by Vivi Paige
Father Mike was where I thought he would be, up front, offering blessings to any who asked for them. Mike and I had gone to high school together. We even dated for a hot minute back in the day, but even then, he knew he wanted to be a priest.
“I love God,” he had said back then, without any hint of irony in his voice. “And I want to serve. Both him and his people. It’s what I’m called to do.”
When he told me that, I wasn’t surprised at all. Mike was, and still is, a genuinely good person. I kissed him one last time and then I walked away.
We kept in sporadic touch over the years. He came to a little party I threw for myself after I finished law school and I attended his ordination into the priesthood. His mother was there. I don’t know that I have ever seen someone so proud in all my life as she was that day.
When the various church scandals broke open across the country, I reached out to Mike, to see how he was handling it. Mike was truly ‘one of the good ones.’ Selfless, caring, considerate, he believed that God had a plan for us all. He was heartbroken when all the abuse stories came to light.
He was upset about the church, of course, and what this meant for its reputation, but he was destroyed and distraught over the children. The lives that had been ruined. He told me, that day, that he would be doing everything he could to restore that trust and to help those people that had been hurt.
I approached him and caught his eye, just as he finished with a parishioner. He gave me a warm smile and a wink. It was good to see him. It always was.
“Sophie,” he said kindly, giving me a strong hug. “It’s so good to see you again. It’s been too long.”
“Father,” I said with a grin.
“Stop it,” he said. “I called my father ‘father.’ Mike is fine. You know that.”
“I know, just teasing. I wonder if I can pick your brain for a minute.”
“Sure. C’mon. We’ll head over to the rectory,” he said and led me out through a side door near the altar.
We entered the rectory, less incense, but still plenty of Murphy’s, and settled down in the living room. A fire was crackling in the fireplace. Worse places to spend a rainy day, I thought.
“So what’s up?” Mike asked. “Everything okay?”
I hesitated slightly, wanting to tell him about the blackmail and the mob and all of it, but I stopped myself. I didn’t want him to get dragged into my mess. I’d never forgive myself.
“I’m doing some background work for a client,” I said instead, which at least was the partial truth.
“Okay. Whatcha got?”
“Mike, you familiar with a Chicago priest named Glen Gilberti? He’d be older than us, but I was hoping that you—”
Mike had a surprised look on his face as I spoke.
“What?” I said. “What is it?”
“I was literally just gossiping about this with some fellow priests yesterday. You know how we gossip like an old sewing circle.”
“I do indeed. You’re worse than teenage girls.”
“Absolutely,” he said, laughing. “But yeah, we were just talking about him.”
“Why?”
“Well, I don’t know him personally, but the guy is a bit of a mystery.”
“What do you mean? How so?”
“Well, he’s been a priest less than a year. And somehow, the word is that he, like… blew through the seminary. Graduated in some kind of record time.”
“Really?”
“Oh yeah. No one can quite figure it out. It’s strange. We don’t know where he came from or how he managed to have it all happen for him so fast. It’s bizarre.”
Bizarre indeed.
So, who the hell was Glen Gilberti before he became a priest?
Chapter Ten
Indro
I was feeling better after meeting the Don. That could have gone a hell of a lot worse than it had. I had heard plenty of stories of fingers being chopped off and ankles being broken as “warnings” in the past.
I made a note to thank Flavio later for sticking up for me. He didn’t have to, but he did anyway. I think that’s what made the final difference with Maloik. He trusted Flavio and it showed.
Now, all I needed to do was prove that trust wasn’t a bad idea. And, to do that, I was going to need to get out from under these charges.
I headed back to Sophie’s office to see what, if anything, she had uncovered so far. I know she hadn’t had a lot of time yet, but time was a luxury that I couldn’t afford right now. Every moment counted. So let’s dig up some rock and see what we can find.
It had been snowing since I was with the Don, but it had stopped now, although the sky was still a steel gray and a sharp wind was whipping through the city off of the lake.
I banged in through Sophie’s office door, just to see her hanging up her jacket.
“Jesus!” she said, startled. “What the hell are you doing here so soon?”
“What’s the matter?” I said. “Hoping someone had taken me out?”
She smirked at me. “You don’t want me to lie, right?”
“Funny. You’re funny.”
“So I’ve been told.”
She moved to sit down in her seat behind the desk.
“Hey, hey, hey,” I said, moving over towards her. “What are you doing?”
She looked at me like I was an idiot.
“What the fuck does it look like I’m doing, Indro? I’m sitting at my desk. I’m tired and I’m cold and I’m sitting the fuck down.”
“That’s my chair now,” I said. “Whenever I’m in this office, that’s where I sit.”
She stood there, looking at me with some strange combination of boredom and defiance. And then she sat down.
“Whatever you say, boss,” said Sophie, with an edge to her voice. I stood staring at her.
“You’re welcome to sit in the chair across from me,” she said, gesturing towards it.
Fuming a touch, I sat down.
“So?” I said after a moment. “What have you found out? Must be something by now.”
She shook her head at me.
“First of all, I’ve been on this case for about three seconds. Secondly, I have other cases to work. Other clients. I can’t spend every waking moment on this. There are other priorities—”
“Nah,” I said, cutting her off. “You’re wrong about that. There are no other priorities. No other clients. No other fucking cases. This is the only case. Me. I’m your only client.”
“No,” she said, holding my gaze the entire time. “Doesn’t work that way, Indro. And bullying me isn’t going to make me work faster.”
“Yeah?” I said, lowering my eyes. “You sure about that?”
She leaned across the desk, her elbows forming a perfect triangle, leaning her head towards me.
“I’m absolutely, one-hundred percent positive,” she said.
I stared at her a moment, impressed and enraged. She wasn’t a coward, that was for damn sure. And if there’s one thing I know, it’s that you want your defense attorney to be bold. Boldness wins the day.
I sat back in the chair and laughed.
“You got some balls on you,” I said, chuckling. “I’ll give you that.”
“Damn right I do,” she replied. “Now, are you going to keep acting like a jackass or do you want to hear what I’ve learned so far?”
“I’m all ears,” I said, sitting back, spreading my hands out wide.
“So, after speaking with a contact—”
“Who?”
“I’m not telling you that.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s non-negotiable.”
I looked at her a moment and decided it wasn’t worth pursuing.
“Fine. Go on,” I said.
“Turns out that Father Gilberti has an interesting past. He’s only been a priest for about a year, and how he got there is a bit of a mystery. Word is, someone may be pulling the strings behind the scenes somewhere.”
; “Really? Well, then. Let’s go pull on the good father’s strings and see what we can find out.”
She shook her head.
“Not an option.”
“Why? Because he’s a priest? Fuck that. Just ‘cause you wear that collar don’t make you a saint or anything like it.”
“It’s not that,” she said. “I don’t care about that. It’s about where he is.”
“Oh yeah? Well, where is he? ‘Cause there ain’t no place that I can’t get to him.”
“Is that right? How about witness protection?”
“What? Are you serious?”
“As serious as the grave.”
“How could that prick be in witness protection already?” I said, standing up suddenly and kicking the chair as I did.
“Hey!” Sophie said. “I get that you’re pissed but don’t take it out on my office furniture, all right? I buy that shit with my own money.”
“Sorry,” I said, straightening the chair. “I just don’t get how he could have possibly made it into witsec already!”
Sophie shrugged at me, shaking her head.
“That tidbit came up in discovery. Witness protection combined with the fast-tracking he did to become a priest suggests to me that he's connected somehow. Got some kind of guardian angel on his side. We just have to find out who. And why.”
“So, what’s the next step then?”
“The next step is I keep looking. See what I can dig up. It’ll be something. Nothing stays hidden forever.”
I looked at her, impressed.
“So it turns out you know your shit,” I said admiringly.
“Just ‘cause I’m pretty doesn’t make me a rookie, know what I’m saying, Indro? You’d do well to remember that.”
Huh. Maybe I really had underestimated who and what Sophie was. I sat back down in the chair, leaning on her desk.
“How about I take you to lunch?” I said, with a little bit of flirtiness behind it. I mean, she was a looker, after all. Shame to let that go to waste.
“Are you asking me on a date, Indro?”
“What if I am?”
“I don’t date clients,” she said. “That’s a general rule of thumb I follow.”
“Well, rules are made to be broken,” I said with a smirk. “Just like thumbs.”
Chapter Eleven
Sophie
Indro took us to a little bistro on the south side of town, called Luciano’s. I had never been there before and, when we walked in, it was clear to me why.
It looked to me (and I could have been completely wrong about this, but I didn’t think so) that the entire restaurant was filled with guys who were connected. Made, as the saying went.
I got glimpses of gun holsters tucked away under sharkskin jackets, resting against silk shirts.
It was hard to believe that stereotypes like this existed, but we had stereotypes for a reason. Everyone in here could have stepped off an extras call for Goodfellas or something like that.
As we entered, almost everyone looked up and greeted Indro, offering a hand or a nod of the head. Indro made it a point to greet everyone in turn. It was like he was running for mayor or something. This was a new experience for me and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.
We were seated at a table away from the door. I was about to sit down when Indro stopped me.
“Excuse me,” he said, “we need to switch seats.”
“What?”
“We need to switch seats. I can’t sit there.”
“What? What do you mean, you can’t sit there?”
“I can’t sit with my back to the door.”
I looked at him for a long moment.
“So you’re thinking that if someone comes in, guns blazing, they’ll take me out first if my back is to the door?”
Indro laughed at that, a cold sound.
“It sounds awful when you put it that way,” he said, holding out my seat for me. Not wanting to argue, and wanting this lunch over, I sat down. I figured the best way to get along here was to play along.
He sat down across from me and a waiter appeared almost instantaneously.
“Buona giornata,” he said, turning to me. “Welcome to Luciano’s. Have you dined with us before?”
Indro shook his head.
“She hasn’t, Louis. Bring us the cabernet, the linguini in clam sauce, Caesar salad, and some fried calamari, si?”
Louis nodded and bustled off to the kitchen, presumably.
“What if I don’t want any of that?” I said.
“Nah, you’ll want it. It’s the best food in Chicago. It’ll knock your socks off, I promise you that.”
He was infuriating. As arrogant as the day is long. The problem I was finding was that somewhere, inside me, I liked it. I could feel it. And I didn’t know how to reconcile that with the other aspects of him.
The man was a criminal. Not someone who maybe made a mistake one time, not someone who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. This was his career. He was a bad guy. Straight up. No middle ground or gray area here.
Now, I will grant you, I was a defense attorney. I didn’t care if my clients were innocent or guilty, I took cases to win. I was being blackmailed, yes. But I could have found a way to overcome it.
And yet…
Here I was. Having my lunch ordered for me. By a thug. A handsome thug, but a thug nonetheless.
The salad arrived and, even though I thought I wasn’t that hungry, especially given the circumstances, it was delicious. Maybe the best such salad I’d ever eaten.
“What do you think of the grub? Not bad, am I right?” Indro said, washing down a bite with the wine.
I nodded, still chewing.
“It’s… it’s surprisingly good,” I said.
“Damn right it is. You won’t get food this good anywhere else in town.”
“Well,” I said, taking another forkful, “I’ll remember that. I hope you do, too.”
“Meaning what?”
“Oh, nothing. Just saying that my guess is that they don’t serve food this good in prison.”
“Ha, yeah. Believe me, they don’t. The only things they serve in prison are lockdowns and beatdowns. And you don’t want either of them, believe me.”
“And you don’t want to drop the soap either, from what I hear,” I said. I saw Indro bristle at that. A little weakness.
Hm. Well. Let’s see how that plays out.
“I mean, unless that’s your thing,” I said, reaching for the wine.
Indro grabbed me by the wrist, causing me to spill the wine.
“Hey!”
“What the fuck did you just say to me?”
“What’s the matter, big boy?“ I said. “Can’t take a little… poking?”
Holding me by the wrist, he pulled me out of my chair, knocking it over. Not one person looked up. I guess scenes like this were fairly common.
“What the hell are you doing?” I shouted as he yanked me into the kitchen of the restaurant.
It was busy back there, water boiling, sous chefs chopping vegetables, waiters moving about.
“Everyone out, now!” Indro commanded. Instantly, everyone in the kitchen was gone, without question. He let me go and paced back and forth in front of me.
“You think you can make jokes about that?” he said to me. “Think you can make jokes like that to me?”
I stood right up to him, getting in his face.
“Listen to me, you Stone Age Neanderthal,” I barked at him, ”I’ll make jokes about whatever the fuck I like and that’s that.”
“Oh yeah?” Indro said.
“Yeah.”
Suddenly he whirled me around and bent me over the countertop.
“What are you doing?”
I watched him grab a wide, plastic spatula from a container and he held in front of my face.
“You watch what you say,” he said to me quietly, leaning down into my ear, “or you get punished.”
“Who the fuck do you thin
k you—”
I stopped when I felt the spatula whack hard against my ass.
I didn’t know what to say.
Then Indro spanked me again. And again.
I was shocked to say the least. And every time he made an impact, I yelped a little. It didn’t really hurt. It stung slightly. But no more than that.
It was, however, humiliating.
And here’s the real kicker: I think I liked it.
He had taken control of me. And I liked it.
This really had become a strange day.
Chapter Twelve
Indro
Fuck me—that was hot.
The idea was to spank some of that sassiness out of her, but I didn’t expect to enjoy it as much as I did. Now, as I looked down at her bent-over figure, the curves of her perfect ass calling out to me, I couldn’t help but want more. Maybe Sophie had it right when she told me she didn’t date clients. It just made things more complicated than they should be.
Then again, what was life without complications? They were fun, provided they were the right kind of complications. And a complication with the breasts and ass that Sophie had… well, fuck, do I really need to explain myself?
“Next time you think of making a cutesy little joke,” I said, throwing the spatula aside, “just remember that there’s a price to pay.” I cocked my arm back and, opening my hand, I brought it down on her ass. My palm smacked her cheeks with a satisfying sound, and a pleasant shiver ran up my spine. Inside my pants, my cock twitched happily, probably wondering what the fuck was going on out here.
“Did you have fun?” Sophie pushed herself away from the counter and, with a scowl, used one hand to smooth out the wrinkles in her skirt. Despite the attitude she was showing me, there was a deep shade of crimson on her cheeks. It made the red of her lips stand out, like one of those vintage Chiantis the Don always kept in his cellar.
“Do you think it’s fun to mete out punishment?” I cocked one eyebrow up, and then offered her a grin. “Trust me, this hurt me just as much as it hurt you.” Not exactly one of my most charming lines, but what the fuck—I was still reeling from how much I had enjoyed this. All I needed was to take a minute or two, and then I’d be ready to spit out some serious Italian game.