Chapter 8
CLARISSA
PRESENT
Ralph had taken John to the bus station. He was happy with the money, and I was happy to get him out of my hair.
The room felt comfortable and spacious. My mind drifted to memories of long ago.
Nothing like my bedroom from my childhood, small, hot, and humid with a broken air conditioner.
I was living a life that was a far cry from those early years.
John had been my first love, my high school sweetheart. My parents hated him with a passion, and rightly so. He’d knocked me up right after I came back home from New York the first time around to help look after my grandfather, Rafael.
John never married me. For some reason, he liked to say we were married. He liked to say that when he got drunk. This was never the case.
Soon after, I had Ralph. I left him with my parents to care for him and came back here to New York to pursue my dream of becoming an actress. I needed to get out of the poverty my parents had offered me all my life up to that point.
I was heartbroken as a very young mother, but I couldn’t give up on my dream. Thankfully, my parents understood.
My phone started buzzing, and I was quickly back in the room, sitting on the chair. It was Cole.
“Hey, Cole. I was waiting for your call.”
“Hi, Clarissa. We really need to talk!”
“Sure. What’s happening?”
“It’s better if we talk in person,” Cole said.
He sounded very nervous. I wondered what was going on. But all in all, I needed to speak to him and continue my plan.
“I like that,” I replied.
“Where are you staying?” he asked.
“I’m at the Condor Hotel. It’s about ten minutes away.”
“I’ll have Ralph drop me off.”
Oh, no.
“Let’s do this; I’ll come to you. I’ll take an Uber. Ralph is running an errand for me. I hope you don’t mind.”
“That’s fine. I’ll be waiting here.”
“Great. I’m getting ready now. I’ll be there at about 7:00 p.m., at the latest.”
“Okay. See you then.”
I hung up with Cole and called Ralph right away. His phone rang, but he didn’t answer.
I left a voicemail.
“Call me right back when you hear this message.”
I sent him a message saying the same thing.
I picked up the phone in the room and called the front desk.
“Hi, this is Clarissa Bennett, room 1011. I need a favor, hun; get me an Uber.”
“Right away, Mrs. Bennett,” the receptionist answered.
I quickly went downstairs. I said goodbye to the receptionist, who told me she had called an Uber driver friend of hers who was already waiting for me outside.
The Uber driver was outside the vehicle and opened the car door for me.
“Thank you. I appreciate that. I see chivalry is not dead yet.”
“Chivalry may not be dead yet, but you sure will be if your son doesn’t pay Mr. Moretti what he owes him.”
Michael? Ralph? Who is he talking about?
I looked back at the receptionist through the big glass window. She shrugged.
This is your Uber driver friend?
I tried to get away, but he pulled a gun on me and pushed me into the back seat.
“What type of Uber service is this?” I asked as he closed the door and the driver sped off.
What the hell, Moretti!
The driver locked the doors, and I couldn’t open them.
“Look, lady, you don’t want to get hurt. Don’t do anything stupid. Mr. Moretti sent for you. He isn’t playing around,” he threatened.
I let out a deep sigh.
What is going on?
We arrived at Moretti’s nightclub. This was a gentleman’s club.
I looked out the window of the Uber, and my mind drifted again.
It hadn’t changed much since the last time I was there. Moretti had given me my first job as an escort. That’s how I met Cole. He was my first client.
The Uber car door opened. The driver had opened it. He extended his hand, and I grabbed it so I could get myself out of the car.
If there was one thing the club hadn’t lost, it was manners. All the staff had good manners, until they didn’t.
“Mrs. Bennett, Mr. Moretti is waiting for you inside,” the driver said.
I nodded.
The driver escorted me to the door. Moretti was there.
I looked at my watch.
It was 7:03 p.m.
Cole will be calling me anytime soon.
“Hi there, Clarissa,” Moretti said.
“Hi there, yourself, Moretti. What’s this nonsense I hear about my son owing you money?”
“Relax, Candy Spice. Just come inside and make yourself comfortable.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Don’t call me that. You know I don’t like that name,” I answered. I was fuming.
What sort of bullshit was Moretti pulling this time?
I entered the club, and it was just as I remembered. The walls were a dark blue, not too dark, but pleasant.
“I see you’ve done some repairs. A far cry from the dump it used to be.”
I wanted to get under his skin. The place really looked nice, but I was just fucking with him.
Chandeliers hung nicely from the ceiling; private rooms for guests and their escorts looked very plush and comfortable. The dancing poles for the lady dancers looked brand new up on the stage.
“This dump helped give you your start. I wouldn’t knock it,” Moretti said resentfully. “Is it bringing back memories?” he asked.
“No. It’s not,” I lied. “Once a gorilla, always a gorilla, even if you put lipstick on the gorilla.”
Moretti let out a hearty laugh.
“I see you haven’t changed a bit. Always the feisty one, the rebel without a cause. That’s what I like about you.”
I kept walking through the club, and lo and behold, I saw Cole at the corner table with a black eye.
I rushed toward him and sat right next to him. I took his face in my hands and looked him over carefully. It was definitely a nasty bruise.
“Are you okay, honey bunny?” I asked with concern in my voice. “Did this idiot hurt you?”
I looked at Moretti with very angry eyes.
“You’re a piece of work, Moretti. Why did you have to do this to Cole? He paid off all of his father’s debts and then some. He’s been a great client all these years.”
“Oh, don’t get all melodramatic on me, Clarissa, or should I say Candy Spice?”
“Hey, stupid,” I said. “I got out of that life many, many years ago, right after I had my son Michael. You know that.”
“Well, little old Michael owes me quite a bit of money, and one of you is going to have to pay.”
“Well, you can shove it up your ass. I don’t have that kind of money.”
Moretti was getting impatient with my attitude.
“That’s right, Moretti. We don’t have that kind of money. After I settled all my father’s debts with you, I was literally wiped out. I barely have enough money to run the clubs that I have left,” Cole admitted.
Dammit. Cole is broke. I need to change my strategy.
Moretti shook his head.
“And I’m supposed to give a shit about your financial problems? You either come up with the money, or little Mikey is going to have an accident.”
My heart dropped. I took a deep breath and let it out.
“This is stupid, Moretti.”
My expression softened.
“We shouldn’t be fighting like this. We’re practically family. We’ve known each other for so many years. It hardly seems fair that you take such drastic action.”
Moretti started pacing back and forth. He took out a cigarette and lit it, taking a drag.
“Things have been tough for me, too. The business is not what it used to be. Men are turning to online entertainment, do you know what I mean?”
“I don’t know what you mean, and I don’t care,” I snapped.
“Tell you what, you come back to work for me, and you work off the debt.”
“Are you out of your mind? I’m not in my twenties anymore. I mean, I know I look great for my age, but I’m sure nobody wants to go out with someone as sophisticated as me.”
“Exactly what I was thinking,” Cole chimed in.
I slapped Cole upside the head.
“Hey, watch your mouth. You wish you had some of this sophistication in your bed.”
Cole stayed quiet.
“And that’s my point, Clarissa. You hit the nail on the head. I need a sophisticated woman such as yourself for my older and much more sophisticated gentlemen. You know, lawyers, judges, and surgeons. I mean high-end clients who would pay a premium for your company.”
“It doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” Cole mentioned.
“Shut up, stupid. He’s not talking about you giving up your sophistication to strangers. I don’t care how high-class they are.”
What kind of shit is this?
“Well, Candy Spice—”
“Stop saying that name,” I interjected.
Cole got up from his seat.
“You heard her; she said to stop calling her that,” Cole said, very upset.
Moretti shrugged.
“I don’t know why you’re getting all hot under the collar. You’re the one who married a lady of the night.”
Cole was infuriated by Moretti’s comment and lunged at him.
Next thing I know, they’re on the ground fighting, and I’m screaming for them to stop.
“Stop this! Now! You’re acting like children!”
Bang!
That sound echoed throughout the club.
Moretti’s driver came in from the outside and rushed to Moretti, who was bleeding and lying on the floor.
Cole stood up. His shirt was stained with blood.
“It was his gun,” Cole said nervously. “It just went off. It wasn’t my fault. He was going to shoot me or you.”
The driver was talking to Moretti, trying to decide what to do.
“We need to take him to the hospital,” I interjected. “Stop arguing like chickens in a coop. You’re acting as if you’ve never seen someone get shot,” I said firmly.
“Well, I never actually have,” he admitted. “The gun that was pulled on you had no bullets. I don’t like firearms. Playing with loaded guns is dangerous. My mom taught me that.”
Unbelievable. It’s so hard to get good help these days.
“No hospitals,” Moretti whispered.
I knelt next to him.
“Listen, Moretti. It’s either the hospital or your friend, the butcher down the street. And I don’t think he’ll help you out since you ordered a beating on him a few years ago for not paying back the small loan he owed you.”
“Fine. The hospital it is,” Moretti managed to say.
Cole was freaking out. The driver was confused, and I had to get this resolved one way or the other.
This is bad; this is really bad.