by Shay Savage
“I still need some context.”
“I want to know if you’re safe.” He continues to look at me, apparently refusing to qualify the question.
I wonder if he’s been reading some kind of self-help book on how to get to know people, and he’s just repeating random questions.
“Without context, the question is meaningless,” I reply. This is starting to piss me off. “I always wear my seatbelt. I’d also like to try skydiving sometime. You’ll have to clarify the question for me to give you a valid answer.”
He shakes his head, clearly unsatisfied with my answer. He yells at the bartender to bring him another beer as I look around for a sign pointing out the restrooms. Of course, if I sneak out, I’m leaving him responsible for my drink. If I ask for a check, he’ll figure out I’m leaving even in his current state, and that would hurt his feelings. Maybe he’s had a rough day, and I’m just being too hard on him.
“You never know what someone else is going through,” Aunt Ginny would tell me. “Sometimes people are unfriendly because they’ve been treated poorly, and you should be the person who always treats everyone with kindness and understanding.”
I take a deep breath and order another drink. If I’m not stepping out, I should at least enjoy myself. Maybe I’ll get enough alcohol in me to join the dancing college students. Hopefully, Aaron has too much beer in him to join me.
What if he wants to dance?
I’m not sure I can handle that. The very thought makes my stomach churn. As Aaron grabs yet another bottle of beer, I wonder why I don’t just leave. I already know the answer—I don’t want to hurt this guy’s feelings by walking out on him after an hour. I also rather like the club. The music is fun, and the bartender is efficient even if overworked.
A tall, muscular man walks up to the bar, squeezing between Aaron and the woman on the other side of him. He yells at the bartender, but the bartender waves him off. Apparently, he doesn’t have enough patience to wait, and he leans over to grab a bottle of vodka from behind the counter.
“Hey!” The bartender moves up and reaches for the bottle.
For a brief moment, Aaron actually releases his bottle of beer and sits it down on the counter. He turns to me and leans forward a bit more.
“You’re fucking hot, you know that? Are you a cherry, Cherry? I’d like to taste that cherry.”
My mouth drops open, and I lean away from him. Before I can answer, the tall, muscled man next to him pulls the vodka away from the bartender, and in the process, knocks his elbow into Aaron’s bottle. It tips over, and beer spills across the bar and onto Aaron’s lap.
“Motherfucker!” Aaron jumps up, fists clenched.
He’s a good six inches shorter than the blond guy and probably fifty pounds lighter. I have no idea what the hell he’s thinking, but everything happens so fast, I can barely react. All I do is sit there in shock.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, asshole!” Aaron yells.
“Oh, wow, dude!” the tall man says. “I’m really sorry. Let me get you a new one.”
“Fuck you!” Aaron turns on him, eyes blazing. “What about my fucking jeans?”
A few of the patrons sitting at the bar jump up and move out of the way. Others gather in small clumps, staring pointedly, but no one moves to intervene. I sit frozen in my seat, having no idea what to do. I get that Aaron’s a bit upset, but his reaction to the obvious accident is insane. Aaron stands on his toes, still glaring, as the tall man’s expression makes a slow but definitive change from friendly to absolutely menacing.
“Listen, dude,” he says. “It was an accident, and I’ve apologized. If you don’t get your shit together, you won’t be walking out of this club. You get me?”
Aaron quickly glances in my direction, and his eyes narrow even further. Without a word, he rounds on the tall man and pulls back his fist. He lets it fly with great force, and his fist glances off the tall man’s chin.
I hear gasps all around me, but the tall man barely even flinches.
“Do you feel better now?” he asks. “Can I get you a new beer, or do you need a concussion instead?”
Aaron growls and then lunges. Tall man casually sidesteps, and Aaron flies past him. The tall man grabs Aaron by the arm and smashes his face into the beer-covered bar counter.
The bartender jumps back, hands in the air as the bar towel drips beer onto the floor. I leap from my seat and move away from the insanity going on around me.
Aaron flails against the counter as the tall man continues to hold his face down. In contrast, the man’s face is almost expressionless. If anything, there’s the hint of a smile. Clearly, he’s not exerting himself.
“Let him up, Antony,” the bartender says.
“As long as he’s learned some fucking manners,” Antony responds. He releases Aaron, who immediately moves to shove him. It backfires—again—and Aaron ends up flying backward, his ass hitting the floor with a thump loud enough to be heard over the music.
Antony laughs and the bartender hides a smile as he starts cleaning the counter again. I just stand there as Aaron grabs ahold of the barstool’s leg and hauls himself to his feet. He glares at Antony and then drops back into his seat. He grins at me smugly as if he were the one to win the fight.
While others retake their seats, and the watching crowd disperses, I stare at Aaron. I’m still in shock over everything that just happened. I’ve never even seen a bar fight, let alone been so close to one, and I have no idea how I’m supposed to respond.
“I think you owe us both drinks,” Aaron says to Antony. Then he looks back to me. “Sit.”
“I’m really not sure I want to,” I say curtly, trying to maintain some composure.
“Do it anyway.” He grits his teeth as he looks at me and then nods toward the barstool.
“What?” My heart pounds rapidly though I’m not sure if it’s from fear or anger. I shake my head slowly, trying to form words.
“Just sit back down, Cherry,” Aaron snarls.
“Are you serious?” It’s anger. Definitely anger.
“Sit the fuck down!” He balls his hand into a fist again, and I stare at him incredulously.
This can’t be happening.
Before I can say anything else, the bartender intervenes.
“I think it’s time for you to go.” He drops a bill in front of Aaron. “Pay up and get out.”
“I didn’t fucking do anything!” Aaron yells and points to the tall man. “That asshole is the one who should go.”
“I tried to apologize to you, dude,” Antony replies.
“Fuck you!”
“I think I’ll just leave,” I say as I grab my purse from the back of the barstool. I take a step away, intending to grab cash from my purse to cover my tab, but of course I have no cash because I used it all for the cover charge. I pull out a credit card, knowing I’ll now have to wait for the bartender to bring my card back.
“Yours is on the house,” he tells me. “You deserve a break for putting up with this asshole.”
“Oh, no! You don’t have to do that!”
“You want someone to walk you out?” the bartender asks, still ignoring Aaron’s protests.
Before I can answer, a deep, calm voice speaks from right beside me.
“Hang for a minute, please.”
I startle and then look up to find the dark-haired, square-jawed VIP standing next to me. He’s tall, has deep blue eyes, and just the right amount of sexy five o’clock shadow. All thoughts of Aaron and his douchebag actions completely dissipate. The new man is literally sex incarnate, and all I can do is stare. He offers me a crooked half smile, and my stomach does a somersault. My throat goes dry, my heart beats faster, and I nearly drop my purse.
Holy fuck.
Chapter 4—Family Meeting
This is it.
I lean back in the chair, sighing loudly and trying not to fiddle with my diamond cufflinks or fidget in my seat. The chair doesn’t feel right on my ass, and the
grand mahogany desk in front of me feels too far away. It’s nearly devoid of decoration save an ornate desk clock and a gold-plated cup full of pens. If I scoot the chair a little closer, I can almost reach the opposite side of the huge desk. This is Pops’ chair, and I’m not supposed to sit here under any circumstances. Well, that’s how it used to be anyway.
All of that has changed now.
My father ran the Orso family business with a ruthlessness that only comes from extreme greed, and he taught my brother Micha and me the same cruel lessons he taught his rivals. Take no prisoners. Show no mercy. Get anything and everything you can, especially if you can fuck over your competition in the process. He gave the orders, and we followed them—no matter what.
Now I’m on the other side of the desk, giving the orders.
I’m not supposed to be the person in this chair. I wasn’t given the leadership lessons my brother was inundated with since he was a small child. I was taught to maintain family loyalty, kick ass, and do whatever my brother told me to do, but now he’s gone.
Not just gone. Micha was murdered.
I look around the room, conducting a silent roll call of those around me.
Standing near the closed door is my cousin, Antony Orso. He’s tall, blond, and full of muscles. If the Nazis had won World War II, he’d look perfect on one of their recruitment posters, regardless of our Italian heritage. If he’d been around during the forties and fought for the Allies, his stare would have caused any SS officer to shit his pants. On the inside, he’s friendly and generous. He’ll slip a random homeless guy a twenty or a sandwich more often than not, and if there’s a little old lady around, he’ll offer his arm to help her across the street. He uses his looks to get what he needs and rarely lays a hand on anyone in anger.
Not at first, anyway.
In front of Antony, Twos and Threes sit next to each other on the couch. Those aren’t their real names, of course. Tawny and Trey Thrace have worked for my family since they were teenagers, and the twin brother and sister are rarely seen apart unless their dirty work requires it. Though obviously fraternal, they do look a lot alike. Both of them are slender with dark complexions and the inability to stay still for more than a few moments. Tawny is the queen of manipulation and seduction, and Trey’s eyes always hold a devilish gleam. Years ago, Antony jokingly pointed out that three sixes were the sign of Satan, but Trey was only half devil, earning him the nickname “Threes.” Since then, that’s what everyone has called him. Tawny, as his twin sister, immediately became known as “Twos” simply because of their relationship. Twos and Threes fit very nicely in the gambling community and spend much of their time running the family’s illegal gambling establishments.
They cheat a lot, and the house always wins.
I glance left to see my aunt, Kathrine Orso, sitting on a wooden office chair, back straight with a clipboard and pen at the ready. I never knew my real mother—she died shortly after I was born—and as my father’s sister-in-law, Kate has often been shoved into the role of surrogate. Her greying hair is usually falling out of the clip in the back, and her eye makeup is always smudged. She’ll tell me things other people won’t, which is sometimes an advantage. She’s been the family accountant since my grandfather was running the business.
This is my team.
My sister Nora is—as usual—absent. So is Jack, her husband, but that’s for the best. There are a host of other cousins not in attendance, but they aren’t the core family, and their presence isn’t demanded.
Only one other figure graces the room with his presence. On my far right, leaning against the credenza with his arms folded across his chest and a scowl on his face, stands my father. Pops ran this business with an iron fist and a keen eye for business opportunities until last week when the business was officially passed down to me.
His second choice to run the family business.
Family. I mull the word around in my head a bit. Is it still a family business? Without Micha, it doesn’t feel like a family anymore. He had been my father’s favorite and the natural choice for this role I’ve been shoved into without preparation. My father doesn’t want me here—in this seat—but he has been left without a choice.
I look away from him quickly, scanning the room once more. The twins are beginning to fidget, and I realize I’ve been quiet far too long. Regardless, the words don’t appear to be forming in my head or on my tongue, and it’s Kate who breaks the silence.
“Nataniele, we all just want you to know how sorry we are—”
“Stop.” I hold up a hand, not wanting to hear any more. “Everything is fine. It’s all going to look a little different, but it’s still business as usual, and this is a business meeting. Let’s keep it professional, got it?”
“Of course, Nate.”
“Got it, boss.” Antony gives me a half smile.
The word “boss” rings in my ears for a few seconds, and I’m trying to figure out why he’s answering my question by talking to my father, but Pops doesn’t flinch. He just looks at me with his eyebrows raised until I realize Antony is talking to me, not him.
I’m the boss now.
“I’m not my father,” I say sternly as I keep my eyes on the desk, refusing to look over at him as I speak, “and that’s going to take some getting used to—for all of us. Everyone has a part to play in this family, and I can’t have anyone acting outside the family. I expect you all to remember that and check with me before you act. Going off on your own is why…” I pause for a second, taking a deep breath. “Well, we don’t want a repeat of the last year.”
I glance up. All the somber eyes are on me, and every head nods slightly.
“We all expected Micha to be sitting in this seat.” I glance down at the top of the desk and swallow hard before I continue. “We all feel that loss, and the family will never be the same, but Orso business in Cascade Falls, Ohio, must continue—legal and otherwise.”
Cascade Falls is a small town, and that has always suited us perfectly. The police force is small and entirely under our control, and the townsfolk on the east side are perfectly happy as long as we are providing them with jobs and security. The jobs are easy. Between our collection of legitimate businesses and the various illegal ventures, there is plenty of work to be done. As far as security goes, everyone is safe as long as they don’t interfere, and everyone knows better. The Orso name is royalty in Cascade Falls even if it’s a small kingdom.
Big fish, small pond.
“We’re going to focus on business being well-run and well-maintained,” I say to the group. “We’ll strengthen our associations and focus on trust. Blood or not, we’re a family, and I expect everyone to be loyal to this family.”
I relax a little as I hear everyone murmur in approval.
“Give me the accounting rundown, Kate,” I say. “Start with quarterly reports.”
“The casino is up four percent this quarter, and the club is up nine percent. Import-export is unchanged, but one of the freight forwarders wants to negotiate for more money.”
“Which one?”
“Quality Expeditors.”
“They ship to and from Asia, right?”
“Yes,” Kate replies. “They do the most volume there, but they also handle western and southern Africa.”
“Do we already pay them enough?” I ask.
“We pay them more than any others.”
“Antony?” I give him a sharp look.
“I can lean on them,” he says. “Try to figure out if they’re serious or not. They can’t afford to lose our business, that’s for sure.”
“Are the other forwarders in a position to pick up the slack if we drop them?”
“Not even close,” Antony replies.
“You can’t lose Quality Expeditors,” Pops says. “You also can’t pay them more. Don’t be a fucking idiot, Nate. Antony needs to do more than just lean on them.”
“Right. Of course.” I look away from Pops. As much as I might want his gui
dance, I’d rather he didn’t do it in front of everyone. My gaze meets Antony’s, and he raises an eyebrow at me. “You need to send a message, Antony. A strong message. We aren’t negotiating, and they aren’t dropping our business. This isn’t an option.”
“I can do that, boss,” Antony says. “Should I take Threes with me?”
“They know Threes will get nasty if he needs to,” Pops says.
“We need nasty,” I reply with a nod. “Threes, go with Antony.”
“Sure, boss.” Threes jiggles his leg up and down as he leans forward with his elbows on his knees.
“What about me?” Twos asks as she reaches over to still her brother’s leg.
“We don’t need to fucking charm then,” Dad says with a growl. “She’ll just open her legs for their manager and expect him to forget his own profits. That’s bullshit.”
I glance from Pops to Twos, but she keeps her eyes on me, not reacting to my father’s words. She tosses her long, bleached hair over her shoulder and elbows Threes again until he stops jiggling.
“Yeah, best you stay out of this one, Twos.”
“Fine,” she replies. “I’ll drive, at least.”
“She can’t drive for shit,” Pops mutters, and I glare at him.
“Twos can drive,” I say, still staring at my father. “I’m in charge now, and I’ll make the fucking calls. Everyone good with that?”
“Sure, boss.” Antony furrows his brow as he glances from me to Twos.
“Of course I am,” Twos replies. “That’s why I offered.”
I ignore her look of confusion. Pops has never cared for Twos, and I realize she’s used to ignoring his misogynistic remarks. I’m certain he only puts up with her presence because Threes is willing to do things no one else will.
I breathe slowly, trying to keep my agitation with my father’s interjections invisible to the others. I might have been in this business since I was old enough to understand what my family is all about, but I’m still the new guy in this position. I can’t show any weakness.
“Twos drives, but just Antony and Threes go inside. Antony does the talking. If they’re reasonable, then call it a day. If not, Threes will let them know the consequences of fucking with us.”