CHAPTER 7
Benito
When I saw Bethany standing at the bar, I couldn't help but grin. It was a smile of both triumph and pleasure. Her initial resistance had broken down, and now she had come to me. Also, she looked mighty fine in those tight, form-fitting jeans she was wearing. It was hard not to stare, and as I walked down the stairs, I couldn't help imagining what it would be like to peel those jeans off her long, curvy legs. Mm, yeah . . . I would be doing that soon enough, and I seriously couldn't wait.
But there were things that had to be done first, arrangements that had to be made. She would be mine, I knew it; it was a foregone conclusion, and I had no doubt in my mind that it would happen, but I realized that she wouldn't just fall into my lap.
Still, I had played the waiting game for this long, and I could keep playing it for a little while longer if she didn't initially want to cooperate. She would come to her senses eventually, even if she was resisting now. I just had to be patient and persistent.
I walked across the floor of the strip club, my eyes locked on her. There were nude girls all around me with killer bodies, shaking their tits and asses and spreading their legs wide open, but I didn't even glance at a single one of them for a split second; my eyes were on Bethany, and on Bethany only. None of these girls could hold a candle to her, not in my eyes.
“Hello Bethany,” I said with a warm smile. “I see you've done a bit of digging on me. I thought you would come to my fitness club.”
“I did,” she said, looking uncomfortable. I guessed that a girl like her had most likely never been inside a place like this. Her discomfort was understandable. “But you weren't there, and the guy I spoke to didn't have any idea where you were.”
“Who'd you talk to there?”
“Uh, I think his name was Jacob.”
I nodded and smiled.
“Ah yeah Jacob. Good-looking dude, huh?”
I nodded.
“He was quite handsome, I guess.”
“Did you know that just two years ago he was living on the street, addicted to meth, and eating out of garbage cans?”
She looked surprised to hear that.
“He certainly doesn't look like it.”
“Not now he don't, after two years of clean living and working out. I gave him a second chance at life, Bethany. He was caught shoplifting from a place that I, that my family, uh, that we 'protect'. The store owner wanted me to deal with him in a way that would have him never coming back to that store again, and never shoplifting from anywhere else again. I'm sure you probably understand what those people who owned that store wanted a man like me to do to this guy.”
She nodded.
“I think I have an idea,” she murmured, looking a little scared.
“Well you see, Bethany, contrary to what many people may believe about the Sciotti family, we're fair. We give people chances. We don't just act as judge, jury and executioner without being reasonable first. So, I took Jacob out to an alley, had a good talk to him about life, and gave him a choice. He had one shot: he could get off the meth and turn his life around with a job that I would provide for him, or I could break his legs and leave him in that alley – and then if he ever chose to shoplift again, would do a lot worse than break his legs. He chose wisely, and look at him now: clean, healthy, steady girlfriend, his own apartment and car . . . You see Bethany, when people choose to work with the Sciotti family rather than against us, things usually work out well. Yeah, they usually work out very, very well for those who are wise enough to work with us.”
Before she could reply, Tino walked up to us.
“I've cleared out one of the private rooms,” he said.
“Bethany, come, the bar is too noisy for us to have a decent conversation,” I said to her. “Please follow me.”
She nodded, and I turned around and walked through the club to the area with the private rooms. Tino opened the door of the first room we got to, and I stepped aside to allow Bethany to enter the room first.
“Wait outside,” I said to Tino as I then walked in, and he nodded and closed the door behind me.
I could see immediately that Bethany was still uncomfortable, even though we were away from the strippers.
“Have a seat,” I said to her, pointing to a black leather sofa.
“Um, I uh, I'd rather stand,” she murmured, looking at the leather sofa as if it were a pile of dirty tissues.
Ah, I understood. She probably thought that this room was used for prostitution or sex or guys jerking off or getting hand jobs or something. That was understandable for someone who knew very little about how these places worked.
“I assume you think that the sofas are perhaps, dirty? Contaminated? I understand. You probably imagine that all sorts of, how should I put it, unsavory things happen in these rooms. But no, what you imagine happens in here isn't actually what happens here. In this club, we don't have prostitutes. We only have dancers, and the guys who come in here aren't allowed to put their hands on 'em, not unless the girl consents. And even then, there's no sex. And the guy has to remain fully clothed at all time. If he takes his little friend out of his pants, he gets thrown out and banned for life. We have very strict rules here Bethany, and we enforce them with no exceptions. And come on, you can see this place is clean. My cleaning staff take pride in their work, and I'd be willing to bet that you could eat off that sofa. Seriously, that's how good my cleaning staff are.”
She nodded, and reluctantly took a seat on the sofa.
“So, have you come here to agree to the terms set out in the contract?” I asked, cutting straight to the chase.
Now her initial discomfort was replaced by a quick-burning anger, and I could see it flaring up in her eyes. This woman had fiery passion – and that was one of the many things about her that really turned me on. I knew that she was not simply going to give in without a fight; I had pretty much expected this.
“No,” she said flatly. “I'm not simply going to be 'yours'. I told you before, this is the twenty-first century, and you just can't trade human beings like property! You can't.”
“Sal did,” I countered. “You saw it, right there on the contract-”
“Sal did not own me!” she yelled. “He had no right to make that deal, no right at all! You can't do things like that, you can't! And I will not consent to being traded and used as a bargaining piece! No!”
“It's a bit late for that kind of talk, sugar,” I said with a smile. “The deal was made and signed a long time ago.”
“Yeah, without me knowing a damn thing about it! How can anyone in their right mind possibly think that what you and Sal did is okay? How you bought and traded me like a piece of meat, without me even knowing about it?”
“A deal is a deal,” I said. I wasn't going to back down from this. She was my prize, and I would not be denied her. Besides, I knew that all I had to do was wait – she would come to her senses eventually. And most likely sooner than later; the CM guys were on her back now, and they wouldn't be going away any time soon.
She shook her head.
“You're a real stubborn one, aren't you?” she said, her voice filled with venom. “You're just not gonna give up on this, are you?”
I smiled.
“A deal is a deal,” I repeated. “Sal made that deal with his word and his signature as his honor. We're bound to honor it – you and I. The terms stated in the contract are very, very clear. You're to come and live with me in my penthouse. You'll still own the diner, but I'll own you. You'll be my woman, you'll be mine in mind, body and soul. That was what was stated in the agreement, and it must be honored.”
She looked as if she wanted to scream, but she managed to keep her cool. That was impressive; she seemed to be able to exert a good amount of control over her feelings, as intense as they may be.
“Look, would you at least have the decency to just listen to what I have to say?”
I nodded.
“I'm a fair man, as I've said before. I'll listen to what you have to say, go ahead.”
“Okay. Thank you. Firstly, would you be willing to buy the diner ad the apartment above it from me at an incredibly low price? I'm talking practically giving it to you for free. Almost free, seriously. I don't want to sell it, I really don't, but if I hand it over to you for maybe just a few thousand dollars, just so that I can have a head start to do something with my life and not have to sleep on the street, will that be enough to annul this agreement you had with Sal and the debt he owes you?”
I shook my head.
“I don't want the diner, Bethany.”
She nodded.
“I suspected that you would refuse the offer, but you do understand that I had to try.”
“I understand. If I were in your shoes, I guess I would have tried the same thing. Now, do you have any other offers to propose? Or do you want to just make this easy for everyone concerned and fulfil the terms of the agreement I made with Sal?”
“No,” she said firmly and fiercely. “No, I do not want to do that. Alright, since you rejected my first offer, I do have another.”
“Go ahead,” I said.
“I'll still own the diner. That much you and I can at least agree on, right?”
I nodded.
“But I don't want to come and live with you. I want to stay in my own place, above the diner, where I've always lived. I know that Sal owed you a lot of money and I'll pay it back, month by month, all of it. You can set your own interest rate and add that to my monthly repayments. Obviously, I can't pay a huge monthly total, but you have my word that eventually, you'll get back everything that Sal owed you, with whatever interest you decide to add on top of that. Now, regarding you and me, well . . . we can be friends. I can 'date' you in the sense that I'll accompany you to public events, things like that. But I'm not sleeping with you. I'm not even gonna kiss you. I'm sorry, but you can't force me to do stuff like that. I told you, I'm a free human being, I'm not a slave I'm not property to be traded, to be bought and sold. These are the terms I propose. So, if that's alright with you, could you please get these CM guys off my back, and we'll take it from there?”
I chuckled.
“You're a tough negotiator, huh?”
“I'm only doing what's fair and what's right. And it's not right to trade a human being like a piece of property. I'll give you the money that Sal owes you, eventually, and I'll be your arm candy, if that's what you want – but no more.”
I shook my head slowly.
“I don't negotiate on terms that have already been agreed upon, Bethany. Sorry, but that's just how it goes. A deal . . . is a deal. And nothing in that contract is going to be renegotiated. It was already decided and agreed upon a long time ago.”
She stared at me with fierce anger burning brightly in her eyes for a few moments.
“Alright, alright fine! Fine dammit!” she spat.
“So, you're agreeing to the terms of the contract?”
“No! I'll never agree to that that bullshit! I'll handle the CM guys by myself! You can take your damn 'a deal is a deal' stubbornness and shove it!”
She stood up, pushed her way past me and stormed out.
“Wait, Bethany!” I called out after her, but she did not look back – she simply made a beeline for the exit and strode right out of the club.
“Feisty broad, huh?” remarked Tino.
I chuckled.
“Very. And that's one of the many things I just love about her.”
“If you say so, boss,” he grunted. “That ain't my kinda chick though. Any girl who talks to me like that can take a hike. They need to know who wears the pants, know what I'm sayin'?”
“Well I like her spirit – a lot. Tino, I want you to follow her for the next few hours and keep an eye on her, and report back to me about what she's getting up to. And if she gets into any trouble with the CM guys, make sure she's safe.”
He nodded.
“Sure thing. I'll get on that right now.”
He walked off briskly, and I headed back up to the office to resume the meeting. Before I did though, I waited outside the door. I was thinking about doing something about this CM situation myself. I took out my phone and called up my cousin Bobby.
“Ben, how ya doing?” he said as he answered.
“Good Bobby, all good. Listen, I need your help with a little situation that's going on. You got any soldiers with you?”
“Louie's here,” replied Bobby.
“Good, Louie will do. Call up Tyrese Wilson of the Coup Militants, and tell him I wanna have a word with him.”
“The Coup Militants? Why are we gonna be going to talk to those fools?”
“I'll explain everything later. Just see if you can arrange a meeting with them later today. Message me when everything is arranged. The sooner the better.”
“Sure thing, boss,” he said.
I hung up the call and headed into the meeting.
THREE HOURS LATER
I stared at the 1967 Mustang, admiring how the paint gleamed in the light. Despite it being fifty years old, it looked as if it had just rolled off the dealership floor.
“I've been working on that for three years now,” said Callum, the mechanic who owned this garage, who had allowed us and the CM guys to meet here, as we both wanted a neutral, non-aligned venue in which to talk. “Replaced or refurbished almost every single moving part in her. She's a real beauty, ain't she?”
“Gorgeous.”
I heard the flat rumble of a tuned-up Honda roaring up the street outside.
“Looks like the CM boys are here, I said to Callum. “You'd better go wait in your office until we're done here. Thanks again for letting us use the shop. I appreciate that.”
“No sweat Ben. You've done me plenty favors over the years; it's the least I could do.”
I smiled and nodded, and he shuffled off to the office at the back and closed the door. I, meanwhile, stood up and stared out of the front of the shop as the CM guys pulled up in their loud, modified cars. To my right stood Bobby and to my left Louie. We were all dressed smartly in suits, and Louie and Bobby each had a hand tucked into their jackets, their fingers curled around the grips of their firearms inside their jackets, just in case there was any trouble.
I watched with a cool, neutral expression on my face as the CM gangsters pulled up, revving their cars loudly. They eventually killed the motors and got out, walking with an arrogant swagger into the garage and forming up a line across from me and my boys, facing up like two little armies about to do battle.
They couldn't have been more different than us, though. While we stood in somber, cool silence, clad in our expensive, neat black business suits, they wore baggy hip hop street gear and were decked out in garish gold jewelry, and walked with a swagger, posturing and snarling like angry mutts across from us.
Tyrese took up a position directly across from me. He wasted no time in getting to the point.
“Why'd you call us out here, Sciotti?” he demanded. “We ain't done nothin' to y'all, and y'all ain't done nothin' to us. The lines markin’ our turf is clear, and both you and I know them well. I ain't crossed into yo' turf, and you ain't come into ours, at least as far as I know. So, you gon' tell me what this about or what?”
“I want to talk to you about the Canfield Grille.”
“What about that shithole? That's on our turf.”
I shook my head.
“No, it isn't.”
“Yeah it is!” he countered angrily.
“It's technically in no-man's land, actually,” I said, remaining calm and cool. That little street it's on serves as the divider between my territory and yours. And that was agreed on long ago.”
He knew this as well as I did. Everything I was saying was true, and he couldn't counter it, so he simply scowled.
“Well what the hell do you care about that shitty little diner anyway?” he asked.
I sighed and smiled before I started speaking. I was going to make this very clear for him and his friends.
“I hear that you're asking the owner for protection money. You and I both know that you don't have any right to do that. So, I'm gonna say this now – leave the Canfield Grille alone, Tyrese. Don't go back there, and don't ask Bethany Verde for any more protection money. You may have been able to get away with it with Sal, when he was alive, but that's only because I didn't know it was going on. And now that I do know – you're going to stop, and you're going to stay away from the Canfield Grille. Got it?”
“Motherfucker!” snarled Tyrese. “You don't get to-”
I nodded subtly to Bobby and Louie, and both of them whipped out their pistols and pointed them at Tyrese's companions.
“Actually, Tyrese, I do. I do get to tell you what to do. Do you really want to go to war with me over this? You and I both know who will win the war if it happens. We've got more guns than you. We've got better guns than you. We've got more soldiers than you. And we can easily get other families involved too, families who would be only too happy to help wipe your shit-stain of a little gang off the map. That's right, Tyrese, we'll erase you – all of you – from existence if it comes to war.
Now, I'm quite happy to let you do your thing in your own turf. Hell, do whatever you wanna do there, I don't care. But the Canfield Grille, it's in no-man's land, so it's not yours. You don't have any legitimate claim over it, none at all. So, what you're gonna do right now is back off and stay the hell away from the Canfield Grille and from Bethany Verde. You stay away from them, or there will be consequences, very, very serious consequences for the Coup Militants. Do you understand?”
He stared at me with naked aggression gleaming in his eyes. I could see that he didn't really know what to do. He was fuming with rage, but everything I had said was true – the Canfield Grille was in no-man's land, and he didn't have any right to demand protection money from them.
“A'ight, a'ight,” he eventually muttered. “I ain't gon' ask dat bitch fo' money. Fine.”
I nodded, pleased that this had gone so smoothly. I had been anticipating a lot more resistance on his part.
“But dat bitch is mine,” he snarled. “I done had my eye on her fo' a long time, an' I'm gon' make that happen. And that don't have shit to do with whose territory she's in.”
It looked like things weren't going as smoothly as I had hoped they would. I knew my triumph was a bit premature. Still, I wasn't going to stand for this.
“I don't think she wants to be yours, Tyrese. In fact, I'm pretty damn sure of it. So, stay the hell away from her, or else.”
“Or else what Sciotti? Like I said, this don't have shit to do with territory.”
“I'm warning you, Tyrese, this is a matter that's very . . . personal to me. If you go anywhere near Bethany Verde, there will be consequences.”
“Oh really, cracker? Good luck tryin' ta get other families on board for a war over a bitch. Territory is one thing, motherfucker, but I ain't dumb. I know they ain't gon' wanna go to war over some dumb woman. Now is that all you gots ta say, Sciotti? Coz I'm done talkin'.”
“You have been warned, Tyrese. Stay away from her or I will follow through, I promise you that.”
“Whatever,” he muttered.
“Bobby, Louie, let's get out of here,” I said.
They lowered their guns and we walked out toward the back entrance, where our cars were parked.
Before I walked out the door, I turned and shot a menacing glance at Tyrese.
“Remember what I said, Tyrese,” I repeated. “Stay the hell away from Bethany Verde.”
He said nothing. He simply glared aggressively at me.
I walked out and got into my Mercedes. I drove off, feeling that at least I had laid down the law, and put Tyrese in his place. Still, he had seemed very defiant, and I didn't know if he would actually stay away from Bethany, even with my threat looming.
I’d been driving about five minutes when my phone rang, and I looked at it and saw that it was Callum.
I answered the call.
“Callum, what's going on?”
“There's something you gotta know, Ben. After you guys left, I was locking up the front of the shop when I heard those Militant guys talking outside in the street. Sounded like the one, the main guy, what was his name?
“Tyrese Wilson.”
“Yeah, him. He was on the phone to someone – and he told them to burn it down.”
“Burn what down?” I asked.
“That place you guys were talking about – the Canfield Grille.”