Chapter Two Nico
Chapter Two
Nico
‘Hey, Frankie,’ Lee says. Then she nudges me so she can slip out from the booth and Frankie ‘The Shark’ Martelli kisses her enthusiastically on both cheeks.
‘I see you took my advice about visiting the bar,’ he beams at her.
‘Was it advice?’ Lee asks dryly. ‘It felt more like an order.’
‘A beautiful woman like you really classes up the place. It’s good for business.’
I think my head is going to explode. Lee, as usual, looks utterly unruffled. It’s as if ageing mobsters fawn over her all the time. Maybe they do. Lee’s life is a bit of a mystery to me, and to be honest I’ve tried to keep it that way.
It’s not a good look to be too interested in your best friend’s little sister. Especially when that sister is Lee – insanely bright, funny and – sure, I have eyes – extremely beautiful.
That poor dope behind the bar was practically drooling over her when I showed up.
Not that I could blame him. She made quite the picture, sitting alone, one leg swung over the other, the red soles of her dangerously high heels peeking out from under her black trousers, her honey-gold hair pulled back in a long, soft braid.
She looked so put-together and elegant, all buttoned up in a silky white shirt, like a gift waiting to be unwrapped. Slowly.
At least that’s what I assume that Jake character was thinking. I was very careful not to think things like that. I’d been careful in that direction for years. I definitely didn’t feel the wild, momentary urge to punch that guy right in the mouth.
‘Frankie, this is my old friend, Nico Hart,’ Lee says now, making the introductions. ‘Nico, this is Frankie Martelli. He owns the hotel.’
Yeah, along with half the strip.
I keep my expression neutral as I lean over to shake his hand. Frankie’s grip is firm, and there’s a paternal glint in his eye as he looks between me and Lee. His hand tightens briefly around mine before he lets go, and I understand the warning. Hurt her and I’ll break your legs.
With Frankie Martelli it’s not an idle threat.
‘This your guy, Lee?’ Frankie asks, still watching me from behind the enormous glasses that magnify his eyes, but Lee only laughs.
‘No, Nico is Jack’s best friend. We actually grew up next door to each other.’
‘Is that so?’ Frankie still doesn’t exactly look friendly, but his posture relaxes slightly. ‘Well, any friend of Lee’s is a friend of ours here at the Coliseum. Anything you want, consider it comped.’
‘That’s very kind of you, sir,’ I reply, still bemused.
‘Not with all the money this one saved me this week.’ Frankie turns to Lee, and the tough guy pose melts away entirely. ‘I came to ask if you’d join me and the boys for poker again, but I can see you’re busy.’
What. The. Fuck?
‘Oh,’ a small line appears between Lee’s brows, ‘well, maybe Nico can join us? He and Jack are actually the ones who taught me to play poker.’
I smile at the memory. ‘Yeah, you were nine and you absolutely hustled us.’
Frankie exhales a wheezy laugh. ‘You played her recently?’
‘Not for years.’
Amusement glimmers in his eyes. ‘Come along then, it’d be nice to watch her fleece someone who isn’t a frail old man.’
‘Frankie!’ Lee actually gives the fucking Shark a little shove. ‘First of all, you and that motley crew are hardly frail old men.’
Frankie pulls a leather case from the breast pocket of his jacket and extracts a cigar, clamping it between his teeth. ‘We’re a virile bunch,’ he agrees, around the sides of the unlit cigar.
‘And I don’t fleece people,’ Lee continues primly, as if he hasn’t spoken. ‘If you don’t want to risk losing then you shouldn’t play.’
I stare at her, this tiny blonde woman scolding the one-time leader of the Martelli crime family. And he’s beaming down at her like he loves it.
Lee darts a look at me, and takes a deep breath before turning back to Frankie. ‘Do you think it would be okay… if Nico took some pictures of the game?’
My spine straightens and I try to hide my surprise.
‘Pictures?’ Frankie frowns.
‘Nico’s an amazing photographer,’ Lee says earnestly, and then she’s fishing her phone out of her handbag and showing Frankie some of my work, which she apparently has saved for easy access.
I watch as she murmurs something about the photographs she pulls up, and I catch her name-dropping various publications I’ve worked with.
Whatever she’s saying has Frankie looking grudgingly impressed, but he’s still hesitant. ‘I don’t know, Lee, the fellas might not like it…’
‘You know they’ll say yes if you do,’ Lee insists. Her smile turns sly. ‘And Nico already told me you have a great face.’
‘This old mug?’ Those magnified eyes swing towards me again.
I shrug, trying not to look too invested in the outcome. ‘It’s true. Plus, in my experience, interesting subjects make interesting photographs.’
‘Hmmm,’ Frankie sniffs, but I can tell he’s on the hook. ‘You got your camera with you?’
‘Not right this second but it’s in my room.’
‘Bring it along and we’ll see.’ He turns his attention back to Lee. ‘We’re meeting in the back room at seven.’
‘We’ll see you there,’ Lee nods, and then the two of us watch in silence as Frankie leaves, calling out greetings to people as he goes.
‘That was Frankie Martelli!’ I exclaim when he’s out of earshot. ‘You just got Frankie Martelli to agree to a photo shoot.’
‘I know. I told you, he owns the hotel.’
‘He’s a mobster, Lee.’
She laughs. ‘Frankie? He’s a sweetheart.’
‘He used to be the head of the Martelli crime family until he “retired” a couple of decades ago and his son took over.’ I keep my voice low. ‘He’s a proper, old-school gangster. He practically ran Las Vegas in the late Sixties. He shook hands with Sinatra!’ I finish a little desperately.
‘He has no criminal convictions,’ Lee frowns. ‘Nothing that was flagged in background. I think you’re wrong. Well, except about the Sinatra thing, Frankie told me that himself. He has some great stories.’ She smiles at this, the rare, wide smile that makes twin dimples appear in her cheeks.
I laugh. ‘I’m not wrong. Although he’s cleaned up his image a lot. Gone legit.’
‘Oh, well then,’ Lee shrugs, spectacularly unworried by this information. ‘I suppose that makes sense. He’s a very astute businessman, you know.’
‘Yeah, I bet,’ I manage. ‘So, are you going to tell me how the hell you’ve become poker buddies with the guy?’
‘I met Frankie at a work event a couple of years ago and we hit it off. We stayed in touch and he hired me to take care of some business for him.’
‘You’re his accountant?’ I say in disbelief. ‘You,’ I point at her, ‘are Frankie Martelli’s accountant?’
‘I wish you’d stop saying his name like that,’ Lee huffs. ‘Whatever he did in the past, now he’s a respected member of the community.’
‘Sorry.’ I try to keep the laughter out of my voice and appear properly chastised. ‘So. You’re his accountant?’ I say again, and I keep my tone carefully neutral this time.
‘I’m one of his accountants,’ Lee says vaguely.
‘You’ve been – what – helping him with his taxes?’ I prod, thinking about the comment Frankie made about her saving him money.
Lee looks wary now, and picks an invisible fleck from her trousers. ‘I’m not that type of accountant.’
That gives me pause. I’ve never thought much about Lee’s job, which I now realise makes me a pretty shitty friend. ‘What type of accountant are you?’
‘I’m a freelance forensic accountant.’ Seeing my blank look at this, she adds, ‘I investigate potential financial crimes.’
‘So you’re investigating Frankie?’
‘No!’ She rolls her eyes. ‘When he ran into a problem, he asked me to go over his accounts and look out for any… anomalies.’
‘Holy shit,’ I breathe, leaning forward. ‘Don’t tell me someone was stupid enough to try and steal from The Shark?’
Lee purses her lips. ‘Client confidentiality prevents me from answering that question.’
‘So that’s a yes, then. I can’t believe anyone thought they’d get away with it.’
‘Hypothetically,’ Lee says, ‘as Frankie heads an enormous business operation, it would be possible for a person to help themselves to relatively small amounts over long periods of time that would fail to raise any red flags. If they were careful and very, very clever.’
‘Not clever enough apparently.’ I eye her with appreciation. ‘So you’ve uncovered the thief and handed them over to Frankie. I don’t like their chances.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Nicolas,’ Lee says, and she sounds so much like her grandmother that it makes me grin. ‘Naturally, I have passed on all the relevant materials to the authorities myself. Frankie knew that was one of my conditions when he contracted me.’
‘Why on earth would he agree to that?’
‘Because I’m extremely good at my job, and Frankie only hires the best.’ She pauses. ‘And because he’s not the criminal mastermind you seem determined to paint him as. You’ll see tonight when he’s showing you pictures of his grandchildren and reminiscing with his friends.’
‘Yeah, yeah, and tell me, do his friends all have names like Freddie-Four-Fingers and Billy the Fish?’
Her dimples quiver. ‘One of them is called Spuds, for reasons I have yet to determine.’
‘He probably used to beat people to death with a potato.’
‘Or he enjoys a nice plate of chips.’
‘Or that.’ I lean back. ‘Either way, I can’t believe we’re going to spend tonight playing poker with Frankie Martelli, and I get to take pictures of it. What a story! We’ll be telling the grandkids about this one.’
Lee gives a little huff of laughter. ‘Grandkids? Chance would be a fine thing.’
‘No future Mr Lee Turner-Jones on the horizon?’
‘My romantic life is a bit of a wasteland at the moment.’ She fiddles with her shirt cuff.
‘You’ll meet someone,’ I say, and I don’t have to fake my confidence. Lee is absolutely the sort of woman you marry. If you’re the sort of person who gets married, that is.
‘I’m thirty-one,’ Lee sighs. ‘I’ve been thinking I need to get a move on.’
‘Yes, I didn’t like to say anything but you’re giving off real aged spinster vibes. You’ve no money and no prospects, you’re already a burden to your parents… and you’re frightened.’
She laughs, and some of the tension leaves her eyes. ‘Please, Nico. You know better. We only recognise the 1995 Pride and Prejudice adaptation in my family.’
‘But, Lee,’ I counter, ‘what about the hand flex?’
Her eyebrows arch. ‘I’ll give you the hand flex, but that is all the ground I’ll concede. And you’d be wise to accept that as the final word on the subject if you ever want to binge the entire BBC box set with Gran and me again.’
‘Fair enough.’
‘Anyway,’ Lee continues. ‘The point is I haven’t been in a relationship for ages and I live with my eighty-two-year-old grandmother. Most of the time I’d rather hang out with her than drag myself out on a date with anyone.’
‘That makes perfect sense. I’d rather hang out with Gran than go on a date, too. Besides,’ I continue, ‘we’re here in Las Vegas, at one of the most exclusive hotels in the world, and we can have anything we want, free of charge. Now isn’t the time to be moping.’
‘You’re right.’ Lee straightens in her seat, a funny look of determination settling on her face. ‘I can let loose for once. I can… live a little. What’s the harm? We’ve got forty minutes before the poker game. What do you want to do?’
I glance over at the bar and then I turn back to her and smile.
‘Which do you think is their most expensive bottle of champagne?’