”
Daryl doesn’t hesitate, pushing back his chair and standing up. “Guess not. Thanks for sparing me your time.”
I rise and return Devers’ smirk, stopping myself from breathing a sigh of relief.
Scarponi actually looks surprised. “So you will walk away?”
“Looks that way,” Daryl replies. “Good evening, gentlemen.”
He turns without another word and walks out of the restaurant. I follow, my eyes tracking the two men who left our table. They’re standing near the door, but they don’t do anything to stop us.
Once outside, I catch up with Daryl, falling into step beside him as we round the block. “It’s for the best.”
He gives me a grim smile. “I know. You were right. I shouldn’t have even set up the meet.” He glances behind him. “You think he’ll let it go at that?”
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried. But there’s nothing we can do about it right now. “We’ll see,” I say as we arrive at Daryl’s Escalade.
“This may set us back a little, but like you said, there are other investors out there.”
“Exactly.” And probably a lot less risky.
“Let’s grab a bite to eat before we head back,” he says as he pulls out into traffic. “In the mood for a steak?”
“I won’t say no to that.”
I try to distract myself with the prospect of rare beef, but I keep going back to what just happened. I know Scarponi only through reputation, but I’d still wager he isn’t going to let us just walk away. He’ll retaliate some way, I’m almost sure of it.
Maybe I should speak to Daryl about hiring more security. The last thing we need right now is trouble at the club.