He handles the electronic transfers and I quickly locate the information I seek as I stand flipping through his desktop files. I find an accounting program and after opening it I can see he received an electronic transfer from an account that he has noted in a spreadsheet that is from the Micheli family. I will check it out for myself. It could be money for coke or use of the docks. Mafia dealings are all convoluted.
I’m careful to wipe my fingerprints off everything and turn the alarms back on after I leave. I love knowing exactly where people are when I use skills my family, who are now my enemies, don’t know about.
2
Sal
Iobserve the club, the music is loud and I’m ready to go home. Pushing back the cuff of my designer dress shirt I glance at my Breitling Aviator watch. It’s not the most expensive from my collection, but it fit my mood this evening when I got dressed for work. Seeing as how it’s one-thirty in the morning, we’ll be closing soon.
It’s not as busy as I’d like but I can’t complain, there’s never a bad day and it just means I can dump more money into the till to launder it. I stroll around and check in with the staff and greet a few guests that are familiar faces, with heavy spending habits. I make sure to give them attention as it’s all part of the VIP scene.
I notice a woman with light chestnut brown hair and ashy blonde highlights. The lighting is low, but as I circulate closer our eyes casually meet. Her cool green eyes give me an unabashed going-over. She turns away and begins to fidget with the paper napkin under her Cosmo. I have a feeling we’re both checking out my club. Only she looks more like she’s casing it, while I’m looking for intruders who come in many forms.
Namely-gangs and other mafia personnel looking to score.
If she’s trying to be inconspicuous, she should have brought a date for cover and lost the rope-size gold chain with the large diamond pendant. Wearing jewelry like that is just begging for the wrong kind of attention and a clunk on the head.
Normally, girls come here to get picked up, but I see men approaching her, making what I assume is light conversation and leaving a minute later. She remains solo in an area designed for guests to mingle when the dance floor is packed.
I can’t figure out what’s up with this chick and find it nearly impossible to tear my eyes away from her, she’s unique. Thirsty for a closer look, I walk around the room again, pretending to check out the patrons and the servers, but I’m kidding myself.
I check out her round firm ass as she leans lightly over the high-top table for two with one knee slightly bent, showing off her toned legs and thin ankles in her four-inch-high heels. I notice a black rose tattoo on her ankle as I walk by.
The loud music with its booming bass makes the top-of-the-line speakers vibrate, almost matching the pressure in my eardrums. It is too noisy to make conversation, which is why theguards and bouncers wear earpieces. I do too, occasionally.
I love music, it’s a universal language—a language of love, lust, or passion. I only allow myself to experience lust. There isn't room for long term commitment or love in my life or line of work. Sure, I had Carla, but I can’t get serious enough to keep a good thing. It’s been a few months, mostly, I’m just horny. And she deserves someone better.
We picked the name The Red Grotto for the club because my family is used to bleeding—bleeding blood, pride, and at times, money. We’ve taken all that and more from others to get where we are today. When we’re threatened, blood will be spilled.
This year, Florence delivered an exceptionally hot summer and even though it’s September, it’s way too hot and some days are in the nineties. Between the heatwave and Dante and Juliet crawling all over each other, there were times they had to leave the room before we all got a steam bath.
I’m happy for them but can’t let Dante live down the fact that he swore he’d be a bachelor forever. I guess true love can do that to a guy.
I stand behind the bar and check my phone. I’m not stalking my ex . . . I just like to see where she is and who she is hanging out with on social media. We were a couple close to a year, and I do miss the friendship, but I am what I am.
A player. I like to flirt. I’m the life of the party and I’m only serious about work. Not only do I run this bar, but I’m involved in the construction side of our business as well.
I don’t have time to wine and dine women but when they find out I’m the owner of the club, their panties hit the floor. I use my father’s condo here in Florence as a crash pad and for one-night stands. Carla is the only girlfriend I ever brought to my house in the hills overlooking Florence’s vineyards in the countryside.
She was right to leave my sorry ass. I kissed another woman. It was a dare, but I have to admit, I liked it. Everyone knows Italian men are excellent lovers who find it difficult to be faithful. I’m not sure I’m capable of being faithful to one woman for the rest of my life—I’m afraid I’ll lose interest and be miserable.
This club definitely delivers when it comes to the unspoken language of flirtation with its dirty dancing, wanton looks, and knowing smiles. It’s all fun regardless of the outcome. Foreplay is the fun part where bodies bump and grind into each other until it leads to a heated hook-up. See, no words are needed, and most of the time, that’s just how I like it.
With a name like The Red Grotto, the walls are painted a dark red to look like the inside of arossocave. The decorating is sheer genius and it’s a comfortable vibe that our customers love.
We spared no expense building this club and have hand blown Murano glass lights hang over the numerous bars that give a touch of modern elegance to the marble bar tops. One lounge area even has a waterfall cascading down a wall, providing the ambiance of the coast. Italy has many fountains and we decided to decorate by bringing the outside, inside.
This is our version of the Blue Grotto, only it’s red. The real one is situated off the coast of Capri and is such a gorgeous place to visit that if I close my eyes I can pretend I’m heading into light waves with sand sticking to my feet. It is a routine destination for the Etruscans of Italy as well as tourists from the around the world.
Lost in my thoughts, I find myself under the staircase that leads to the VIP room upstairs and Iturn back for one last look at the mysterious girl. She’s still in the same spot, her body gently moving to the beat of the music. I watch as she sways her hips just enough to allow her clingy mini dress to showcase her voluptuous ass. I find myself aroused and turn away. She interacts with her waitress and she’s watching couples on the dance floor.
I like to people watch, part of it is the job, part is survival. But even I know that a woman can make a man come undone and subsequently be the death of him. The luxury of being distracted is one that I can’t afford.
How is it that she’s here by herself? She’s far too attractive to not have a date with her. It’s not her dress or her looks, but something tells me she’s not from here. We’re very cosmopolitan these days. Around here, girls don’t go to clubs alone unless they are desperate to get picked up or they are prostitutes, and I can tell she’s neither. I try to place her. She seems vaguely familiar, but I can’t make the connection.
I pause when I notice two strange men who don’t look VIP-ish walking upstairs to the VIP area. I follow them. Remaining casual and inconspicuous, I breeze past them, pretending I don’t see them selling drugs to the guests in the lounge. It’s unacceptable but I’m not surprised.
The hottest DJ in the city is pumping up the crowd and yells into the microphone for them to make some noise and everyone yells, just as word comes over my earpiece we are at maximum capacity. The music changes to hip hop as the DJ knows to mix Italian with American and other European hits. Italy has laws that dictate how much of the music on the radio stations has to be Italian to preserve our culture and now, the Italian language. Who says modernization and change is always good?