“On his mother’s side.” Cesaro flashes a line of perfect white teeth in my direction.
I blank for a moment—on both Arturo’s name and this supposed relative. Cesaro catches it.
“He doesn’t even know who Arturo is?” he scoffs. He whips his head around, sweeping a hank of hair off his face. “Did you just pick this guy off the street?”
Beefer opens his mouth to defend me, but I give him an abrupt shake of my head before opening the rear car door. I like my low profile. If Arturo’s nephew thinks I’m nothing more than a scrub, what do I care?
The only disappointment here is that we’re not killing him, because I can already tell he’s a guy that at least needs a good pistol-whipping. I buckle up and ask, “What’s the plan?”
It’s Cesaro that answers rather than Beefer. “We’re going to the Underground, bro. I hear that’s where the hottest pussy is these days. Actresses, models, socialites.”
“The Underground?”
Tam playfully punches me in the shoulder. “Leka takes care of his little sister. He doesn’t get out much. It’s a club, dude. Think dance floor, skinny dresses, fuck-me shoes, lots of booze.”
“Isn’t that over in the Red’s territory?” Never mind the women or the booze, the Underground isn’t owned by the business, which means the guns inside won’t be in the hands of friendlies. “What’s wrong with the place on Oak Street?”
Arturo liked to go to that one when he wanted to go to a club at all. There was a VIP section behind bulletproof glass. He’d sit up there with a few women and be entertained—both by the women on their knees around him or grinding against each other on the floor. There were a surprising number of chicks who didn’t mind exchanging fluids with Arturo in exchange for free drinks and the so-called honor of sitting in the VIP lounge for one night.
Whatever was good enough for Arturo should be good enough for his nephew.
“Cesaro wants to go to the Underground, so that’s where we’re going,” Beefer says flatly. Translation: he doesn’t like it either, but there’s not much we can do about it.
“Are we expecting trouble?” I ask. “Not that I care, but I like to be prepared.” I dip my head forward to the dark SUV ahead of us. I’m certain Beefer’s spotted that one and the one behind us. Three cars full of muscle to take a single guy that I could probably break in half with my left hand seems overkill, but what do I know?
“Nah, but we can’t let anything happen to the boss’s nephew. Looks bad.” Beefer and I make eye contact in the rearview. So Arturo delivered the message himself, and if Cesaro comes home without having had the time of his life, then we’re the problem.
“What’s wrong with our girls, Cesaro? Didn’t you get a good look at them? We’ve got some hot ones. I like that redhead. What’s her name?” Tam nudges me.
“No clue.” I look out the window. The girls come and go. I don’t keep track of them.
“Claire,” Beefer offers. “And, yeah, C-man, you lay eyes on Claire? She’s got more curves than Bugatti.”
Cesaro shrugs his shoulders and then lights a cigarette. Beefer’s jaw tightens. This is his ride and it’s fucked that Cesaro didn’t ask.
“Some of the girls Uncle Art has collected aren’t bad, but they’re all used. I don’t want some pussy that’s been destroyed by everyone else’s dick. Like that chick I got last night. I never felt a pussy so loose. It was like she stuck the entire contents of a clown car up her snatch.” He laughs. “You guys had that Mary chick?”
Tam and I both stare at the back of Beefer’s head. By now his jaw is so tight, I worry it’s going to crack. Mary still works at Marjory’s, although that’s putting a shine on it. She sits in a booth while the rest of the crew work their tails off, but because she’s on Arturo’s dick regularly, she gets away with it.
I’m fairly sure that Beefer still has feelings for her. I know he’s slept with her on occasion when she’s bored and Arturo is busy with other women. No one’s allowed to talk smack about her, not in his presence.
It’s gotta be killing him not to say anything to Cesaro, who’s going on about “her saggy tits. Dude, and her snatch smelled like fish. She wanted me to go down on her, which is fucked up.” He pauses to take a drag.
I jump in so Beefer doesn’t fuck up his relationship with Arturo over some faithless shit like Mary. “That sucks, man.”
Cesaro twists in his seat. “Yeah, so you know what I’m talking about. There was no friction. It was like I was fucking air. The old Rosie Palm gives better than that bitch.” He holds up his hand and waves it at me.