Chapter 20

Jane

The days passed by in a glorious set of midnight rendezvous with Michael. He was quickly getting me addicted to his body.

I needed to spill my guts to Sayla and Beth something fierce; they should know about him. Every detail.

Well, maybe not every detail. I smiled privately to myself, shuffling along through the three person line at Culver’s Coffee. It had a rustic feel to it, with old wooden boards and sanded down tables and chairs; purportedly they were all handcrafted by the great grandfather of the family James Culver. Black ceiling fans spun lackadaisically above; moody interior lights lit up the whole place with a dull, sweeping gold.

I could feel the weight of someone’s presence behind me, and a lizard brain part of me demanded that I turn around and see who was drilling holes into my back. Trying to utilize my self professed super power, I think I caught a hint of this person checking out my ass.

Right before I turned around, a firm, thick finger tapped on my shoulder.

This made me whip around, but the end result wasn’t something that I was all too happy about.

Connifer. Leo’s right hand man.

He gave me that wild smile, seemingly quite genuinely happy to see me. Maybe he was just insane like his boss. “Fancy meetin’ ya here,” he said, completely self aware that he must have stalked me here.

“If you’re here it must be for more than just coffee,” I concluded dryly. “But since you’re here, I’ll ask: Icy or hot?”

Connifer’s eyes danced with amusement. “Sounds like ‘ah question for the bedroom, I’d say.”

“Since when did criminals have a sense of humor.”

He wiped his hand at his nose and sniffed in a fiercely quick movement. “We’ve actually got a comedy club,” he pointed with his whole hand to his right, “down on Pontepool and Hermenez.”

I raised my brows at him, almost ready to believe him.

Connifer snickered with some delight, “Nah. I’m just fuckin’ with ya. No good bones in that game.”

The black, older gentlemen at the front with a pork-pie hat left the line, and we moved closer. “Why didn’t the man come himself?”

“Because I’m the man,” he barked playfully. “Now get ‘cher coffee and meet me outside for a little chat. Oh and don’t worry,” he said, “it’s on our tab. Eddie Culver treats us right.”

***

We sat down on one of the tables outside and I sipped on my blond coffee in the warm morning weather, the fluffy Altostratus clouds hovering above us.

“Boss is gettin’ a little impatient with you,” he brought the, most surprisingly, decaff coffee up to his lips and paused before sipping. “Not a good thing, I promise ya.”

“I’m not doing it,” I flat out told him. “Michael’s not some bad person.” That was something I believed with every fiber of my being, now.

“Maybe,” Connifer offered unconvinced, “but the players he’s in bed with are. His father, namely.”

“It’s not my business,” I straightened in my chair, not afraid to refuse them any more.

“Really should be,” Connifer’s lips turned into a Cheshire’s grin. “I’m not telling you to do this,” he explained, leaning forward with both his arms folded over each other on the table. “I’m offering it to you as a courtesy. Cause I like ya. Cause the boss seems to like ya. Even despite the shit ya pulled.”

Now I was confused. “If it has something to do with Michael--”

“When you go fishing, you cast a wide net,” he explained in a sinister voice, downing more of his coffee, seeming to be enjoying the scalding pain of burning his own mouth. “We turned somebody before the sun came up. Much less noble than you,” he cocked his head to the side, then leaned back in his chair, the legs of it’s back supporting the now floating front. “Half the sum we could pay you. Petty little thing, that one.”

“Who?”

“Now why would I tell ya that,” he laughed, “no, no no no. I’m being serious here,” his tone stiffened. “You should take this deal, might open options between us in the future.” He cleared his throat, “you haven’t actually gotten some feelins’ for this guy now, have you?” When I didn’t answer, understanding filled the lines of his face. His eyes crinkled when he smiled. “Boy you’ve got it bad,” he told me. Yeah, I know I do. “Let’s just say this person was a close family friend to the Smoak’s.”

“I think that you’re bluffing.”

“No need to.”

“So show me proof.”

Connifer grumbled, reaching into the pocket of his coat and producing ten to fifteen pieces of paper stapled together. He slid it over to me, but kept it in his hand, letting me read what was on the surface.

It could still be a trick. But there were details of Michael’s mansion that only someone close to him could possibly know. Intimate information on him, and even some things that I wasn’t aware of. And it wasn’t just talking about Michael, but his father and other names likely related to the company as well.

Not good.

My heart fluttered in my chest, and I felt frozen to this stupid chair. What was I supposed to do? “I don’t think he could forgive me if I did this to him,” I said, mostly to myself. A Latino woman with long black hair and silver ear piercings carried a boom-box on her shoulder as she passed us on the streets. The bass pumped, and when she continued walking, my eyes met with Connifer’s. “If I do this,” I felt a snake constrict around my throat, “you have to keep Michael’s image in tact. He can’t be hurt by this in any way.”

Connifer shook his head, “Can’t promise that. Lot of people will be taken to court, at least to start with. Might be an accident or two, if ya know what I mean.”

“If you don’t promise it, then I don’t care. You can either go through with it, or eat crow.”

Connifer considered me over for a moment, fiddling with the cup of coffee in his hand. The front door of the coffee shop opened then, and the bell rang all cheery like the one man I cared about in my life wasn’t about to have his life ruined. “Alright,” he conceded, “I’ll do everything that I can, Pretty Jane. Damage to your little lover boy’ll be peripheral. Pleasure doin’ business.”