Page 245 of Vita Mia

He was tired. Business was good. But running it with his son and no other real management to help meant double shifts and long nights on the weekend. He now owned three nightclubs and four liquor stores. The Pink Pussycat was the only one of the seven that stayed open 24/7. He and Shae had recruited some of the sexiest women from across the country, and often featured celebrity hosts on the weekends to draw in the young crowd. Between promoters, the workers, and building inspector his day had been shit.

Javier, his floor manager, followed him out the back door to the alley where he’d unloaded some of the top-shelf liquor for the bar. He suspected why. Javier typically hit him up for side cash to support his family at the end of the month. Because he was an illegal he got paid off the books and could never log enough hours to earn the money legitimately. Javier was only thirty-two and had nine kids, but he was a hard worker. To keep him from hustling in the club Carlo cut him some under the table cash from time to time.

“Boss, Big Earl sent me to find you. We got a problem?” Javier said.

Lucio paused.

The word ‘problem’ never really left the lips of his employees unless it was serious. Lucio didn’t like problems. He handled them swiftly to keep his profile clean. Since the death of Giovanni, the heat had cooled. However, he still reeled from Arielle’s betrayal. After he visited her in the middle of the night years ago she went to the authorities and told them that he was alive. She told them of the cover-up of his death. The crazy bitch had succumbed to grief and it turned her senses to madness. She wanted his son, and thought his imprisonment would give her the right. Arielle had never betrayed the Camorra, but with Giovanni gone and the power infrastructure crumbling, women like her were caught in between the two worlds. She loved baby Carmine, she loved Adara, so for her there was only one choice. When Giovanni died in that car crash Arielle’s grief doubled her madness. She wrote a letter to Dominic cursing her life and her failed attempts to be loved by Giovanni, saying that they were the true destiny. And after she mailed the letter, she sent another to the prosecutors confessing to having lied to them all. She then put a gun to her head and pulled the trigger.

It took years for Lucio to let go of his guilt. If he hadn’t had visited her that night would she still be alive? He made sure to never reach back into his past again. He was careful, prepared, suspicious. Something in Javier’s tone caused the hairs to back of his neck to stand on end.

“What kind of problem?” he asked.

“A customer,” Javier began. “He’s been drinking all day, having girls dance for him, spending little cash. Now he’s refusing to pay the tab.”

“Have DeAndre and Big Earl deal with it,” Lucio said and started to the truck door.

“Boss, they were, but he said he’s Sicilian.”

Lucio froze.

“The man said that the Butcher has covered his bill. When we asked him who the Butcher was, he said you would know.”

Lucio glanced back over his shoulder. “Where is he?”

“He’s waiting at a booth. Big Earl is on him. They can deal with him but there’s something about this guy. He’s looking for a fight. Keeps taunting Big Earl. I think you might want to check him out.”

“Take me to him.”

Javier went back inside of the club. The music was obscenely loud from the back of the club. He heard the DJ call for the men to open their pockets and pay for the pussy instead of spectating. He entered the side door and saw some of his best girls across the platform doing the open and close scissor pose with their legs. A few were squatting and on all fours making their butt cheeks quake. Money was tossed to the stage from every direction. Lucio kept his eyes on the patrons. Most were having lap dances or laughing with friends over bottles of champagne and hard liquor. He walked around a maze of tables and then up the stairs that led to the booth seats. Here the music’s blare lessened and he could at least hear himself think. It was the way he had sound proofed the place.

Javier touched his sleeve. “There he is, Boss.”

Big Earl stood at least seven feet tall and weighed over four hundred pounds. His fists were bigger than tires. He had skin darker than night and a shaven head with a stark white beard. Lucio scooped him up fresh out of prison and made him head of security over three clubs. He paid him a salary of close to two hundred grand a year, and Earl became one of his most loyal employees. He could not see the man in the booth but he could tell someone had to have really pissed the bouncers off if Earl was summoned to sit on him.

“Earl,” Lucio nodded.

The giant stepped aside. Lucio’s gaze immediately went to the offender. The left eye-patch and scar on the man’s cheek was the only unrecognizable feature. Lorenzo sat there sipping on his beer with a teasing smile to his lips. Lucio smiled in return.

“I’ll handle this. He has an open tab. Make sure the bar knows,” Lucio said.

“Yes boss,” Big Earl said and walked off.

Lucio eased into the booth. He stared at Lorenzo as if seeing a ghost for the first time.

“So this is the Pink Pussy you always bragged about. You should have left the name at that. Carlo would have. Pink Pussy Cat sounds like a bad cartoon.”

“How did you find me?” Lucio asked.

“After Gio’s funeral I started contact again with Domi, eventually it came up in conversation,” Lorenzo smirked.

“Why did you find me?” Lucio asked.

“It’s been over six years. A long time Carlo,” Lorenzo said.

“I’m Lucio Romano now, Carlo is dead, Lo. You shouldn’t have come here.”

“Bullshit,” Lo chuckled. He glanced around at the club then back to Carlo. “I see you everywhere.”

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