by Mia Ford
“Well, you don’t really know how to play roulette,” I said. “You just pick a color and number and give it a spin. It was all dumb luck.”
“How much is in there?” he asked cautiously. I could see a film of sweat coating his forehead and upper lip. He wiped the sweat away with the bar rag and stared at the briefcase.
“Enough to settle your debt and put me through a couple of years of school,” I said.
“Settle my debt?” He held up his hands and shook his head. “No, no way, I will pay my own debts. I’ll figure it out. I don’t need you paying for my sins.”
“Dad, you told me they would kill you if you didn’t pay them $75,000 by the end of the month. Has that changed?”
“No.”
“So, you will use $75,000 of this money to get square with them,” I said. “But after that, no more gambling because I won’t help you again. Do you understand?” I reached across the bar and put my hand on his arm. It was the first time I’d touched my dad in years. “Dad, promise me. No more.”
“I promise,” he muttered with tears in his eyes. “I swear on your mother’s grave. No more.”
“All right then. You set up a meeting with them and I’ll give you the cash to pay them off. Meet them in a public place. In daylight. Today. Do you understand? You pay them and then never see them again.”
“I understand,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. His eyes overflowed and the tears streamed down his ruddy cheeks. “I’ll go call them now.”
I squeezed his arm again. “Dad, I love you. It will be all right.”
“I know,” he said, sniffing back the tears. He didn’t say that he loved me back, but I knew that he did. He wiped his nose on the bar rag and carried it with him into the kitchen and up the stairs to call the men who had threatened his life. My only hope was that once they had their money, they would know better than to trust him again.
* * *
I counted out $75,000 in cash and put it in a paper bag and handed it to my father when he came downstairs. He didn’t open the bag. He tucked it inside his Member’s Only jacket and zipped it up, his version of safe keeping.
“I’m meeting him in the park in an hour,” he said. “I’ll be back right after that to open the bar.” He paused to look me in the eye. “Thank you, Katrina. I’ll never let you down again.”
“That would be awesome,” I said with a playful smile. I leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “Be careful, daddy. I’ll be here when you get back.”
* * *
I was finishing the inventory when my cellphone on the bar rang. I looked at the number. The caller ID said Nicky D. I smiled. He must have put his number in my phone without me realizing it. I picked up the phone and slid the screen to answer the call.
“Well, hello there,” I said. I felt my heart speed up in my chest when I heard his voice.
“Hello back,” he said. “Did you make it back to the city okay?”
“I did, thanks to the car service you sent. That was very kind of you. I could have called a cab.”
“I didn’t want you taking a cab carrying all that cash,” he said. “I talked to Lois before I left and she promised to take good care of you for me.”
“She did a fantastic job,” I said gleefully. I had to pinch myself to calm down. I sounded like a giddy school girl gushing over the phone. “So, are you at work?”
“Since eight A.M.,” he said. “I was actually hoping that I could kidnap you for a late lunch. Are you busy?”
I leaned back against the beer cooler and bit my lip. “Um, no, I could get away for an hour or two. Where would you like to meet?”
“Why don’t I come to you,” he said. “I’ll pick you up in an hour and we’ll find a place close by.”
“Actually, I have an appointment downtown,” I said. It was a lie, of course, but I wasn’t ready to expose him to the reality that was my life. “Just text me your address and I’ll meet you there.”
Nicky texted the address of his office and I set my phone back on the bar. I had taken all of the beer out of the cooler to inventory it and to clear out a place to hide the money. I took the briefcase and set it at the bottom of the cooler, then covered it with several layers of beer bottles and cans. I knew I couldn’t walk around the city carrying that much cash and I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with it yet. I mean, if I put that much in the bank they would have to notify the IRS. I was fine with paying my share of taxes, but until I could figure it all out, hiding the money seemed to be the best bet.
I went upstairs to do a quick check of my hair and makeup, then went out the back and locked the door. I normally would have taken the subway, but I had five hundred dollars in my pocket and was dying to spend some of it. As they say, it was burning a hole in my pocket, mainly because I’d never had more than a few dollars on me before. I felt like the richest girl in the world.
I hailed a cab without worrying about the fare and went off to have lunch with my new lover.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Nicky
I was waiting on the sidewalk when the cab pulled up and Katrina waved at me through the dirty window. I held the door open for her, then took her into my arms and gave her a long, sloppy kiss right there on the sidewalk.
“Wow, do you greet all your lunch guests this way?” she asked with her wrists crossed behind my neck and a smile on her gorgeous face. My eyes took her in. She was even more beautiful than I remembered.
“Just you,” I said, taking her hand. “Come on, I have a fancy restaurant in mind that I think you’ll like.”
* * *
Katrina grinned as we stood in line at Nathan’s to order our hot dogs and drinks. She was clutching my arm, leaning into me. “This is your idea of a fancy restaurant?”
“I’m a pretty basic guy,” I said, playfully bumping her with my shoulder. “Next time I’ll fly you to Paris for dinner. For now, I was craving Nathan’s.”
“Fair enough,” she said. “Although, for the record, I hate French food.”
“Duly noted,” I said. “Maybe we’ll just stick to fast food.”
We finally got to the front of the line and ordered our food, then carried it to a corner table and spread it out like a grand feast. We both dug in, no pretense here after the weekend we had, and ate as if we were starving. Apparently, our weekend, and the energy we expended had left us both famished.
I finished my Chicago dog and wiped my lips on a greasy napkin. I watched her swirl a French fry around a puddle of ketchup and asked, “So, what are your plans now that you are a woman of means?”
“Well, I guess I will apply to a few schools to see who’ll have me,” she said with a sigh. “My high school grades were good and my SAT scores were not terrible, but I have been out of school for four years, so…”
“That shouldn’t matter,” I said, reaching across the table to brush a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “You’re brilliant. You’ll get in wherever you apply. If there’s anything I can do, a letter of recommendation or whatever, just let me know.”
“And exactly what would you be recommending me for?” she asked with a devilish gleam in her eye.
“I would recommend you for many things,” I said, feeling her foot rubbing against the inside of my calf. She had slipped her foot out of the shoe she was wearing. I could feel her toes crawling up my leg like a sexy spider. Her eyes burned into mine. I wanted her so fucking badly I could have swept the trash from the table and taken her right there in Nathan’s with everyone watching. I felt my cock getting hard in my pants just thinking about fucking her.
“Can I ask you a professional question,” she said, breaking the mood even as her foot slid higher up my leg. She wiped her mouth and picked up her drink. She shook the ice and took a sip. I watched her luscious lips close around the straw. It made me swallow hard.
“Of course, Miss Donovan,” I said. “I am at your service.”
“All that cash,” she said, leaning in and lowering her voice. “Should I just put it i
n the bank or what?”
“The IRS will eat a huge chunk of it if you do,” I said. “Tell you what, give me a day or two and I’ll work up a plan for you to protect the money and keep it available for tuition and expenses.”
“That would be awesome,” she said, squeezing my hand. She gazed into my eyes and gave me a dreamy smile. “Can I see you later?”
“You can see me now,” I said, arching my eyebrows at her. “We could go back to my place. Or I could come to yours.”
“Actually, there are some things that I have to take care of at home this afternoon. Can I text you later? Maybe see you tonight?”
“You can text and see me anytime,” I said. I reached under the table and stopped her toes just before they reached my cock. “For now, you need to pull that foot back and give me a few minutes to compose myself.”
She pursed her lips and glanced down, as if she could see through the Formica table. “Why, Mr. D’Angelo, is that a hard-on in your pants or are you just glad to see me?”
“Yes and yes,” I said with a grin. “Let’s just say that if I try to walk out of her now I’m afraid I’d make a spectacle of myself.”
“Well, it is a hot dog place,” she said. “Your foot-long would be right at home. She grinned and pulled her foot away. It just made me want her more.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Katrina
I was starting to freak out a little. It was nearly six o’clock and I hadn’t heard from my father, who had been gone for nearly six hours. And because I hadn’t heard from my father, I had not texted or called Nicky to set up a date for later tonight. The old feelings of dread, the ones that used to hang over my head like a dark cloud, returned as I paced the floor and stole occasional glances out the window. Was my father ever coming home? And if so, what shape would he be in when he arrived?
I got the sinking feeling that something had gone terribly wrong when he went to pay off his gambling debt. These people he was dealing with, they were not nice people who operated within the bounds of the law. They were thugs and criminals, not above hurting or even killing someone to make a point or get what they wanted. My father was in grave danger. I could just feel it in my bones.
I tried calling his cellphone again and it went right to voicemail. I had been calling him every ten minutes for several hours. I had left a dozen messages pleading with him to call to let me know he was okay. The dark feeling was so strong that I had not opened the bar. I kept the closed sign on the door and the lights off. Patrons came by and knocked, but I ignored them and didn’t let them in.
I was about to call dad’s cell again when I heard a noise coming from the kitchen. I burst through the door to find him on his hands and knees just inside the back door. Thank God, he was alive, trying to push himself up off the floor. I rushed over and helped him sit up with his back against the wall. My heart stopped when I looked at his face. He had been beaten to a pulp.
“Oh my god, dad, what happened?” I screamed, my hands on his shoulders. I swept my eyes over him. His eyes were nearly swollen shut. His nose was broken and bloody. His lips were split and puffy. His face, shirt, and jacket were covered in dried blood.
“I’m okay…” he whispered, holding out his hands to blindly reach for me. “I just need… to lie down.”
“Christ, daddy, you’re not okay,” I said, taking his hands and squeezing them tight. “You need a doctor. I’m going to call an ambulance and the police.”
“No, no, don’t do that,” he said desperately, clutching at my hands. “That will only make things worse.” He leaned his head back against the wall and peered at me through the slit of his right eye. “Please, just let me rest for a minute. I’ll be okay.”
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I ran to the sink and wet a cold rag and brought it back to him. He took the rag and held it to his split lips. “Thank you… I’m okay… just need a minute.”
“Daddy, tell me what happened.”
“He said it wasn’t enough.”
“Who said it wasn’t enough?” I asked. “What does that mean.”
He struggled to breathe through his swollen lips. His nose was completely broken and blocked. “He said there was more money. He said the seventy-five grand wasn’t going to be enough now. He wants it all. The son of a bitch. He wants it all.”
I felt a cold chill creeping up my spine. “Daddy, tell me exactly what he said. Word for word.”
He licked his lips and tried to swallow. “He said you had two hundred thousand dollars. He wants it all or he will kill us both.”
The breath caught in my throat. “How did he know I had that much money? Daddy, how did he know? Did you tell him?”
He let his head roll from side to side. “No, I had no idea how much you had. He said you had two hundred thousand dollars in a briefcase and he wants every cent or he will kill us both.”
I swallowed the lump that had lodged in my throat. “Daddy, tell me the man’s name.”
“No, Katrina, you can’t fight these people and you can’t call the cops,” he said. He coughed and put the towel over his lips. It came down covered in bright red blood. “You have to leave, Katrina. You have to get out of town.”
“Daddy, goddammit, tell me the name of the man who did this to you!”
When my father said the name of the man who had threatened our lives, I had to fight back my tears. I knew my change in fortune was too good to be true and too good to last.
People like me aren’t meant to be happy.
I’d had one glorious weekend and was rich for a short time.
Now, it was all going away.
* * *
I helped my father to bed, then cleaned his wounds as best I could. It looked worse than it was, but it was bad enough. Ice packs would take the swelling down around his bruised eyes and split lips, but his nose was broken and needed to be set, and his right cheekbone stuck out more than it should. He promised to let me take him to the hospital the next day and I reluctantly agreed.
I gave him a couple of extra-strength Tylenol and sat next to him until he fell asleep. Then I went down to the bar, pulled the ice-cold briefcase from the beer cooler, and went to face the man who had done this to my father, and to me.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Katrina
I had never been inside Gino’s Gentlemen’s Club; or any strip joint for that matter. I knew nothing about the place other than what Bethany had told me. She had worked there a few months and was fucking the son of the owner, a guy named Tony. She had never told me his last name and I had never been interested enough to ask.
I took a cab to Gino’s and walked through the front door holding the briefcase tightly in my right hand. Bethany was working the floor, serving drinks to tables filled with rowdy men. When she looked up and saw me standing near the entrance, she did a double-take, as if she thought that her imagination was playing tricks on her.
She came to me with her bare tits bouncing on her chest and a round drink tray between her hands. She was wearing a sheer thong and high heels, and nothing else. I glanced at her when she waved, but then let my eyes continue around the room searching for the man I had come to meet. The place was dark, but not so dark that I couldn’t see who was there.
“Jesus, Kat, what are you doing here?” Bethany asked, clutching the tray to her breasts as if she were trying to hide them from me. “Is something wrong? Did something happen?”
“Your friend Tony,” I said calmly, still scanning the room. “What is his last name?”
She frowned and blinked at me. “D’Angelo,” she said warily. “Why?”
“Is he here?”
“Yeah, he’s in the VIP area like always.” She stepped in front of me, forcing me to look into her eyes. “Kat, what the fuck is going on?”
“Take me to him,” I said. “I have something for him.”
“Kat, seriously, what the hell…”
“Take me to him now, Bethany,” I said forcefully enough to make her blink. She stared at me for a moment with a
confused look on her face, then turned and started making her way through the club with me following close behind.
I had never met Tony D’Angelo before. I wasn’t aware that I had ever even seen him. But when I saw him sitting in the booth with his arms around the shoulders of two naked dancers, his hands squeezing their tits as he nuzzled his nose into their necks, I recognized him immediately from the auction. He was the man who was standing next to Nicky, the guy who looked like a character from The Sopranos. He was the cousin Nicky mentioned. And the man who had beaten my father senseless and threatened our lives.
There was another man sitting at the table. The muscle head I’d seen him with at the auction. He was sitting at the end of the booth with his elbows on his knees, nonchalantly picking at the scrapes across his knuckles, the result of hitting my father over and over in the face with his fists.
“Uh, Tony, this is my friend, Katrina,” Bethany said, stepping aside when we reached the table. Poor Bethany had no idea what was happening, but there was no time to explain. The muscle head took one look at me and got to his feet as if he thought he had to put himself between me and his boss. Tony D’Angelo grinned at me for a moment, then pulled his arms away from the girls.
“Ladies, take a hike,” he said, pushing them out of the booth. He stared at me while he spoke. “Bethany, another round for the table. And bring your friend, Kat, something. She looks like she could use a drink.”