by K. C. Crowne
Work had come easily to us, and we became wealthier than we ever thought we could be. So it made sense that six months later, we would put some of our new-found fortune into a second business venture, the diner. We called it Dirty Dens, after the nickname of our beloved fallen buddy, and made the place our own safe zone.
It was a place where we could chill, stuff our faces with muffins and milkshakes, and not mention a single word about work. I spent each morning there, and most evenings too.
Dylan yawned again but smiled gratefully as Tracey appeared with the pot of coffee.
"You're a doll," he said to her, and she blushed before walking away with a wiggle of her hips. "Did you see the way she looked at me?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows. "And the way she walked away shaking her ass? I swear she's coming onto me."
"Hey, she was all over me first," Jared joked, but I could tell he was annoyed.
"She's all over all of us," Lucas commented as he perused the menu. "She's just after tips."
"You guys are a bunch of cynical bastards," I said, mouth full of bacon. "Can't you just accept she's a friendly girl who's just, you know, being nice?"
They all looked at me as though I had two heads.
"For someone so experienced in life, you're pretty naive,” Dylan remarked, taking the pot of coffee off the counter and filling a large cup.
"Whatever," I mumbled. "Anyway, what's up with you, Dylan? You have a rough night?"
"I had the best night," he replied with a wink. "Met this chick at this bar and—"
"I don't wanna know the rest. Spare the details."
"I wanna know the rest," Jared said.
Lucas laughed from behind his menu.
"You guys’ll get bored chasing skirts eventually," he said, his eyes lingering over the list of burgers. "Won't be long until you start wanting to settle down."
Dylan let out a sudden and loud laugh that made Jared almost jump out his skin.
"Me? Settle down? I think the fuck not."
Lucas just shook his head and said, "I tell ya, getting married was the best thing I ever did."
Dylan looked repulsed at the thought and grimaced as though in physical pain.
"Anyone tried the chicken burger?" Lucas asked.
Before any of us could answer, all our phones beeped simultaneously, and we reached into our pockets.
"It's a message from Mayor Wallstein," Dylan said, confused. "Says we need to meet him at his house right away."
We all shared a concerned look, then sprang into action.
"Let's go," I said, urgency in my tone.
"So no one's had the chicken burger?" Lucas quipped as we walked out the door.
The four of us piled into my truck as we reluctantly drove away from the diner. Lucas stared longingly at it with chicken on his mind.
"What do you think Wallstein wants?" Jared pondered aloud. "He's never called a meeting like this before."
"Guess we'll find out."
Ten minutes later, we pulled up to the golden gates of his sprawling estate that sat on the edge of town in the valley of the nearest mountain. A fountain sat at the end of the long, graveled driveway with a cherub in the center, water gushing out of the flute in its hands. Behind the fountain lay the house. Spread over three floors, the magnificent building was built in the late 1800s by a wealthy, though unscrupulous, landowner. Everyone in the area loved the house, and during the warm summer months, you could even get a tour of the place. But secretly, I was creeped out by it and thought it looked remarkably like The Overlook Hotel from The Shining.
To our surprise, Wallstein was waiting for us on the front steps and led us inside quickly.
"Good of you to come so fast," he said, his jowls shaking as he spoke.
I'd always had a soft spot for the old man and thought he was a fair and kind mayor after the corrupt bureaucrats we'd had before. But his appearance betrayed him, and he looked like your typical bad guy politician with a deep tan, swept back silver hair, corpulent body stuffed into a designer mohair suit, and a long line of gold rings stuffed around his sausage fingers.
Inside, he led us to his office, an opulent mahogany covered room with endless shelves of leather-bound books and a golden chandelier hanging from the ceiling.
"Thank you for being here," he said, taking a seat behind his desk. "I've been given some worrying news, and of course, you guys are the first people I thought of. Please, take a seat."
After we were situated, he continued. “A few locals have called me recently," he began, tangling his fingers together. He cleared his throat. "About possible sightings of the Gianni brothers."
"The Gianni brothers?" I choked, immediately troubled.. "They're in town?"
"It appears so."
"Who are the Gianni brothers?" Jared asked, confused.
We all rolled our eyes at him while Dylan pretended to slap him on the back of the head.
"Have you been living under a rock? The Gianni brothers! As in Benny Junior and Mario!"
Jared just blinked at him.
"I'll explain," I said, pulling up a chair. "Back in the seventies, mob boss Benny Gianni Senior used Station Springs as his little hidey hole, buying a huge mansion in the mountains where he threw parties and did God knows what else.”
Except the guy got caught laundering obscene amounts of money through various banking organizations that led to a series of events that later got him convicted of murder. So, his house lay abandoned for decades while he served life in Sing Sing.
"And he died recently," Lucas added. "Was murdered in his cell just last week."
"Yikes." Jared lifted his shoulders and clenched his teeth.
"Yeah, you don't wanna know. Anyway, that’s not the end of the story. Apparently, rumors have been circulating for years that before Gianni went to jail, he buried a ton of money, diamonds, and priceless paintings in the mountain around his house so the Feds would never get their hands on it."
"And now that he's dead and so is the reach that came with him, his sons are in town," Wallstein confirmed. "Probably trying to get their hands on all that supposed treasure."
Jared was stunned as he tried to take it all in.
"Wait, wait, wait. The Mafia? Murder? Buried treasure? All in Station Springs? It sounds like a Pacino film."
"That's right," Wallstein said, leaning forward on his desk. "And I’d like to ask you guys to keep an eye on any intelligence that comes your way regarding activity on the mountain. I've already briefed the sheriff. He said he'd welcome your input since the police force in this town is…how do I say it—” he waved his hand around as he searched for the word— “limited."
That was an understatement. Although the population of Station Springs was growing fast, it still had a small police department better suited to a tiny mountain village, not a blossoming town with a booming populace.
The butterflies returned to my stomach as the prospect of a new challenge awaited. Station Springs was a quiet town with a minimal crime rate, but this new threat of the Giannis had ruffled the feathers of the locals. And it was up to us to assuage any fears they had and keep a close watch. Who knew what the Giannis might be planning?
"We'll be watching the Gianni boys," I told Wallstein. "Don't worry about it."
"That's what I wanted to hear," he said. "If I can’t trust you guys with the task, I can’t trust anyone."
Chapter 3
Gabby
"Carly!"
Jared opened the door and hugged his sister before taking her bag. Then he looked at me for a second and looked puzzled.
"Whoa, Gabby. I barely recognized you. You look so different."
"You mean I look old?" I laughed.
"No, um, just mature."
“So…old."
"It's a compliment!" he defended as he leaned in for a hug and pulled away with a boyish smile.
"You look really great."
"You too," I said, although I secretly thought he looked like a childish version of Jackson.<
br />
"Come on in," he said. "Did you have a good drive?"
"It was horrendous," Carly moaned as she made herself at home, throwing herself on the couch. "Snowed all the way up and the traffic was a total nightmare."
"Bummer," Jared sympathized as he put our bags down and reached for his coat. "I heard the weather's supposed to be really bad this weekend. The weather dude said there's a gnarly storm on the way."
"Aw, great,” I said. “Just what we need when we're heading to an open-air concert.” I watched him put on his coat. “What's with the coat? You goin’ somewhere?"
"I was thinking the three of us could head out to the bar at the end of the block and grab a few drinks. You know, get a proper catch up since the concert isn't until tomorrow."
"Sounds fab," I announced, putting my coat back on. "I'd murder for a rum and coke."
Carly yawned, rolled off the couch and grabbed her purse.
"Alright but I'm starving, so this place better have good chicken wings.”
The bar had the best chicken wings we’d ever had. We sat at the bar knocking back our drinks as Carly dug into her basket of chicken and licked the barbecue sauce off her fingers.
"Mmm... Mm Mm Mm..."
"Give me one," I said.
"My precious," she hissed like Golem from Lord of the Rings and clutched the basket to her chest. She laughed and held the basket out for me. "Only kidding, help yourself."
Jared was watching the television above the bar where the channel was tuned to the local news. The weatherman was frantically waving his arms as he panicked about the upcoming snowstorm.
"People are so ridiculous," I observed. "I mean, it's Colorado for Christ's sake. We've seen snow before."
"Not like this," the barman commented, overhearing me. "It's set to be the worst storm on record."
"Well that sucks," I replied, sipping on my drink.
The barman nodded and walked away to clean the glasses.
"So, Jared. Is this your local hangout? You come here every day?"
"Here and Dirty Dens."
"Dirty Dens? What's that?"
"It's the diner me and the boys own."
"You guys own a diner now? That's awesome."
"Sure is. All the free pancakes I can eat, and I get to flirt with the cutest little waitress in town."
Carly burst out laughing as she threw bones into her basket.
"You flirting?" she chuckled. "May I remind you how terrible you are at flirting. Honestly, you're like, hur durgh... I like cheese and Crossfit. Wanna hang out with me?"
"Shut up Carly. I am so not like that."
"You so are."
"I am not!"
"Children!" I said, raising my hands between them. "Calm down."
They both mumbled insults under their breath and went back to their drinks.
"So, the diner," I said to return to the subject. "Where is it?"
"On High Street near the bank," Jared told me as if I would automatically know where that was. "It's near Jackson's apartment."
Jackson. I wondered how long it would be before I heard his name. Jared saw the uneasiness on my face and how I started picking nervously at my fingernail.
"Don't worry, you don't have to see him if you don't want to," he murmured sympathetically.
I nodded silently and gulped my drink. It wasn't that I didn't want to see him. I would have loved to see him. I just didn't want to go back to a place where my emotions could get involved.
Sure, I’d thought at one point that he was the one for me— had been madly in love with him— but he had broken up with me, and I didn't want to go dragging myself back into the past. What Jackson and I had was magical and memorable, but it had happened during my younger, more naive days, and it would stay there.
Behind us, a group of young men entered through the swinging doors, their obnoxious laughter echoing around my head like fireworks. I spun round, annoyed, and saw half a dozen guys in black leather jackets with black jeans and boots.
"Who the hell are they?" I asked Jared.
He was squinting at them and looking them up and down with a wary eye.
"Never seen them before in my life."
There appeared to be a ringleader, a squat, tubby guy with greasy hair and a scar down the side of his face. From the swagger to the way he laughed, everything about him screamed danger.
His eyes looked like they belonged more on a shark than a human, and as he ambled to the jukebox, his movements were almost snake like. I had never distrusted someone so much just on sight.
I watched as he slipped a coin into the jukebox and hit the button. An old Roy Orbison track boomed out of the tinny speakers, and he started crooning along with it, dancing around the room as though he was holding an invisible lover.
"What an absolute loonball," Carly observed. "The guy's a creep."
He continued to dance, laughing at his own antics as though he was the funniest guy in the world. I looked over at the barman for a clue as to who he was and saw that he had disappeared into the back.
When I thought the guy couldn't get any weirder, he looked at the three of us, and seeing we were the only other folk in the bar, made a beeline for us.
"Well, hello honeys," he schmoozed, strutting over.
No. No. No. Don't you dare come over here.
His friends were watching with big, dumb, cheesy grins on their faces. They clearly idolized him, but I couldn't figure out why. He couldn't be any taller than five-foot-four.
His eyes flickered from me, to Carly, then back to me again.
"Now you're a hot little thing, aren't you?"
His sleazy voice dripped out of him as he stepped even closer. Part of me wanted to laugh at him, but the other told me I shouldn't dare. The guy was obviously a lunatic.
"Wanna come dance with me?" he asked, clapping one of his pudgy hands around mine.
"No thanks."
"Aw, come on, honey."
"I said no."
"No need to be like that. I reckon the two of us could really have some fun together."
"Look," Jared said, stepping between us, "she said no, okay? Now leave her alone."
The guy looked up at Jared, who stood head and shoulders above him. If he had any sense, he would have been afraid of a big Navy SEAL towering over him, but he looked mildly amused. At the back of the room, his friends were watching, waiting for something to happen so they could step in. I could see them leaning forward, licking their lips and rubbing their hands together as the promise of a fight hung thick in the air. Beside me, Carly looked nervous, her eyes searching wildly across the counter for the barman, who had mysteriously vanished.
"Fine," laughed the little guy. "I'll leave her alone. For now."
He walked away, still grinning as he returned to his friends.
"I think we should go somewhere else," I said, returning to my seat and gulping down my drink.
"Nah, we'll be fine here," Jared assured us. "Just ignore those guys. They’re just assholes who'll get bored in a minute and move on."
"It's weird you've not seen them before," Carly mentioned. "I thought you knew everyone in this town."
"Me too," he mumbled, glancing at them. "But we have a lot of people coming in for the concert."
“Uh, those guys don’t exactly look like they’d follow a pop star on tour,” I noted.
Jared nodded absently before reaching for his phone.
I turned back to the TV and tried to ignore the idiotic laughter from the guys behind us. At last, the barman emerged with a worried look on his face and his forehead covered in sweat. Cracking open six beers, he carried them on a tray over to the little guy and his pals.
"It's on the house," he said before backing away.
On the house? Who are these guys?
For a moment, I tried to figure them out. They certainly weren't from around here. They had thick, New York accents and carried themselves with that typical, big city arrogance that just didn't exist in a small tow
n like Station Springs. I shivered and tried not to think about them, but every time I turned back to the TV, I felt eyes on the back of my head.
"I'm going to the bathroom," I told Carly.
"Want me to come with you?"
"No, it's cool. I'll just be a second."
To my dismay, the door to the ladies' room was situated at the back of the bar where the men were congregated around the pool table. For a moment, I considered returning to my seat, but not only would that have drawn more attention to myself, I was close to peeing my pants.
Just keep your head down. Ignore them.
But as I sidled past, I was very much aware of that little goblin creature in the leather jacket watching my every move. Hurrying into the bathroom, I slammed the door closed and locked it before letting out a long sigh.
What a weirdo, and what a dump this place is.
Looking down at the stained floor, I saw cracks and cobwebs up the wall and only a thin piece of toilet paper flapping off the battered cardboard roll. Cigarette burns marked the cubicle wall, and the toilet seat was broken. I did the hover move all girls knew how to do in a public bathroom. I was not sitting on that toilet.
Trust Jared to think this was a great place to bring us. He didn’t need to sit down to pee!
At the sink, I ran the tap to wash my hands, but it did nothing but squeak and spit out brown water. I gagged a little and was grateful for the hand sanitizer in my bag.
It was officially time to move on and find a new bar. As I reached for the door, I thought about somewhere cozy with good music and clean bathrooms. I thought about tasty cocktails, not cheap beer, and comfy seats, not bar stools. But as I opened the door, my chance of leaving soon vanished.
There he stood, the goblin in leather, with his eyes boring right into mine.
"How about that dance?" He grinned, stepping into the doorway to block my exit.
"How about you go screw yourself?"
His eyes darkened and his cheeks flushed.