CHAPTER 9
Benito
“They want to burn it down?” I asked Callum. “Those thugs wanna burn the Canfield Grille down? Are you sure that's what you heard?”
“Absolutely pone hundred percent sure, Ben,” he replied. “There's no doubt in my mind – they were serious about it.”
“Thanks, Callum, I appreciate you informing me. I owe you one.”
“No sweat Ben, take it easy.”
“Goodbye.”
I hung up the call and immediately dialed Tino.
“What's up boss?” he asked as he answered.
“We've got a bit of a situation on our hands, Tino,” I replied.
“Oh yeah? Something to do with those damn CM punks you just talked to?”
“You must be psychic,” I joked dryly. “How'd you know?”
He chuckled.
“Just a hunch boss, just a hunch. So, what's the situation?”
“They're apparently planning to commit a little act of arson.”
“Oh yeah? And what exactly does this act of arson entail, boss?”
“That shitbag Tyrese was overheard giving the order to burn down the Canfield Grille.”
“I'm sure you don't want that to happen, right boss?”
“Again, you seem to have the skills of a mind reader, Tino,” I joked. “You're right – I don't want nothin' to happen to the Canfield Grille. So, I want you to head over there and find a quiet place on the street to sit and watch the diner. Now I want you to take some heavy artillery – go to the armory and grab yourself an assault rifle. One of the M-16s should do – you know, just in case things get hairy. Also, you'd better get some body armor on in case of a situation. Bulletproof vest at the very least. I don't want those punks to punch you full a' bullet holes, you understand?”
“I'll head straight over to our armory now, boss, and don't worry, I'll suit up good.”
“Good. And then where will you go?”
“Straight to the Canfield Grille to make sure them CM punks don't get within a hundred yards of it.”
“Perfect. Keep me updated. Give me a call if they show up and I'll come personally, with backup. Not that I think that you can't handle it on your own or nothin', but this prick Tyrese – I'd like to deal with him personally.”
“I'll do that, boss.”
I hung up the call and shook my head. It seemed like it was going to be difficult to keep the CM thugs off Bethany's back. And now Tyrese had made it clear that he was after her as well now, and not just on account of the protection money she supposedly owed from the diner. Well there was only one person who was going to have Bethany Verde, and that sure as hell wasn't going to be Tyrese Wilson. I had never liked him, but now I had even more reason to actively dislike him.
We had tolerated the existence of his gang up to this point, because our territories didn't intersect. Well, at least they hadn't intersected up until this point. But now with the whole Canfield Grille question, and Tyrese wanting Bethany on top of that, it was becoming clear that a situation of conflict would be arising soon – very soon – and I was sure that blood was going to be spilled before it was resolved.
Very well then. Bethany was mine, and nobody was going to take her away from me or do her any harm, not least of all that scumbag Tyrese. And for her, to keep her safe and to keep her mine, I would wipe him and every one of his dirt bag thugs off the face of the earth. And tonight, if they tried anything near the diner, I would unleash hell.
I needed to make a detour on my way home, so I turned off into a side street and parked my car. I had been planning this stop, and I patted my jacket's breast pocket as I got out of my Merc to make sure that the package was still there – it was.
I walked up the street to a small, old boxing gym and walked in through the doors. The place smelled strongly of sweat and rusty equipment – just like any good boxing gym should. It was a real old school place, not like my shiny new fitness club at all, but this place wasn't competition for me (I didn't offer any boxing classes at my gym) and this place held a special place in my heart, because I had learned to box here. And the coach who had taught me to box – Billy Stagliano, a former Golden Gloves champion in my father's era – he still taught boxing here. Tonight, though was a special night – the once a week night that he coached promising boxers from the inner city who came from broken homes and were too poor to afford to pay fees.
And that's what I had in my pocket – enough cash to cover the monthly gym fees of all seventeen of them.
I stood next to the main ring as two of the kids went at each other. One was eighteen, and the other sixteen. The eighteen-year-old had the advantage of size and musculature, but the sixteen-year-old, man was he fast. He had the moves for sure.
Billy was reffing, and he was so focused on the contest between the two boxers that he didn't even notice me standing ringside.
The big kid was taking some hefty swings at the younger one, but the younger one was bobbing and weaving like a champ, and every time the big guy threw a big haymaker and missed, the younger kid would duck or dodge and land a punch of his own. His blows weren't nearly strong enough to cause significant damage, but the damage they did cause was adding up, and the bigger kid was getting more and more fatigued.
Eventually the smaller kid darted in and landed an almost perfect hook that caught the bigger guy on the jaw, and it would have a been a stone cold knockout if they hadn't been wearing padded headgear.
Even with the headgear the bigger kid stumbled back, stunned, and Billy called the fight there. He shook the hands of both kids and congratulated them on a match well-fought, and only then did he notice me standing ringside.
“Ben! How ya doin', kid?”
He still called me “kid” after all these years.
“I'm good Billy, I'm good. Man, that younger kid, he's got the moves. I mean, the older guy, he ain't bad at all either, but that young one, what's his name again?”
“That's Darnell,” replied Billy.
“Yeah, Darnell, man, he's got the makings of a champ. I think that kid is gonna go far.”
“He needs to,” said Billy, shaking his head sadly. “Boxing is about the only way he'll get out of the slum. His father was a deadbeat bum who walked out when he was five years old and never came back, his mother is an alcoholic who's on welfare.”
“Well make sure he keeps comin' to training, Billy, and I'll keep paying whatever expenses are necessary to get him to the top – where a kid with talent like his belongs. And speaking of paying expenses . . .”
I pulled the envelope with the cash in it out of my pocket and handed it to Billy.
“This month's fees.”
“Thanks Ben,” he said with a smile as he took the envelope from me. “You're doing a great thing here. These kids – boxing is all they've got, the only way they can rise above their circumstances.”
“I know that – and I also know that they're working with the best coach in Detroit, who can give them the best shot at actually getting out of the inner city and making it big.”
“Thanks Ben. I – we – we appreciate your generosity. We really do.”
I smiled.
“Just payin' it forward, Billy, just payin' it forward. Oh, and what's the older kid's name again?”
“That's Jayrone.”
“Tell him to concentrate on keeping his left hand up. He leaves himself way too open on that side.”
Billy grinned.
“I'm glad you noticed that. I see that you still remember the lessons I taught you when you was a kid boxing in this here gym.”
“How could I forget, Billy? I was coached by the best of the best,” I replied with a wink. “And as for now, I have to make tracks. Got some important business to attend to.”
“You're a busy man, Ben, and I won't keep you. Have a good evening, and come visit whenever you feel like it!”
“I'll do that, Billy. Take care, and keep up the good work.”
I walked out of the gym and smiled; it felt good to do a little good in the world. Paying it forward indeed.
The warm, fuzzy feeling didn't linger for too long though, because my thoughts soon returned to Tyrese and his thugs, and what they might be planning to do to the diner. I drove home in a dark mood, silently making a promise that whatever harm Tyrese visited upon Bethany would be visited on his head tenfold. And that was a promise I knew I would and could keep.
I returned to my penthouse at the Willis Residences and immediately poured myself a whiskey on the rocks. I needed a stiff drink after today; not that it had been stressful, it was just that so much had happened.
As I sipped on the drink I made sure to keep my phone where I could see it, in case Tino called me. I had also let Bobby and Louie know that there might be trouble that would need attending to right away, and had instructed them to arm themselves and have bulletproof vests ready as well. My own gun sat next to my phone on the gleaming polished marble surface of my coffee table, which I stared at while reclining on my white Italian leather sofa. I knew it would ring, I just had a hunch that it would – the only question was when.
Soon enough it did ring, and Tino was on the line.
“Tino, talk to me,” I said.
“Boss, the CM guys have just showed up. What do you want me to do?”
“How many of them are there?”
“Looks like just one carload. They're getting out now . . . One, two . . . and that's it. There's only of two of 'em.”
“I guess that you'll be able to handle 'em on your own then huh? What are they doing?”
“They've got a canister of something . . . Gasoline I guess, since they're planning to start a fire.”
“Alright, get out and confront them. Tell those punks in no uncertain terms – and you know what I mean when I say 'no uncertain terms' that they'd best back off, and stay the fuck away from the diner. Don't kill anyone, unless you have to, of course. But you can bust 'em up good if that's what it takes to get the message across.”
“Sure thing boss. I'll take care of it.”
“Don't hang up the call. Put the phone in your pocket so that I can hear what they say.”
“Alright, I'll do that.”
I heard a muffled fumbling and crackling sound as Tino put the phone into his pocket, and then I heard him getting out of the car and walking along the sidewalk.
“Hey punks,” he said, “I'm putting an end to this party before it even gets started. Now get your damn asses out a' here before I go medieval on 'em!”
“Who the hell is you, cracker?” snapped one of them. “I'll bust yo' head in, fool!”
“Yeah, take a hike, asshole!” growled the other. “This ain't none a' your business!”
“Oh, but it is my business, you dumb pair a' jerk-offs. I work for Benito Sciotti, and he says that nobody that he don't approve of – and that includes you punks – is allowed within a hundred yards of the Canfield Grille. And right now, you two are breakin' that rule. So, unless you idiots wanna get hurt, and I mean hurt real bad, you'd better get your asses outta here right now.”
“Oh, you think we're the ones who gon' get hurt, do you?” replied one. “Maybe your math ain't too good, fool, but there's two a' us, an' one a' you!”
“This is your last warning, punks – leave now, or I'll make you leave.”
“Bring it on, cracker!”
Then I heard a thump and a grunt – and the fight was on. My heart started beating faster, almost as if I was there and could see it playing out before me, except, of course, that all I could do was listen. There were a series of thumps – punches landing, I guessed – and shouts, and then, suddenly, gunshots.
“Oh shit,” I muttered. “Things just got serious.”
“That's right, run away you damn punks!” I heard Tino shout. At least he was safe, it seemed. Then I heard police sirens wailing in the background, and then the sound of Tino running back to the car. I heard him start it up and then drive off quickly. After driving for a while, he took the phone out of his pocket.
“What happened there?” I asked him.
“Ah, those idiots! I was kickin' their asses, when they both pulled out knives. I had no choice but to use the gun to protect myself.”
“Did you shoot 'em?” I asked.
“No, I fired a few warning shots into the ground. That scared 'em enough that they ran off. Then the damn cops showed up, so I had to run off too. But I scared those punks good, and gave 'em a pretty damn solid stompin'. They gonna need to head to a hospital, I think I broke one a' their jaws and probably broke the other's nose. The Canfield Grille will be safe for the rest of the night, boss.”
“That's good Tino, that's good. You did good. Well done. I'll see you in the morning.”
I hung up the call, drank the rest of my whiskey in satisfied silence, and then headed off to bed.
THE NEXT MORNING
I was enjoying my breakfast of bacon and eggs, expertly prepared by my personal chef, when my intercom buzzed. I got up from my dining table, where I usually ate breakfast alone, and walked over to the intercom to see who it was. I picked up the phone.
“Hello?”
“Hey boss, it's me.”
“Tino. What's up?”
“I've got someone with me – someone who you're gonna want to speak to, I think.”
I smiled. It was Bethany – it had to be.
“You two can come on up.”
“Sure thing boss.”
I went back to the table and pushed what was left of my breakfast aside, and called the maid to come and remove it. Then I opened the front door, neatened up the table and waited for them to get here. Soon enough I heard the elevator doors open in the private lobby of my penthouse, and then I smiled as I saw Bethany walking in, followed by Tino.
“Tino,” I said, “you can wait outside in the lobby. I'd like to talk to the lady in private.”
Tino nodded, and after Bethany had walked in the shut the doors behind her and waited in the lobby.
Bethany looked radiant; she was wearing a business suit rather than her usual jeans and t-shirt that she wore at the diner, and her long blond hair was neatly tied up; she looked as if she had come to discuss something serious. She was looking incredibly sexy, and I bit my lower lip as I stared at her.
“Welcome to my home, Bethany,” I said warmly as she approached. “Please, have a seat,” I said, pointing at the chair opposite me.
“Thank you,” she said, looking away and sounding a bit nervous.
“How did you find out that I lived here?” I asked.
“I didn't. I went to your fitness center looking for you, and your man Tino was there. I explained who I was and what this was about, and he said he would drive me to your house – which he did. It's a, uh, it's a gorgeous place, I have to say.”
“It is a nice place, huh? And it can be yours, Bethany. Think about it. This could be your home too, if you want it to be.”
“I've come to talk about our agreement,” she said.
I chuckled.
“Well we don't really have an agreement yet, do we? There's only the contract that was drawn up between myself and Sal – and you realize by now that I'm not going to deviate from the terms outlined in that agreement. So, tell me Bethany . . .why have you come here?”
She swallowed and sighed.
“Last night . . . last night was really bad. There were gangsters outside my diner, and there was a fight, which got so bad that gunshots were fired, and someone called the cops. I don't know who it was, but thankfully they left after the police arrived. But last night, after all of that, I could hardly sleep at all. I was afraid. I was really, really worried. Those CM guys – they said they were gonna come back this morning for their money, and I don't have it. So, I shut the diner for the day, and came straight here before they could come and demand the money from me.”
“Well you know that I can protect you . . . If you honor the agreement between Sal and me, of course.”
“I know that, and that's why I've come here. I want to propose something to you.”
“You know the offer is not open to negotiation. I told you, I'm not bending on the terms of the contract,” I replied.
She nodded.
“I understand that, but would you just hear me out?”
“Sure. Say what you wanna say.”
“I can't agree to be . . . yours in body, mind, heart and soul. Not yet. Not yet, alright? But I can come and live with you. I can be, for all intents and purposes, your woman – but only out in public. Behind closed doors, you don't me. And I'm not saying that you can't ever touch me, but I want it to be when I've gotten to know you, when we've gotten to know each other. I don't want to have to sleep with you because I'm obligated to – I want to do it because I want to. And I can't just give my body to someone who I hardly know. But if you give me time, I can . . . I can be yours, body, mind and soul.”
I smiled and nodded.
“That sounds like a deal I'd be willing to make. We will be married soon, that's part of the deal. You understand that, right?”
She nodded.
“I understand that. And all I'm asking for is a bit of time to get used to you, to get to know you, before we jump right into this.”
“Alright. I can agree with those terms. I won't deny that it will be difficult for me, Bethany, because I want you. So bad I can’t explain it, but I was raised to respect women, and I was raised to be honorable. And so help me, I won't touch you until such time as you want me to. But you have to move into my house today. I don't want to put that off at all.”
“Will I have my own room and my own bed?” she asked.
“Yes. You'll have your own room and bed until you feel you're ready to share mine. I can accept that.”
She looked very, very relieved, and almost looked as if she was going to cry.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice cracking. “Thank you, Benito.”
“Call me 'Ben',” I said. “Just 'Ben'. And from this point on, consider yourself officially protected from the CM gang. I'll send someone over to the diner right now to watch over it. As for you, you need to go back there with Tino to start packing whatever belongings you need to bring back here. Tonight, you're sleeping in this house.”
“Alright,” she said, with tears rimming her eyes. “Thank you, Ben . . . thank you. But there's one more thing I want to ask about.”
“Go ahead.”
“The diner. Are you going to take it from me? You know . . . to recoup the money owed to you by Sal.”
I shook my head.
“No. If you want to keep the diner it's yours. You can keep running it, and you can keep whatever profits you make.”
“What about the apartment upstairs? It'll be empty, since I'm moving into your place.”
I hadn't really thought about the apartment much. I scratched my chin and hummed as I thought about it for a while.
“Right now, there ain't nothin' that I want it for. But I'm sure we'll figure something out about it. But for the time being, don't worry about it.”
She looked very pleased that I had at least allowed her to keep the diner, and seeing that broad, beautiful smile spreading across her face made me beam out a big smile of my own, a smile that I could feel spreading its warmth through the core of my being. It felt great to be able to make her feel good.
We both stood up, and then she turned around and walked out. Her business suit showed off the curves of her ass in an amazing way, and down below, I could feel my manhood swelling with excitement and anticipation.
I wouldn't be able to touch her yet . . . but I could certainly fantasize about it.
I went to my bedroom and closed the door, and then lay down on the bed and closed my eyes as I began delving deeper into the fantasy.
I pictured her walking up to me in that business suit, and then unclipping her hair so that it tumbled around her shoulders. I pictured her slipped her hands up under my shirt, and feeling with an appreciative touch the swell of my muscles. Then I imagined sliding that jacket off her shoulders, and unbuttoning her blouse. I would slide my hands over her torso, gently caressing her ribs and her soft, flat belly as I leaned in and kissed her. And then my hands would slide around her waist, settling on her ass and then gripping each of those firm, round ass-cheeks in my hands, and digging my fingers in and pressing her up against me hard, pulling her into me so that she could feel the generous size of my arousal, now fully hard, pressing into her.
And then, after pressing her into my hardness and rubbing it up against her, my hands would move up from her ass, and then they would unclip her bra, and I would lift it off her chest. Her breasts, large, firm and pert, would pop out, and I would grip them in my large hands, massaging and caressing them with eager fingers. And then I imagined her nipples stiffening beneath my touch, and her moaning with pleasure into my mouth as we continued to kiss.
As I massaged her breasts and squeezed her nipples with increasing firmness, her hands would move down and begin unbuckling my belt. And then she would slide my pants down my legs, rubbing her hands eagerly over my huge, muscular thighs, and then she would reach for my tower of manhood, standing tall, proud and throbbing with keenness. I could imagine the shiver of sheer delight that would rip through me as she curled her fingers around it and started to move her hand with tantalizing slowness and lightness across the whole of its length, back and forth, back and forth . . .
And then my hand would slip down her silky belly between her thighs, and down over her smoothly-shaven mound, where it would find a hot, wet slit opening with eager readiness for it. And I would slip it inside her, and a shiver of pleasure would run through her body as she gasped and shuddered.
And at this, she would increase the pressure and speed of the strokes she was performing on my member, sending rushes of bliss through my body. And then I imagined lifting her up into the air, where she would keenly spread her legs wide around my hips, and then lowering her onto me, and sliding myself into her until I was hilt deep, feeling her wet tightness enclosing my manhood utterly.
And then I would begin to thrust, slowly at first, bringing her surge after surge of joy, but moving faster and harder, faster and harder with every stroke until we were hammering away and crying out like animals . . .
I shuddered as the orgasm ripped through me . . . And couldn't wait for this fantasy to play out in reality. It would happen . . . I just knew it would.