CHAPTER 5
Benito
I walked out of the diner with a grin on my face, despite the fact that Bethany had just been screaming her lungs out at me. Alright, maybe her reaction had been a little more extreme than I had hoped it would be. Sure, I guess things could have gone a little better. In terms of everything I had been fantasizing about over the last couple of months, I guess a part of me had hoped that she would be totally smitten with me, and would fall into my arms, and see me as her savior, as someone who could rescue her from all the damage Sal had done.
But I guess that was just fantasy, and I had always been a realist at heart. No, it had been stupid to think that she would be anything but upset and enraged – and dumbfounded with disbelief, of course – when confronted with the truth about what Sal had arranged with my family.
And I could understand that. Had someone come up to me with the same sort of message, that my father (well, step-father, in her case) had sold me to them as collateral for money loaned to finance gambling debts, I'd be pretty damn pissed as well. Hell, I'd probably put a few bullets through their heads.
So, had it gone how I had hoped it would – or rather, how I had fantasized it would? No, not at all. Had that surprised me? No, not really. Because while I had been fantasizing about Bethany for a long time now, and waiting for this day to come with eager anticipation, I had also known that it would be a difficult day. And the realist part of me, as much as I hadn't wanted to admit it, had known that things would go down exactly like this. I guess I just hadn't really wanted to accept that she would be so hostile about the whole thing, even though I had, deep down, realized that it was gonna end up like this.
The reason I was smiling, though, was that fate seemed to have intervened – and it had most definitely intervened on my behalf. I hadn't known that Sal had been paying the CM guys protection money. Now, on one level I was pretty mad that I didn't know – my informant who had been watching this place should have picked it up. Still, my annoyance aside, this whole thing with the protection racket with the CM guys worked out in my favor, and it did so in two ways. Firstly, it narrowed down the options Bethany had. Now that she had pressure coming from them, she couldn't just as easily brush me off if they hadn't been on her case, demanding money from her.
Secondly, it put me in the position of being able to help her. She was obviously scared of getting the cops involved in this thing, and for me, that was a good thing. I had the means to make her problem with the CM guys disappear – all she had to do was reach out to me, and those thugs would never even come within two miles of her diner again, let alone even look at her again. I could, and would make sure of that – but only if she agreed to our arrangement.
Still, she was backed into a corner now. I knew how bad the diner's finances had gotten, with Sal's gambling and other vices reaching a peak in the last few months of his life, and I knew just how badly Bethany was doing financially. She couldn't afford to pay the CM guys, at least not by tomorrow or the next day. I figured they would have given her a pretty tight deadline. She was backed into a corner, and the only helping hand extended her way, the only hand that could pull her out was mine.
And that was why I was smiling, despite the fact that the echoes of her enraged screams were still echoing in my ears.
I got to my Mercedes and climbed in, and as I did my phone started to ring. I took it out and saw that it was my older brother.
“Primo,” I said as I answered the call, “how are you doing?”
“Oh, I'm just fine, Ben, I'm just fine. The real question is how are you doing? I assume you've told Bethany about our family's deal with Sal by now. How did all of that go?”
I chuckled before I answered.
“It uh, I guess it didn't really go as smoothly as I had hoped it would.”
On the other end of the line Primo roared with laughter.
“What did I tell you? What did I tell you Ben, huh? I told you, I told you that she wouldn't just jump into your arms and give you a damn kiss and a hug!”
“Yeah yeah yeah Primo, I know, I know, you don't need to rub it in.”
“So, what did she say then?”
“She uh, she looked at the contract and ripped it up. And she told me to get my ass outta there and never come back.”
“Yeah, that's pretty much how I envisioned it going. She's a real feisty one, that. Real feisty. But I guess that's all the more reason for you to like her, huh Ben?”
I grinned and nodded, fully aware that he wasn't there and couldn't see me.
“Damn right big bro. She's got fire in her blood, and you know how girls like that have always turned me on.”
“Well you've always been the fiery one in our family, Ben. I'm not surprised that you're so attracted to her.”
“Yeah, I'm not either. So, is there any other reason you're calling, Primo, or did you just want to find out how the thing with Bethany went?”
“Well yeah, I wanted to find out about that, but I also wanted to tell you that there's gonna be a meeting with some of the boys at Controversy later. Around lunch time. Be there.”
“Sure thing. Oh, and there's one more thing I gotta tell you about this Bethany situation.”
“Yeah Ben, what's that?”
“Some Coup Militant thugs were just at the diner before me. They smashed the place up pretty good and roughed Bethany up a bit too.”
As I said that, a jolt of hot anger rippled through my veins. Again, the thought of those bastards laying their hands on Bethany made me angry, and I wanted to take a baseball bat to their heads. I probably would, at some stage – but not just yet.
“Interesting. Did you find out what it was about?”
“I'm ninety percent sure that they were trying to squeeze her for protection money. They've done it to plenty other businesses in this area. My guess is that Sal was paying 'em before, and now that he's been dead a month, they haven't had their pay – so they came to Bethany to demand some money, and busted the place up to show her that they weren't messing around.”
“Sounds just like their usual way of doing things,” commented Primo. “It's probably exactly like that. They're probably doing exactly that.”
“It works out well for us though,” I said. “Now that Bethany has pressure on her coming from them, she'll be more inclined to come to me.”
“Yeah, and that's why it works out well for you, Ben, not for us. You made the deal because you wanted her. It's not like you're gonna share her with anyone. But anyway, that's your affair to deal with; I have plenty of my own on my plate. We'll talk more at Controversy later. See you there, little brother.”
“Yeah Primo, I'll see you there.”
I hung up the call and started up the car, still grinning. Things hadn't worked out quite how I had wanted them to – but they had actually worked out far better than they could have, had certain variables not come into play. Now all I had to do was wait, and then Bethany would come to me. Oh yes, she would come to me, she would – I just knew it.
LATER THAT DAY
I pulled into the Controversy parking lot, which only had a few cars parked in it at this time of day. The club had just opened, but like most strip clubs, things didn't really get going until well after dark, and things only really started getting busy late at night.
Still, there were some guys who came in during the afternoon; guys who worked nights or weird shifts that meant that they were only getting off work at this time – and then they came here, to stuff their hard-earned cash into strippers' G-strings and drink away their worries and sorrows with some well-made drinks at the bar.
I didn't like strip clubs much myself – I didn't see the point, personally. Looking without being allowed to touch? That was like having a glass of fine whiskey dangled in front of your face, so close that you could smell its rich aroma and almost be able to taste it – but then not being allowed to drink it.
Still, I didn't own this place for the entertainment value, I owned it for the profit it brought in. There were plenty of saps all too eager to part with their hard-earned dough for a glance at some pretty young thing's tits and ass, and who were even more willing to drop their bread when said pretty young thing was grinding those tits and that ass all over them in a lap dance. My dancers gave the best lap dances in town, but they sure as hell didn't come cheap. And that worked out well for both the dancers, who earned a pretty good living here, and for myself and my business associates, who turned a good profit.
I got out of my car and walked around to the back entrance, which lead to the backstage areas, change rooms and the office.
I unlocked the door and walked in and was greeted by the janitor, an old Mexican guy called Sanchez.
“Afternoon, boss,” he said, grinning at me with his gap-toothed mouth. “The other guys, they’re waiting for you upstairs.”
“Thanks Sanchez,” I said with a smile. I always treated my employees with a friendly manner. They knew enough about who I was that they understood that I was a man not to be messed with, so I didn't need to exert my authority by behaving like a jerk. And besides, employees who were treated well were much more likely to be loyal and work hard. “And how are you, how's your grandson doing? His Little League team been winning their games recently?”
He nodded, still beaming a smile at me.
“Oh yeah Mr. Sciotti, Carlos is doing real well. That boy can pitch a baseball, I'm telling you, man! He's gonna be a pro one day, I just know it. Then we'll be watching him on TV, and I'll be the proudest granddad in the world!”
I smiled, took out a fifty-dollar bill and slipped it into Sanchez's front pocket.
“There you go Sanchez, buy the kid something nice – but only if he keeps working hard at his pitching. We don't want him to get lazy or nothin' now.”
“Oh, gracias, gracias, thank you Mr. Sciotti!”
Just then, before I could head up the stairs, we heard a commotion coming from the area of the club where the private rooms were.
“Oh no, sounds like a customer is behaving badly,” muttered Sanchez. “I'll go get Tino.”
“No, don't worry about that,” I said to him. “I'll handle this myself.”
I walked through the passage that lead to the private rooms area, and when I walked into the area, I could hear shouting coming from one of the rooms. I burst in, and saw a guy grappling with one of my girls, who was topless and dressed only in a flimsy G-string.
“What the hell is going on in here?!” I roared.
I charged over and ripped the guy off her and slammed him against the wall. He was a skinny guy who looked to be in his thirties, with lots of tattoos, and looked like he had been drinking a lot; his eyes were glassy and bloodshot.
The dancer, a twenty-one-year-old redhead named Bella, who had a lithe body and very large, round breasts, looked both enraged and frightened.
“That guy tried to pull my G-string off!” she yelled. “He tried to slip his fingers into my . . . into my . . . he tried to put his fingers inside me!”
“I was j- just, trying t- to . . .” the guy stammered, slurring his words.
“These rooms are for viewing private dances, you fuck,” I snarled, my hand clamped over the guy's throat, squeezing it progressively harder. “And viewing is something you do with your eyes, and your eyes only, asshole, not with your hands! What part of our 'no touching' rule is so hard to understand, huh?”
“I just, I, I, I, I was just-”
I punched him hard in the stomach and he doubled over with pain.
“Hit him again Ben, hit him again!” shrieked Bella. “Hit that jerk hard, so that he knows never to do that to another woman!”
“Do you understand the word 'no', jerk-off?” I growled. “Do you? Do you understand what a woman means when she says 'no'?”
I punched him again in the stomach, and this time he crumpled up and dropped to the floor, groaning with pain.
“Go get dressed, Bella,” I said to her. “I'll make sure you get paid triple for this dance, since you've had to put up with this jerk.”
“Thanks Ben,” she said, staring with naked contempt and loathing at the man on the ground, and then she quickly put her bikini top on and put a short satin robe on over that. Then she walked over to the groaning guy on the floor and planted a solid kick in his ribs with the point of her high heels.
“I'll do a lot worse to you if I ever see you again, you scumbag!” she spat. “My boyfriend is an MMA fighter, and he'll kick your ass from here to the moon and back, so you better pray you never cross our paths!”
“Alright Bella, go have yourself a drink and calm down,” I said. “And don't worry, this guy won't be coming back here ever again.”
Bella stormed out, and I grabbed the guy by his grimy T-shirt and hauled him up off the ground. Then I got my phone out, and made sure he was looking at me.
“Say 'cheese', asshole,” I said as I took a picture of his face. “Your ugly mugshot is about to be added to the list of people banned from this club.”
I then grabbed him and hauled him roughly out of the room, and dragged him all the way to the back door, where I punched him once more in the stomach, and then, when be bent over in pain, I booted his ass, sending him stumbling out of the door, where he crashed into a stack of garbage cans and fell over.
“You heard what I said, jerk-off!” I snarled. “You're banned from this place from now on, and if you ever come back, I'll do a hell of a lot worse to you than what I just did. Now get the hell out of here!”
After that I slammed the door and dusted off my suit jacket. Yeah, that was one of the things I hadn't mentioned about owning a strip club – you had to deal with all sorts of scummy customers. Usually my bouncers took care of them, and incidents were prevented before they could even happen, but sometimes I had to get my hands dirty too. But if it meant getting a punk like this out of my club, and preventing him from harassing or assaulting my dancers, I was glad to do it.
I sent the pic I'd just taken of the guy to the guy working the door, and asked him to print it out and put it up in the door office with the (already long) list of guys who were banned from the club.
After that I headed upstairs. In the office up there, Fat Eddie, Giovanni and Tony were sitting around a table, smoking cigars and playing cards.
“Afternoon boys,” I said as I walked in.
They all said their greetings, and then I sat down at the table.
“Alright, hand me one of those Cubans,” I said to fat Eddie, who passed me one of the cigars.
I lit it up and drew in a big puff, which I held in my mouth for quite a while before exhaling, savoring the rich flavor.
“Mm, these are good Cubans,” I remarked. “Make sure you get more of these next time, Eddie. Much better than the last batch we had.”
“Sure thing, Ben,” he said. “And yeah, these are premium, top quality.”
“Alright, so Giovanni, before we start, what's the latest on that Rising Sun sushi place? You taken any further action there? Or did the old guy chasing you around with a samurai sword scare you off permanently?”
Everyone chuckled at this, except for Giovanni, who sat in his chair and scowled.
“It was a big freakin' sword, alright? Sheesh, I bet you guys would have run too. Who knows, maybe this guy fought in World War Two or something, maybe mine wouldn't have been the first head the guy cut off!”
“The Japs didn't use swords in World War Two,” said Fat Eddie. “Come on, that was in, like, medieval times or some shit.”
“Actually, they did,” I said, backing Giovanni up. “Many officers carried swords into battle as backup weapons, even as late as World War Two. And they were famous – well, notorious might be a better word to use – for beheading prisoners of war with those swords. But old what was it, Mr. Kawasaki? I doubt he's old enough to be a World War Two veteran. So, it was probably just a family heirloom, or hell, who knows, just because he's Japanese don't mean he has a genuine samurai sword, let's not jump to conclusions, boys. Maybe it was one of those fifty dollar made in China pieces of crap that you can buy on eBay, and they were just gonna hang it on the wall for decoration. If he tried to cut your head off with one of those the blade would snap in half before the blade got anywhere near even breaking your skin!”
Everyone chuckled.
“Alright, alright, just forget about it,” said Giovanni, his pride still wounded. “And no, we haven't sorted out the situation there at the sushi place yet.”
“Well you'd better get on it, I said sternly. “They need to know that they can't get away with messing the Sciotti family around. We can be reasonable, to a point – but if you push us past that point, we can become very unreasonable, very quickly – and they need to know that.”
“I'll get on it Ben, don't worry.”
I had another puff of my cigar and then looked around the room.
“Where's Tino?” I asked. “He's supposed to be here now.”
“He was here five minutes ago,” said Fat Eddie. “Went downstairs to talk to one of the door guys, said the guy had been asking for workout tips or something like that.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Ah well then that damn meathead is gonna be down there for the next hour! When you get him started on all that pumping iron crap he just goes on and on and won't stop unless you shove a damn sock in his freakin' mouth. Damn it, will one of you go down there and tell him to get his ass up here right now?”
“I'm on it,” said Giovanni, and he extinguished his cigar and stood up.
Before he could walk out of the room, however, the door opened, and there stood Tino in all his musclebound glory. He was so jacked that it looked as if his muscles would rip through the seams of his suit if he flexed them in the wrong way. His face looked unusually orange, though, and I stared at him for a while.
“Tino, have you put that ridiculous spray-on tan crap on your face?” I asked.
The other guys chuckled.
“I, uh, no, no, I just got some sun yesterday.”
“It was gray and rainy the entire day yesterday,” I remarked dryly.
“Oh, uh, then the day before,” he said sheepishly.
“Man, we can all see that you've got that crap on your face. Come on Tino, this ain't no stage for a bodybuilding contest here, alright? Don't wear that stuff again. It's cheesy, and it makes the rest of us look like clowns by association, and that's not something we want in this organization, you understand?”
He nodded sheepishly.
“Now what were you doing downstairs?” I asked.
“Well actually, that's why I came up here,” he said. “Well, yeah, and because we have a meeting, I know – but there's someone down there at the bar who's waiting for you.”
“There's someone waiting for me at the bar? Who? I don't remember making any appointments with anyone.”
“A real pretty broad. Looks like she's in her twenties, I guess. Blonde, tall, very curvy, gorgeous green eyes, she's a real stunner alright, a real stunner.”
I smiled as I realized who it was that was waiting for me.
“Did she say what it was about?”
Tino nodded.
“Yeah, something to do with a diner, I forgot the name.”
So, Bethany had come to me. I don't know how she had found out about the fact that I owned this strip club, as I had only told her about the fitness club. I guess she had some sleuthing skills of her own. But here she was, ready to talk . . . playing right into my hands. I knew she would come around eventually. And now I just had to play my cards right – which, considering the circumstances she found herself in may not be too difficult – and she would be mine.
“I'll go talk to her,” I said. “Go downstairs and clear out one of the private rooms so she and I can talk without distractions.”
“Sure thing boss, I'll do that.”
He walked out and as he did, I smiled. I couldn't wait to talk to her . . .