Page 5 of Dagger in the Sea

At twelve noon the next day I went over. What the hell. I was curious. And he owed me. What was he going to offer me? He’d told me he was in construction, real estate, looking into some new business venture online.

I met him at an Italian deli that had tables and chairs in West Loop. Muscled men hovered, elderly people slunk around him, glancing this way and that.

“Boss, he’s here,” said a huge, bull-faced goon who showed me to his table and stood behind him.

I held his gaze, my heart pounding. My father was the fucking boss of the Guardino crime family.

He’d really lied to me. It had all been a performance to ensnare me, to humiliate my mother. He’d played himself out to be a lowlife thug always behind the eight ball—Cut me a break, son. I wish someone would, I really regret not being able to be there for you when you were growing up, believe me.—when, in fact, since my birth he had risen the ranks to king.

I had been royally played. Duped. Fucked with.

“You don’t talk to no one here about us, you got that? They’ll know I hired you myself, so there won’t be any questions asked. But no one can know you’re my kid. No one. You understand? I have a wife, a daughter, a son. They’re my family. Don’t expect no special favors out of me either. I’m giving you an opportunity here, you got that? You got to prove yourself like everybody else. We’ll see how you work out then I’ll give you special assignments.” That wink again. “First, you prove to me you can take it, that you’re a man.”

Yeah, because, at the end of the day, he wanted to know that my balls were as tough and as big as his. He wanted them to be. I was his son. My balls were as tough and as big as his, and I could prove it. To him, to my mother, to the whole fucking world.

I’d done everything my mother had asked of me and I’d fit into her world spectacularly. Honor student, championship athlete, well read, articulate, masters degree. I’d pranced on her stage brilliantly and earned the applause and the passport into her business. I’d brought everything she’d cultivated in me into her company and had been an asset for her.

Then she dumped me.

I could achieve in Mauro’s world, be his asset. I’d make him respect my balls and regret he’d ever turned his back on me. I’d make my mother shudder and regret that she’d turned her back on me.

I took the challenge and took his job. He introduced me around using that nickname he called me, ‘Turo.’ With his help, I changed my last name to something Italian so I’d fit in, but there would be no hiding the fact that I was half-Irish.

No resumes necessary, no interviews to pass. No scrutiny by middle of the road minions. Just me. Me in action.

On call all hours of the night and day, I collected money on the street, transported packages, picked up packages, delivered all sorts of “messages” on the Boss’s behalf. Got paid sporadically at best, had to pick up the tab countless times for my overseers. Dirty work, crazy, and the craziest part?

I liked it.

I could feel the fear in a room when I approached. My temper was now a useful commodity, not a shameful thing to be punished for. The harder I was, the thicker the fear I invoked. That gleam in people’s eyes? Panic. Dread. Respect.

Three years went by, and then I finally got a regular gig in one of his many businesses. “I guarantee it’s better than waiting on tables.” He winked at me, a lift to his chin that said this conversation was over.

I had to pick up money. Nothing new there. Seedy, run down large apartment, flowery sweet scent spritzed all over, thick dark curtains on all the windows, votive candles trying hard to lend some sort of atmosphere. Women were seated on a grouping of worn out sofas in various stages of undress, looking bored on the edges and looking like they were capable of blowing my cock to the next galaxy the minute they caught my stare. Disney SexWorld for a horny twenty-something like me.

“Turo, you gotta wait a bit, all right? Sorry about that. Ms. Morantz ain’t ready yet,” said Eddie, the madame’s bodyguard, at the entrance where I waited.

“No problem. I’ll go grab some coffee and come back.” I turned to leave, but my eye had snagged on a curvy redhead in the corner.

Eddie nudged my shoulder. “Go ahead, man. Go for it. It’s on the house. Mr. G said anything you wanted anytime.”

“Oh yeah? He said that?”

“Yeah. You like Suzy over there, huh? It’s been a slow morning. Warm her up for her work day. You’d be doing us a favor.” He let out a laugh. “G’ahead. Get to know the product. Hey, Suzy!” Eddie slanted his head in my direction. Suzy uncrossed her legs and smiled big as she rose from the sofa, her short purple negligee falling open revealing huge, bare tits and a tiny thong. She prowled toward me, my pulse throbbing louder and louder with everyclickclackof her very high, very garish heels on the scuffed wood flooring.

Click clack. Click clack.

Her dark eyes focused on me like sonic lasers burning into my flesh. “Hey, baby,” her voice soft and inviting.

Eddie brushed her chin with his fingers. “Be good to Turo. He’s working with us for Mr. G now. We’ll be seeing a lot of him from here on in.”

“Oh, nice,” Suzy’s voice cooed as she put my hand on her formidable ass, leading me to a tiny bedroom in the back. Something told me this would be very different experience from the college girls and office and bar hook ups of my past. Once in the room, Suzy got on her knees and went down on me. She slid off at the perfect time and we fucked, her coaxing me to go harder, faster, moaning wildly like I was the best she’d ever had.

Somethingclick-clacked, all right, as I pumped inside her furiously, coming like I’d never come before. This was a game, a game I liked. A game I was always guaranteed to win. A game played by whatever rules I wanted and I didn’t have to convince the girl under me to like it, and I sure as hell didn’t have to pull myself back from being as rough as I wanted. We fucked non-stop until Eddie knocked on the door telling me the money was ready.

Optimum job satisfaction reached that day. In the weeks and months that followed, I got to know all the girls.

Mauro Guardino was a very smart man. He kept my dick entertained, kept me hitched to his wagon and his businesses always with the hinted, unspoken promises of more, more, more. And as the years went on I’d taken on more and more to get that more, more, more. Assassinations, clean ups, heists, threats, clever accounting. He appreciated my Ivy League white collar background and used it with certain clients, and I proved my worth over and over again. When the time was right, I told him I wanted to run his whore business.

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