Chapter Thirty-Seven

Leandra

Staring in the dressing room mirror, debating over whether or not to smash the damn thing entirely, I let out a sigh of disgust.

Nine sexy dresses and not one single standout as the perfect choice for fight night.  I had been to three stores and my patience was rapidly dwindling.  It was already Thursday afternoon, nothing in my entire closet was suitable for the high profile event, and I needed a fucking outfit right this very second.

A knock sounded on the changing room door just as my phone rang.  The caller ID showed it as being Bennie, so I quickly answered and told him to wait a second.

“Excuse me, ma’am, but I think I have a few more options for you.  Would any of these work?”

I took the four dresses that the sales clerk handed me, while absentmindedly wondering why it was taking so long to complete one simple task.

“Are you the owner of this boutique?” I asked, eager to go right to the top of the food chain.

“No.  That would be my aunt.  I’m ‘only’ the manager, person in charge of scheduling employees, the girl who has to work late when someone calls in sick, and the one responsible for ordering every single stitch of fabric in the entire place.”

She used air quotes for the word ‘only’ and gave me a weary look once finished with her little speech.

Choosing to ignore the verbal meltdown, I perused the selections she’d made for me.  One gaudy silver number instantly caught my eye.

Holding it up for a closer examination, I was nearly blinded by the cheap looking rhinestones that covered a good portion of the dress.

“Too trashy.  I’m going for more of an ‘I want to fuck her but she’s clearly out of my league so I dare not approach and make a fool of myself’ kind of vibe.  Do you have anything like that?”

“Hmm,” the blonde replied, deep in thought.  “I think I know what you’re getting at.  I keep a few extra special numbers hidden in back for just such an occasion.  Let me see what I can find.”

While she ran off to dig deeper in the fashion archives, I picked up the phone to see what information my accountant had to share.

“What’s up, Bennie?”

“I have an update on the fight schedule and a small question about a large bet, Miss Donahue.”

“What kind of an update?” I asked impatiently.  My reputation was riding on fight night, and I was eager to put on a good show.  That’s another reason my wardrobe was so important.  You only get one chance to make a first impression.  I had every intention of knocking them dead.

“Well, there were originally supposed to be four matches.  The Barsotti family had planned three bouts with their Italian fighters set to compete against common street thugs.  The grand finale consisted of the main event…one Barsotti champion versus a particularly ruthless brute flown in directly from Sicily.  All that changed with the truce between our group and theirs.”

I already knew all this, but I didn’t want to be rude and rush him to the important part.  Bennie liked to be methodical and present all the details.  Any interruption would derail him from the task at hand, get him flustered, and disrupt his thought process.

“Mr. Angelo Barsotti decided to keep the fight with the Sicilian Sensation, get rid of the street thugs, and add in our strong Irish soldiers to compete against his Italian warriors.  Unfortunately, the four scheduled matches just went down to three.”

“Why?”

“It would appear that one of his men is currently in the hospital due to a bit of a lover’s quarrel.  According to the rumor circulating, the man is engaged and his betrothed caught him in bed with another woman.  She tried to chop off a very important part of the male anatomy and he’s in surgery right now with the hopes of reattaching his…um…his…um…”

“It’s okay, Bennie.  I can fill in the puzzle pieces and figure out what you’re trying to say.  Whose fight got cancelled?”

Fritz, Hawk, and Grizzly were all set to represent our crew in the evening’s line-up.  I crossed my fingers and prayed that it was the only man not part of my master plan.

“Fritz,” he replied, sending my heart soaring. 

“Excellent.  We can proceed as planned.  I have no problem with that.”

“There is the small matter of the large bet, Miss Donahue.  I believe it’s wise to run it past you for approval.”

Bennie was my chief bookie and the man in charge of all wagers placed by our gambling customers on fight night.  Yes, the Italians had their own underground betting system, but I had mine too.  The two groups would merge into one arena for the sporting event, but there was no trust among thieves and all betting remained separate for the time being.

“This event is generating a lot of buzz, Bennie.  It’s not necessary to get my approval on every single bet.”

“I beg to differ, Miss Donahue.  The amount is sixty thousand dollars…and it’s being made by your bodyguard.  Samuel hasn’t ever made a wager this size and I’m not sure he has the funds to cover it.  Shall I proceed?  Things could get ugly if he loses, ma’am.”

I let out a low whistle. 

The plot thickens indeed.

Once Bennie confessed who Samuel was betting on, I told my accountant to up my wager on the same contender.  I went from twenty-five grand to a whopping hundred thousand dollars.  Either we’d both win big or suffer a crushing loss.

In this case, Samuel had a lot more to lose than I did.  Forcing myself to do some math, I crunched the numbers.  By my calculations…taking into account the medical debt he’s paid off for his father…which I knew because I did some reconnaissance…that bet must have been Samuel’s entire savings from all the money he’s earned  working for me. 

My bodyguard would either go broke or have a cool hundred and twenty grand burning a hole in his pocket. 

I hung up the phone with Bennie and took a moment to consider this new bit of information.  What exactly was Samuel planning on doing with such a large sum of money if he won?

Before I could further contemplate the mystery, another knock sounded on my dressing room door.

“I scoured every corner of the back room and came up with a few hidden gems for you.  How about these?”

The saleswoman held up an outstretched arm with three hangers.

No.

Completely Wrong.

Holy shit.  Yes.  Fuck yes.

My eyes were drawn to a brilliant piece that literally took my breath away.

“What is that?  It’s…stunning.”

“You have impeccable taste,” she replied.  “This is a vintage gown from the 1930s designed by Gilbert Adrian.  He was a costume designer for major motion pictures back in the heyday of old Hollywood.  They sure don’t make them like this anymore.”

I reached out a finger and traced a line along the soft fabric.  Magnificent.  With a little bit of help, the woman zipped me into the dress and then stood back to examine the fit.

“I think it was made for you,” she mused, smiling brightly.

Taking in my reflection, I had to agree with her.

The stunner was light purple, made of exquisite fabric that felt like pure silk, and had elegant gold and deep wine colored sequins for a shimmering effect.  This was no skanky mini-dress, but rather a classy evening gown.  It didn’t simply move when I walked, but flowed elegantly.  With a halter style top, my chest was completely covered yet arms and shoulders were fully exposed. 

Did I forget to mention the back?  Yes, it came with a matching silk neckpiece that hung all the way to the floor.  The whole ensemble was simply phenomenal.

“I’ll take it.  Wrap it up and put it on my credit card.”

Now I really hope my fight bets pay off.  Old Hollywood glamour doesn’t come cheap.  Get ready to have your mind blown, Samuel.  Eat your heart out, because the bitch is back!

Instead of happily marching away with my dress, the sales woman simply stared at it wistfully.

“Is there a problem?”

“No.  Yes.  No.  Maybe.  No.”

“What’s your name?” I asked, giving the woman more of my attention.  Clearly something was on her mind.

“Vera.  I’m sorry, ma’am.  Temporary insanity.  Of course I’ll complete your purchase and you can be on your way.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me why you’re staring at the dress like it might be haunted and you expect a ghost to pop out any second.”

She laughed and I saw some of the tension ease away from her rigid posture.

“This dress is exquisite and I…I’ve been keeping it here for a long time to save for just the right customer.  I guess…I wanted to make sure it went to a good home.  Someone who would appreciate it.  To think that it might be thrown in the back of someone’s closet to gather dust…it makes me sad.”

I blinked a few times and stared at her.  Never have I met someone with such a passion for clothes.

“I know it sounds crazy,” she continued while shaking her head.  “But I get a good vibe from you.  For some reason I think you were meant to have the dress.”

“I like you, Vera.  I can appreciate a girl that’s not afraid to speak her mind.  If it makes you feel any better, I’m going to a major event tomorrow night and I need to look invincible.  All eyes will be on me, including those of the one man that I desperately desire.”

“Ooh.  So romantic.  Is it a big gala charity event?  Is he a rich billionaire businessman that doesn’t even know you exist?  No!  Don’t tell me!  You’re his personal assistant and you’ve secretly harbored a crush on him for months!”

“Do I look like someone’s secretary?  Fuck no, Vera.  You read too many trashy novels.  My event is an underground MMA fight and the object of my affection is one stubborn asshole that refuses to give in to his feelings for me.”

She raised an eyebrow and promptly placed a hand on her hips.

“Like that couldn’t be the plot of a romantic book?  Let me guess…your unrequited love just so happens to be the fighter in the main event?”

“No.  Not even close.”

“Damn it.  I’m usually good at figuring these things out.  I must be off my game tonight,” she mumbled in disappointment.  “Wait a minute!  You’re not taking this dress to some dirty cage match in a dilapidated warehouse are you?”

Her eyes widened in horror and she clutched her chest.

“No!  Quit freaking out, will you?  This is a pretty posh event.  I’m talking VIP section, velvet ropes, the whole nine yards.”

“Okay.  Is it open to the public?  I’ve always been a fan of boxing.  Something about the brutish way one man uses raw force to disable his opponent…it really revs up my engine.”

“That was too much information, Vera,” I confessed with a smile to let her know I was only kidding.  This weirdo was kind of growing on me.

“Sorry.  I usually try to restrain myself around customers, but something about you just puts me at ease.”

“I like you too.  You’re unique.”

“Did we just become best friends?” she asked.  “Let’s go ask for permission to make bunk beds so we can have room for more activities.”

The woman paused, eagerly waiting for me to recognize the line she just quoted from one of my all-time favorite movies.

“Please tell me you can sing, because I can’t play the Will Farrell part.”

“Yes!” she shouted, flinging her hands in the air.  “You’ve proven yourself worthy of the Adrian gown!  I don’t suppose you’d be interested in grabbing a cup of coffee sometime?  We can talk fashion, men, and stupid movies.”

“I’ll do you one even better, Vera.  How about you come to the fight tomorrow as my special guest?”

“Hot damn!  You just made my day, girl!”

As we walked to the register to ring up my purchase, the appreciative woman thanked me about ten times. 

I asked for her address and informed her that a car would be arriving promptly at seven-thirty.

“Oh, you don’t have to pick me up,” she insisted.  “I don’t want to be a bother.  Just tell me where to go and we can meet.”

“Your apartment is on the way to the fight.  Besides, I need to send a driver to make sure you arrive safely.  There are some interesting people attending the event.”

“Driver?  Are you talking like an Uber or someone you employ?  Who are you?”

“You’ll find out…”