Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
“ Y ou’re to blame for all of this.” Blood drains from his face. “Like I said, either you were creaming off them, and all the others, and swallowing it all instead of kicking up, or you didn’t know what was going on under your nose. Which explanation you prefer? Tell me.”
His eyes are wide and his jaw flaps like an oversized goldfish.
“You have until Friday, too,” I tell him. “Get this place on track. Take care of business and the girls. And you need to make it right with me, as well.”
He looks at the remains of the barman and I let it all sink in. “You need to decide if you’re going to like working for me, Stephano.”
As I walk back down the stairs cradling the satchel, I try to remember who it was hired Stephano. And I wonder whether I’ll take pleasure in killing Stephano, or I’ll let someone else have the privilege. Maybe Erin. I see a future for him.
Back at the bar, the girl looks like she’s anxious to get out of there.
My cognac is still on the bar, so I return to my perch and lift it.
“What brought you here?” I ask her. “Where are you from? What was your plan when you came to work here?”
“I always wanted to be a dancer. It was my dream. I went to dance school, then to a performing arts college. But I wasn’t good enough.” She looks into my eyes, “Not for anything special. Not for anything out of the ordinary. And who wants to be an ordinary anything?”
“Did you finish college?”
“No. I knew I wasn’t going to make it as a dancer, so I switched to choreography.” Her face lights up a little at last. “I really was good at that.”
“So?”
“So, I was working two jobs, and my daddy started to need money from me so I had to let it go.”
“And you came here?”
“I heard the tips were good.” Her face clouds. “Only, when I got here, I saw why. What you had to do for the big tips.”
I nod. but I wonder. Was she really that naive?
“Anyway, most of the girls here seem top be okay with all of that. But they mostly use drugs to… soften the bounces, as they say.”
After I wait, she finally says, “I can’t afford the drugs. Not and send money back to Daddy. And anyway,” her chin juts with a hint of defiance. “I don’t like them.”
“What’s your name?”
“Catlin.”
I tell her, “Next time you send money to your daddy, Catlin, tell him it’s the last time. You’ve paid him back and you’ve sacrificed enough.” I put the satchel on the bar. “Take this back to the performing arts college.”
There’s probably seven to ten K in there. That should cover her fees for a while.
The last of the cognac slips down my throat with a satisfying burn as I throw it back.
“Come back and see me in a year. I want to know how you make out.” Before I leave, I tell her, “But stay the fuck out of here. This place is not for you.”
I want something special tonight. Seeing the three boys, I’m aiming for a night of love, even though none of them has stayed over at the new house yet. They all are too fond of the creature comforts they know in the old house of darkness.
So that means three things on my agenda for tonight. I want to cook for my men. Feed them so we can eat together. I don’t want the bother of dealing with a restaurant.
I need to talk through some upcoming casino business. A group from the Twelve Tribes got back to me about participation in the Cascades Resort. It will be a big development, and they have the land rights, meaning the gaming licenses are all in their pockets.
I’ve taken the talks and plans far enough to know there’s goodwill, and we have something worth pursuing. It’s all gone about as far as I can take it without getting my men involved. Now I need their heads in the game.
Most of all, I want some hot time for loving. I need to feel us all fanning the flames, sharing our flesh and our fires.
As I step back out into the rain, I’m wondering idly why I didn’t ask the girl her name. And I wonder if she will come back.
Probably not. But I handed her a chance. What she makes out of it Is up to her.
She could pay her college fees and give herself a raft while she gets back to her studies, or she could buy herself a little franchise in the mall. Sunglasses or a nail bar. I gave her a safety net and the chance to make choices. That’s all I can do.
I take out my phone to call Alessio. I want him, Carlo, and Bruno to meet me tonight at the new house.
As the long black limo slips up along the curb right beside me, I’m raising the phone. It’s connecting to Alessio. I slide in the back and look up to the front, into Mikey’s eyes in the rearview mirror. Diabolo, the black cane corso, lifts and cocks his head above the bench seat to watch me settle into the upholstery. I mouth, Market. Mikey nods as the door closes.
While I listen to Alessio’s phone ringing, I think about dinner and what I want to cook for my three men. Alessio’s low, strong voice makes his voicemail announcement. A sigh slips out of me as I listen to it.
After the beep, I tell the machine, “I’m looking forward to showing you the progress on the new house tonight. Most of all, I’m looking forward to seeing you, Alessio.” A recollection stirs of the power in his arms, the adept strength of his hands and the devastating skill in his fingers. As I hang up, I’m sinking back into the black leather upholstery, luxuriating in the supple softness.
Thinking of Alessio, I replay in my head how he made me shake and tremble in the shower last time we were together. It seems like a lifetime ago.
Alessio sends me a text back
I’ll be a little late for dinner tonight. No more than half an hour or so.
A tingle of alarm goes off in my spine. Alessio is normally straightforward and decisive. He says what he means and he doesn’t hedge with words like that. No more than half an hour or so? What’s going on?
I call him straight away.
He picks up and says my name, Lucia , into the phone as a breath. His voice is like a heavy, silken rope. A fiery buzz zings deep down inside me. I almost melt and lose my concentration.
He has a way of making everything he says sound like a dark, delicious conspiracy. My eyes close as I take a long breath.
I love the sensation. The shock and surprise I still feel, hearing his voice. A thrill, mixed with something close to the jangle of fear.
Now I’m tempted to switch to video, but I resist. Earbuds are better for listening. It’s easier to hear what people don’t say, and often what they really mean, when Im not distracted by looking at them. What I see can dominate my attention if I let it.
Then I realize, this pause has gone on a fraction of a second too long. Or maybe I’m oversensitive and on a hair trigger.
“Alessio. What’s happening?“
“Nothing. My uncle is in town and I have to see him.”
I didn’t know anything about this.
“Which uncle?” I try to keep my tone light, but I was already having to hold on to control my breathing.
“Uncle Jerry.”
“I don’t think I know him.”
“No, you probably don’t.” Probably? He knows that I don’t. “I’ll introduce you.”
“You’re not bringing him to dinner tonight, are you?”
“Hell, no.”
“But you are coming.”
“I may be late.” His tone is one I don’t recognize. It’s flat and empty.
“Alessio, are you saying you may be late but you are coming, or you might not be coming? Or is this you telling me that you’re not coming to dinner?” God, this is what old married couples sound like in restaurants. Scrapping and wrestling each other for details. Bickering about tiny things and getting lost in arguing about who said what and how they said it.
I don’t remember us ever being like this with each other. What’s brought this on?
Then he tells me, “I’ll call you. Or text you.”
So, all that and I still don’t know whether he’s coming, if I’m going to see him or not.
All that I feel certain of is there’s a whole lot Alessio is not telling me about this uncle Jerry.