Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Fabien
Twenty-one-years-old
“You’ve got every woman’s attention.” Sienna elbows me as I push the buggy full of needles and thread, fabric, zippers, and other shit that I don’t even know what it’s called.
“And only one woman’s got mine.” The truth slips out, and damn, I really am down bad.
“Good thing, because I’m the only woman in this shop under sixty-five,” she teases. “Excuse me,” Sienna asks a blue-haired worker, glancing at her name tag. “Ms. Gail, where are the bobbins?”
“Aren’t you two the picture! Oh, to be young and in love.”
Color creeps up Sienna’s neck as she looks to me, panicked, and back to the woman. “Oh, we’re not… I mean, this is only our second date.”
“Pfft. And I married my husband after our first date.”
“Smart man,” I pipe up, enjoying this far too much.
“Silver-tongued devil.” The old woman shoos away my flattery. “If it’s bobbins you want,” she tells Sienna, “I’ve got an entire collection at home you can have.”
“Really?” Excitement dances in Sienna’s eyes.
“See these gnarly fingers.” The old woman holds up her arthritic hands. “Lacemaking is for the young.”
“And you’re sure your family won’t mind?” Sienna worries.
“I’m all that’s left of my family, so I’m sure.”
The women exchange information, and I usher Sienna to the checkout.
My phone buzzes, and I see it’s Nic. “I’ve gotta take this call,” I tell her, grabbing a stack of hundreds from my wallet and handing it to her.
“But I have cash—”
“And now you have more.”
Before Sienna can argue, I slip outside, answering the call. “What’s up?”
“Ringer is at the lounge bar,” my cousin whispers.
“On my way. If he tries to leave, stall him.”
“How am I supposed to do that?”
“Have the bartender slow walk service. Barricade the door with your body. I don’t care how, just fucking stall him.”
Sienna exits the shop pushing the buggy, and I end the call and hustle over, grabbing the bags into my arms and giving the buggy a push back to the return.
“Fabien, I can carry one of those—”
“Keep it up, and I’ll carry you too,” I promise her.
“That’d be a neat trick with no free hands.” With a smirk, Sienna starts walking toward the car. I shift the bags to one hand and catch up with her, and with my free hand, I scoop it beneath her ass. “Ahhh!” Sienna squeals as I lift her feet from the ground.
“What was that?” I taunt.
“Alright, you’re strong, but how are you going to open—”
The key fob is in my hand with the bags, and I press a button. Voila, the doors open.
Sienna giggles as she sticks her tongue out at me, and I playfully snap at it with my teeth.
I get her and the bags in the car before shifting into gear and making our way across the city. “Will we have time for me to look at apartments?” Sienna asks.
“Sure, we’ll have plenty of time for you to look at my apartment, because you’re not going anywhere.”
I brace myself for an argument, but she surprises me by saying, “Okay.”
“Okay?” I glance at her.
A playful glint in her eyes, she says, “You want to see how this plays out as much as I do.”
A grin stretches across my face as I pull into the alley of the hotel.
Damn right I do.
“Why are we here?” Sienna notices where we are.
Throwing it in park, I help her out of the car. “You can hang out while I handle some business.” And maybe I’m hoping Michele catches wind of my victory lap with Sienna.
Nic may be a saint, but I am fucking not.
“If this is ‘hostess’ business, then I’m coming with you.” She stabs me in the chest with her finger.
“Look at you getting all jealous.” A ridiculous grin stretches my face as I snatch her wrist, bringing her fingers to my mouth and pressing a kiss on the pads. “I promise, I’m not involved with the day-to-day stuff.”
Sienna narrows her eyes. “It’s not the day-to-day ‘stuff’ I’m concerned with.”
That gets a chuckle out of me. “Promise you, I have no interest in those girls.”
“So you’ve never paid for a girl, besides me?” Her eyes search mine.
“Never paid for a girl, period,” I correct her. “We didn’t fuck during our time; that’s not revisionist history, but fact.”
The sound of a brass band drawing near has Sienna tilting her head. “What’s that?”
Taking her delicate hand in mine, I lead her out of the alley and to the sidewalk. Her eyes are wide as she takes in the bride and groom twirling umbrellas in the middle of the street. The band plays a bluesy tune while guests follow in the back of the procession, waving handkerchiefs overhead.
“Second line. A New Orleans wedding tradition,” I say against her ear.
As if fate hasn’t been subtle enough, it’s like being hit over the head with a trumpet. Without a doubt, I’m going to marry this woman.
The realization unfurls in my chest. No panic. No fear. Just the steady rhythm of my heart.
Sienna’s unusual eyes fix on mine, searching, probing, as if she can pluck the thoughts from my mind. “Aren’t you scared we’re moving too fast?”
“No. You?”
She considers thoughtfully. “No, but I feel like I should be.”
“Come to Sunday dinner with me and meet my family.”
She shakes her head with a little laugh. “I tell you that I should be scared we’re moving too fast, and you double down.”
“A man knows when he has a winning hand.” My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I mentally curse, remembering why we’re here. “Let’s go.”
Leading her inside the hotel and to the front desk, I tell the clerk, “Presidential suite.”
“Yes, Mr. Calvani,” the woman says quickly, handing over the keycards.
Sienna’s mouth is hanging open as I usher her to the private elevator and scan one of the cards, placing it in her hands as I pocket the other. “Order room service and chill, and I’ll meet you in a little bit.”
Before she can argue, I shoo her into the elevator, pressing the close button.
With a spring in my step, I enter the lounge, finding Ringer seated alone in a booth. Nic catches my eye, and I signal for him to hang tight as I make my way to the back.
Ringer pretends he doesn’t see me as I approach. “Welcome to NOLA, Agent Ringer. Or should I say, Special Agent in Charge Ringer. Big congrats.”
“Do I know you?” Ringer says in a disinterested tone, swirling the amber liquid in his tumbler.
Like he fucking doesn’t know who I am.
“Fabien Calvani.” I extend my hand, and we shake. Figured he’d have a limp noodle of a handshake, but the man tries to outmuscle me. I let him, only because it’s funny that he thinks he could.
“Calvani, Calvani,” he says, like he’s trying to place the name.
“We can cut to the chase, Ringer,” I inform him. “Let’s take a walk outside and grab a smoke. Have a chat.” In the event the fucker’s bugged the table.
“You don’t smoke, Mr. Calvani.”
“Aww, I’ve got a secret admirer.” My hackles raise, but I play it cool as I slide into the booth across from him.
“It’s no secret: New Orleans has been out of sight, out of mind for far too long. The Bureau plans to rectify this problem.”
“Good for the Bureau,” I say in a patronizing tone. “And what’s first on your crime-fighting agenda?”
“Depends,” he says with a cat that got the canary smile.
With the lift of my hand and the snap of my fingers, Nic comes bounding over, plugging in a recording-jammer before disappearing.
“Nifty little device. Except I’m getting the feeling you don’t trust me,” Ringer says with a pout.
“Don’t know you well enough to trust you. If we’re going to talk shop, I want us to be able to speak freely.”
“Of course. So let me speak freely.” He leans forward. “You and your old man want the same cushy deal like the one you have with the Baton Rouge office? Then I want my cut.”
“How much? Hypothetically, of course.”
“Of course. In exchange for my office focusing on other issues in this city, I’ll expect fifty grand a month—a mix of cash and cryptocurrency. An open tab at the lounge and female companionship when I’m here.”
“Twenty grand a month, and I’ll agree to the rest of those terms,” I counter.
“Twenty-five, and I won’t go a penny lower,” he warns.
That’s good, because I wasn’t willing to go a penny higher. “Deal.” We shake, and the fucker still tries to outmuscle me.
“Outstanding. I’ll be in touch with my crypto account details and coordinates for the monthly cash drop.” He finishes his drink, slamming down the crystal. “Leave a nice tip for me.” Sliding out of the booth, he strolls out of the lounge like he owns the place.
Can already tell I don’t like this fucker.
“Interesting that you’re making deals instead of Vitto.” Michele appears, a cigar hanging from his mouth.
“Are you questioning my authority, Michele?” I slide out of the booth, rising to full height. Michele may intimidate some family members; I’m not one of them.
His chest puffs like a turkey fluffing its feathers. “You’d best believe, boy, I’m not eating those costs.”
“If times are that hard for you, Michele, then I’d suggest keeping up with Ringer’s expenses,” I say in a mocking tone. “You’ll be reimbursed, minus your stake.”
“And what stake is that?” he challenges.
“We all have to pay to play with the feds; you’re not an exception to that rule. I’ll be in the penthouse with my girl if you need any more handholding.” I can’t help but give him a parting shoulder check as I start towards the exit.
“How much is Sienna charging you?”
Spinning around, I march back and get in Michele’s face. “Sienna is out, and I don’t want to hear my girl’s name in your mouth again.”
He slams his palm on the table. “You’re costing my racket a pretty penny, boy.”
“Michele, you know damn well Sienna should have never been a part of your racket to begin with. You disobeyed a direct order.” My hand slides into my pocket, retrieving my ice pick as I bring it down between his fingers, embedding it in the wood.
Cursing, he jerks his hand away.
“I’ll let it slide this time, Michele. But one freebie is all I’m willing to give.”
Michele’s face shades crimson. “Threatening a capo over a whore? What would Vitto say about that?”
“Damn, Michele.” I whistle. “Thought you had a hard-on for my girl, but turns out you’ve got one for the boss.”
His face twists from red to purple. “Tell your old man the capos want a sit-down.”
“Tell him yourself. I’m not your fetch-it boy.” Jerking my ice pick embedded between the wood grain, I storm to the exit, where Nic is waiting. “Walk with me.”
He follows me to the elevator, where I scan the additional room card, and we enter. Jamming the close button with the spike of my pick, I glance over to my cousin.
“Way to play it cool.”
“He thinks I’m going to tolerate his disrespect when I’m boss?” I pocket my weapon of choice.
Nic holds up his hands in surrender. “He doesn’t know that you might be boss sooner than he realizes. No one does.”
“And we’re keeping it that way until Vitto says otherwise.”
We reach the penthouse level, and the door opens. “Does this mean I’m invited on your date?”
“Go away.”
His hand falls dramatically to his heart. “Use me as your personal dinner-dasher; I see how it is.”
“Do you?” I deadpan.
“When do I get to officially meet your girl?”
“Sunday dinner.”
Nic whistles. “Already bringing her home to the family. Real down bad.”
Guilty.