Authors: J. Fields Jr.
Max pointed at the wardrobe bag.
“It might come in handy again someday.
I gave the hat back to Sonny and asked if he could get it to
Shannon
.
A little good-bye present.”
“That was very thoughtful.
Are you off to Vegas?”
“I have Trixie for a month.
We’re going to take a little vacation.”
Antonio was surprised.
“What is your destination?
I could recommend a nice hotel.”
“She lives with her mom in
Maryland
.
I was thinking of going there, maybe buying a house nearby.”
He put his hands into his pockets, thinking.
“Maybe take a break from cards, too.”
“I have a contact at the Hotel Monaco in
Baltimore
if you need temporary accommodations.”
Antonio said, “I think this is a splendid idea, Max.
I must say I’m proud of you.”
Max grinned.
“Time to take a few chances on real-life stuff.”
“I am always at your service, if you should need anything.”
Antonio extended his hand.
Max stared at the hand.
“I’m more of a hugger.”
Antonio smiled as Max Allen embraced him warmly and thumped him loudly on the back.
Trixie joined them both, “Group hug!
Come on Mark!”
“No way,” said Mark.
“I know for a fact we’re being taped right now.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“Well,” said Mark.
“We survived another weekend.”
As Max Allen’s limousine pulled away, with Trixie waving from the open rear window, Antonio lifted his jacket lapel and smelled his carnation.
“There are many more to come.”
“Let’s go get a drink, I’m buying.”
Antonio checked his watch.
“Unfortunately I have an appointment.”
“At this time of night?”
Mark stared at him suspiciously.
“You have a date!”
“It involves a business matter.”
A town car pulled to a stop and the driver exited the vehicle leaving the motor running.
He jogged up to Antonio.
“All yours.
When you bring it back just make sure it’s parked over by the limo bays.”
“Thank you,” said Antonio, and handed the man a folded bill.
Mark said, “I’m going to have you followed.”
“I’m taking Sunday off,” said Antonio.
“Will I see you Monday?”
“Stop avoiding the subject.”
“Haven’t we solved enough mysteries this weekend?”
Antonio smiled and opened the driver’s side door.
“Have a good evening, Mark.”
“You’re just gonna leave me, after all we’ve been through?”
The town car pulled away smoothly from the curb and around the curve leading towards the casino exit route, headlights illuminating the landscaping.
Mark turned to the driver.
“Do you guys have GPS tracking devices in those things?”
“We sure do,” said the driver.
“But not in
that
one.
That car’s just used for local trips.”
Mark frowned.
“Did Antonio ask for that one specifically, or was it just an accident?”
The driver checked the tip he’d been given, slid it into his pocket, and said, “Does Antonio ever do anything by accident?”
“Good point.”
Mark loosened up his tie.
“I’m going to have a drink.
Hey, did you hear about how Antonio got those fancy shoes he’s wearing?”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Twenty minutes later, Antonio drove through the open gates of a complex and bore left, around a small grove of Redbud trees.
He much preferred them in the spring and summer months.
The grounds were well maintained and the roadways clear.
Each of the condos in the exclusive complex had attached garages, all buttoned down against the chilly night air.
Visitor spaces were located to the right of each stairwell that led up to private porches, all with indistinguishable paint schemes, sconce lighting, brass mailboxes and door mats.
This condominium committee had strict guidelines as to external presentation.
Antonio parked the town car and used the key fob to engage the electronic locks.
The night was clear and cool, and the moon was very nearly full, with just a hint of shadow from an artist’s charcoaled fingertip.
Each star appeared to be its very own shade of gold.
He thought that at this moment he might agree with Van Gogh, in that the night is more alive and richly colored than the day.
He did not take his lyrical musings as a good sign.
He had once read that before death the rational mind turns to whimsical interludes to distract the body from the pain of the present.
Ascending the stairs, checking his watch to ensure he was neither too early nor late, he did not bother to use the doorbell or brass door knocker, as he was strictly instructed.
He found the door unlocked.
The aroma in the condo was one of radiator heat, leather upholstery and alcohol.
The overhead lighting was not oppressive but neither was it flattering to the color of the walls.
Furniture was aligned neatly, with no decorative pillows, stray magazines or any real evidence of use.
There was a screened fireplace with a painting upright on the mantel; a collage that he knew as the work of a local artist.
The artwork was meant to bring color and interest to the room, and Antonio was not convinced that it had accomplished its goal.
Standing in the arched entryway to the dining room area, holding a bottle and a crystal flute, was Liz Fiore, the Executive Assistant to the President.
“
Champagne
?”
She asked.
“Are we celebrating?”
“I will be in a moment,” she said.
Young for her position and rank in the casino, her looks deceptively attractive, her demeanor was one of a high-powered confidence that quickly veiled her physical attributes by sheer force of authority.
Antonio felt that her most disquieting quality was her habit of looking nowhere but your eyes while she spoke, and when the situation required, ignoring you entirely as soon as you deemed to respond.
At this moment, her eyes had not wavered.
“Come and sit at the table,” she said.
“A formal business discussion always seems ridiculous in comfortable chairs.”
Antonio entered the dining room area, unbuttoned his tuxedo jacket and sat down.
He withdrew a folded sheath of papers from his jacket.
“Here is my statement of the events of the weekend.
I’ve added my signature to the last page.
Would you like me to summarize?”
She reached over and slid the paper to her side of the table.
“Maybe later, when I’m bored and need a good laugh.
Let’s just talk for a moment.”
“Very well.
Where would you like to begin?”
“Let’s start with you trying to feed Chinese food to the fucking shark.”
“That was an unfortunate combination of assumption and accident.”
“The shark is dead,” she saluted that statement with her champagne and took a sip.
“You had it euthanized?”
“No, you killed it.”
Antonio was somewhat stunned.
“The gills are a sensitive zone for sharks, which is why I chose that location to ward off the attack.
But the impact of the penlight, surely, didn’t…”
“It ate your BlackBerry.
Ruptured an intestine.”
She poured herself another flute of champagne.
“And the Kamikaze Cam, a popular if disgusting member of the press, was threatened, endangered and finally bribed by yourself and has thus disappeared to parts unknown.”
Antonio didn’t know what to say to that.
“Anything in this fictional short story,” she asked, poking the folded statement with a fingernail, “about
Brandon
trying to shoot you?”
“There was only a very brief moment where he may have intended to shoot me.”
“Mmm.
Mind if I smoke?”
She had a cigarette case on the table.
Antonio took a lighter from his pocket.
He leaned over, as did Liz Fiore, and touched flame to tip.
He wouldn’t have been surprised to see the cigarette smoke parting around the nearly tangible edge of her stare.
“Tonight
Brandon
’s show at Twilight brought in nearly a quarter of a million dollars in various revenue streams,” she exhaled a curl of smoke.
“And we didn’t pay anything out to the performer.”
“That is correct.
We reached a mutual understanding.”
“I’ve seen the agreements from both cases.”
She crossed her legs, balancing her champagne glass on her bare knee.
“I spent an hour on Skype with the President.
Based on his reaction to the conclusion of these events, I’ve decided you don’t have to die.”
Antonio nodded.
He pulled out a second piece of paper from his inside jacket pocket.
“This is my typed resignation.
Also signed.”
She didn’t bother to look at the paper on the table.
“Did I say I was firing you?”
“No.”
“Did I say that you were in any kind of trouble, whatsoever?”
“Not recently.”
“Pick that shit up and put it back in your jacket.”
Antonio did so.
“I have a request.”
She coughed into her champagne flute.
Wiped her lips with a finger tip.
“The size of your balls never ceases to amaze me.
Maybe I should’ve gotten them delivered to me after all.
What, pray tell, is your
request?”
“I would like Damien Valentine reprimanded.
If not for his involvement, much of this may not have taken place.”
“Is the information in your little fable here?”
“All is outlined in my statement.”
“I’ll figure out something.”
Liz Fiore stood up.
“That concludes our business.”
Antonio stood as well.
He was always intrigued by Liz’s confidence, not only in business, but in personal matters.
She stood before him as she had been since his arrival at the condo, completely at ease and utterly naked.
The tones and curves of her body did more for the ambience of the room than the collage he’d purchased for her a month ago.