VINCENZO
It's been a while since I've had sex. Well, three months. I fell into a bit of a funk after discovering Claudia's affair with Sammy. She wasn't the love of my life, but she was perfect for what I needed. She's Italian, comes from a good family, and looked good on my arm.
I'm not the kind of bloke who doesn't spring up after I've been knocked down or anything, but the Claudia thing blind-sided me. She seemed to be in love with me. Sure, she would sometimes complain that I wasn't very romantic or spontaneous. But I thought she understood that a man in my position didn't have time for such frivolities.
I needed a wife who would handle the social aspects of my life and serve as my feminine mirror and representative in society. Was that too much to ask?
I haven't really felt like going out on dates or even bar-hopping to look for women to warm my bed. Still, while I was out having a late dinner with some business associates a couple of nights ago, a beautiful young woman crossed my line of sight and caught my eye. Tall, slender, yet curvy with milky-white skin, hazel eyes, and auburn hair, Rebecca Kane whetted my appetite like a rack of delicious lamb after I've deprived myself for months.
My secretary Ms. Lee, who lives to alternately torment and mock me, reserved a spot for two at Laissez Faire, a contemporary French-Creole restaurant located in one of our five-star hotels, this one in Downtown LA, not too far from my penthouse on Spring Street. If I had known Ms. Lee was going to pull such a prank, I wouldn't have bothered to ask her.
I don't need reservations at that damn restaurant. I own it.
Now Rebecca will think I'm showing off.
I'd blown up at Ms. Lee today. She's my most reliable employee, and I can always count on her for quality work. But her little mishap with the documents this afternoon really ticked me off. She spilled tea on precious paperwork? That doesn't sound like something she'd do. I'd wanted to get all those contracts into Legal before the end of the quarter because having all our rental spaces filled for the next year would look good on the report for our investors.
Normally, I wouldn't have made such a fuss, but this particular setback was just the icing on my shit-cake. 6TT refuses to confer with Sigue-Sigue, so a bloodbath is almost guaranteed, especially if the Laotians, who also want a piece of Arcadia, ally with 6TT. Manny and Tyrone got their own shit to deal with, especially with this new group of upstarts from a Tijuana cartel showing up in their hood, flashing money, and looking to start a business.
The boys can't make a move against these new motherfuckers because they don't know who's backing them. They appeared out of nowhere with serious firepower and hardware. Since El Chapo's arrest two years ago, cartel activity quieted down for a few months but surged back up recently. We still don't know who the new players are. These assholes don't play by the old-world rules. El Chapo's arrest scared a lot of his backers into hiding, and a lot of them have yet to resurface, but someone is funding these new cartels, and if the Mexicans have allied with the Russians just as I've been fearing, shit will hit the fan.
If I'm going to war with the Russians, I'm gonna need more than my boys at my side. I'll have to… fuck, I don't know, make a deal with the Warui or the Triads, and I really don't want to have to do that. I'm trying to mitigate the future body count. My Harvard MBA curriculum did not include “collusion with international crime syndicates.” Plus, if Papa found out I went outside the family for help, he’d have my testicles for dinner. The old man is very much an isolationist and has a “we stick with our own” mentality. He wouldn’t go for “the United Colors of Benetton but for gang members” crap. He doesn’t seem to understand that businesses must become globalists to survive in this new world.
After my less-than-stellar day at work, I decided I was going to have a nice, relaxing evening with a beautiful young woman of my choosing. If she were lucky, I’d make her breakfast tomorrow before kicking her out.
“Looking good, boss,” said Barnes, one of the guys who used to be tight with Sammy but seems to be working out well with Lee at the helm.
I adjust my Burberry tie in the mirror. Maybe I should forgo the tie. Black Armani jacket, white silk shirt, and black trousers. The restaurant is not super-fancy, and I could probably get away with not wearing a tie. I frown at my reflection.
“Boss, I think you should wear this one.” Barnes hands me an emerald-green Armani silk necktie. “It’ll make your eyes pop.”
I squint at him in the mirror. “Have you been binge-watching those runway shows in your spare time, Barnes?”
The younger man’s chubby, Nebraskan corn-fed cheeks turn bright red. “No, boss. I’m just really good at color-coordinating.”
I slap his arm. “I’m just fucking with you, kid. Relax. Tell the crew to get ready. We’re rolling out in–” I quickly check the time. “Twenty minutes.”
“We gotta pick up the dame, boss?”
I smirk. I swear, some of these guys must read Mickey Spillane in their spare time or watch old Humphrey Bogart movies. “No, Barnes. The lady will be making her way to the venue on her own. Did you pick up the flowers like I told you?”
The bodyguard scratches the back of his neck. “Yes, boss. I didn’t even know a flower like that existed. Ranunculus. It’s really pretty. The lady must be special, huh?”
I slip the tie Barnes recommended around my neck and begin to work on the knot. “Barnes, they’re all special. That’s the trick. A lady wants to feel like her gentleman cares and thinks about her all day. That’s why, this afternoon, I sent her roses.”
“That ought to seal the deal, eh, boss.” The kid prods me with his elbow.
I turn my head to give him a look, and he immediately hops back to cede me some space. “A gentleman never assumes such things, Barnes. Don’t be uncouth.”
Rebeccaand I were supposed to meet at eight, but she texted me on my drive over to let me know she would be a few minutes late. I clench my jaw. One of my pet peeves is tardiness. I make a special effort to show up on time, so I expect nothing less from my companions.
I go up to the maêtre d’ who immediately recognizes me and tries to kiss my ass, but I put a stop to it.
“Monsieur Renault, please don’t make a fuss and tell your staff to treat me as they would any other guest. I don’t need servers coming up to our table every four minutes to ask us if we’re enjoying our meal. Will you please make sure I’m given privacy this evening?”
“Mais oui, Mr. San Giovanni. This way, please. I’ll escort the young lady to your table myself when she arrives.” The maêtre d’ walks me down a dimly-lit corridor that leads to the main restaurant. “Your assistant did not specify what kind of table you would prefer. Would you like one of our private rooms, or would you like a table with a nice view of the city instead?”
I smile to myself. Oh, Ms. Lee.