Page 42 of The Kingpin's Call Girl

EDIE

I tell the second cabbie to drop me off on a Little Albania side street a block from the restaurant, just as Bender wanted.

I pay in cash and walk the rest of the way, passing a shuttered shoe shop and a tailor’s storefront that looks like it’s been around for generations—the kind of place guys like Luka probably go to get suits made.

I imagine him standing on a stool like a movie mafioso, squinting into the distance while an old man measures his powerful arms. His squint would deepen as he broods over his dark empire. His dark brows get these little wings in the middle when he squints, but they stay pointy on the outer edges. And, of course, his devil-angel eyes would stay wrongly gorgeous.

The restaurant turns out to be on one of those below-the-first-floor spaces where you have to go down a couple steps. There’s no sign, but it’s clearly a restaurant, judging from the red canopy and candlelit interior.

I head down and pause in front of elegantly carved dark wood double doors. There’s a menu posted on the side window above a picturesquely drippy candle.

I clutch my small pink purse in both hands.

I ate two packs of ramen noodles before I left so I wouldn’t be hungry. I’m going to just be fake and smiley and not even give Luka the satisfaction of feeding me properly. And most of all, if he thinks he’s getting the scorn, he can guess again.

This date will be unsatisfying to him in every way. Maybe he’ll send me home before anything else even happens.

The door to the place opens, and I straighten. It’s the man who seems like a soldier. Storm, I think they called him.

And then Orton comes. “Gimme the bag.”

I hand over my small clutch, and he goes through it. Phone, makeup, and a small wallet. Mints. He pockets the phone and hands the bag back.

“Hands on the wall.”

“What?”

“Do it.”

I turn and put my hands on the wall. “I’m not armed.”

He snorts like that’s ridiculous. Like, even if I were armed, it wouldn’t do shit. Then I realize he’s looking for a wire. Recording devices. Maybe that’s why he took the phones.

What can they do about the giant recording device between my ears? That’s the one they should worry about. That’s the one Bender is counting on.

He looks hard into my eyes. “I’ve been with Luka over twenty years. He sees everything. Understand?”

I nod.

“You wanna know what happens when Luka sics Storm here on somebody stupid enough to fuck with us?”

I look over at Storm, who glowers at me in his special ice-mountain-man way.

“I’m not up to anything,” I say softly, hoping he doesn’t sense my fear. I’m desperate, suddenly, to get to Luka.

“You wanna know or not?”

“No.”

“Good answer.” Orton leans in. “Because if you knew, it would fucking haunt your dreams. Let’s go.”

He leads me through a candlelit sea of hushed voices and soft clinks against crystal.

Booths are built into the wall along the sides and the back, all spaced far away from each other and private.

Nestled into the far back corner is the most shadowy booth of all, but it’s not shadowy enough that I don’t see Luka’s impossibly beautiful eyes.

He stands.

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