The Beautiful People (16 page)

“You
know them too.”

“I
do?”

“Yeah.
Those are the guys that Grant killed last spring at The Speak.” Now it was my
turn to tense up. I rolled over to look at him, neither one of us was going to
go back to sleep anytime soon.

“Are
you serious?” The bodies on the floor had been nameless until now. Now that I
knew their identities it made the crime so much more real. An involuntary
shudder shook my body. “I didn’t want to know that.”

Dominic hugged me close
and kissed my forehead. “You’re handling all this amazingly well,” he
whispered. I guess he was right. Aside from the occasional nightmares, FBI
surveillance and first - hand knowledge of a triple murder, life was great. I
was in love and made good money, which enabled me to pursue my creative side. 
If I kept my nose out of the mafia’s business I could get used to this life. I
had no other choice. I thought back to Marco’s threat and how menacing the
expression on his face was when gave me the ultimatum. Another shudder shook my
body and Dominic held me tight, his naked body, tan from the summer sun,
contrasted against my fair skin. I could feel the familiar warmth stirring deep
in my core and I pressed even closer. Yeah, I could definitely get used to this
life.

Miranda was barking out
orders like a drill sergeant when Dominic and I arrived a few minutes late for
work. We had spent the entire day in bed and it was difficult to tear ourselves
away. She glared at us and continued her rant. Employees were bustling around
Crimson obeying her every command.

“What’s
going on?” I asked her. Miranda could run a tight ship, but I’d never seen her
on a tear like this. She gave me an exasperated look. “Didn’t Dom tell you?”

“Tell
me what?” Now it was Dominic’s turn to get the look.

“The
five families are coming here tonight!” she hissed.

“The
New York five families?” My eyes grew wide. “Why?”

“There’s
going to be a meeting. The Commission doesn’t like what the Nucci family has
been doing and wants to set them straight.”

“The
meeting is here?”

Miranda gave me another
look.  “No, they’re going to meet at the fucking Holiday Inn. Of course they’re
meeting here.”

“You’re
in VIP tonight Nat, I don’t want Brittany in there interfering. Go set up,” she
ordered.

“Dom,
Dad wants you up there tonight behind the bar as an extra set of ears.”

“I’m
on it.”

We walked to Miranda’s
office and Dom unlocked the door. I set my purse on the desk chair. Since
Dominic and I had gotten serious, I didn’t have to use the employee lounge. We
walked over to the VIP section where Grant was going over the security detail
with some of the boys.

“This
is closed tonight for the private party. If they aren’t with any of the
families, they don’t get access.” Wow, it must be a big deal if they were
closing down VIP.

“Babe,
who all is going to be here?” I asked Dom.

“Dad,
Uncle Marco and Uncle Al, the top members of the five families, they make up
The Commission and top members of the Nucci family.”

“The
Nucci family and the Grabano family under one roof again? This can’t be good,
especially after the big shooting in the Italian Market last week.” I
responded, feeling a little panicky. The Grabanos were out for blood after that
shooting that took out two of our soldiers.

“Don’t
worry, they won’t do anything while the five families are here,” he reassured
me. I was feeling on edge and hoped Dominic was right.

Crimson started to fill
up, except for the VIP section. Several people tried to gain entry, but were
blocked by Anthony, one of the largest bouncers on staff. I heard he tried out
for the Eagles offensive line. With his bulk, that was easy to believe.

It was close to
midnight when I saw Grant parting the crowds to make way for a group of men who
were following close behind. I recognized the Grabanos and a couple of the
Nucci boys so it was easy to pick out the New York contingency. They carried
themselves with an air of superiority. All wore expensive, well tailored suits.
The men ranged in age from early forties to late seventies, one of whom looked
more dead than alive.

They all filed into VIP
and I went to work collecting drink orders. At first everyone stood around
chatting amicably. After a few drinks everyone sat down and the meeting began.
I hung back in the corner and only went to the table when I was gestured to.
Dominic barely paid attention to the drinks he was mixing as he was focusing on
the conversation at the table. It was rather genius, actually, because the
music was so loud that they didn’t have to worry about being overheard outside
of the section. There were a few moments when the conversation heated up and
hands slammed down on the table. Overall everyone seemed to behave themselves
and treated the New York families like they were gods.

One of the Nucci boys
waved me over to the table. I stood next to him prepared to take his drink
order. His cheeks were rosy and his eyes glassy from the alcohol. Too bad I
wasn’t allowed to cut this group off, because they needed it. “Hey, you’re that
girl,” he slurred.

“Excuse
me?”

“Yeah,
you’re the ballsy little lady that broke up the fight a month or so ago.”

A couple members of the
five families were suddenly listening. Marco was quick to jump in and
capitalize on the attention.

“Natalie
and my daughter, Miranda, waltzed in between my boys and Rocco’s boys. It was
right here in fact. Nat got us to cool off before we did anything stupid. It
was Miranda’s idea, but Nat pulled it off,” Marco gloated.

One of the men in the
New York group kept staring at me and it made me anxious. He sat away from the
others, on the end of the booth, as if uncomfortable with close contact. His
gray hair was slicked back and his skin, even the whites of his eyes, was
yellowish, probably from the chain smoking. I had observed that the entire
night he always had a lit cigarette in his right hand. The man leaned over and
whispered in Marco’s ear. Marco’s expression changed from slightly arrogant to
vacant. This made me uneasy. He looked at me and his eyes were cold.

“Natalie,
Mr. Genovese would like for you to sit with him.” I could tell from his tone
that this wasn’t a request. I looked around uncertainly. Marco’s face grew
darker the longer I hesitated. Fearing the consequences if I disobeyed, I sat
down next to Mr. Genovese and clung to the very edge of the booth, trying to
keep our bodies from touching. He reached up and tucked my hair behind my ear,
his hand lingering on my chin. The burnt tobacco smell from his fingertips
stung my nose and made me want to gag. Who was this man and what gave him the
right to touch me? I attempted to inch further away. Mr. Genovese grabbed my
wrist and yanked me closer to him. I resisted and he yanked harder.

“Ow!
Let go of me!” I yelled and looked to Dominic for help. He was raging and I
thought he was going to bust a vein, but he didn’t come to my aid.

“Natalie,
Mr. Genovese is interested in your company this evening. Behave.” Another
order.

“She
is a feisty one isn’t she?” Mr. Genovese wheezed approvingly. His hand moved up
my thigh and under my skirt. I flinched. Dom’s dad, Rico, and Uncle Al wouldn’t
meet my eyes. I saw Rico’s jaw clench. Still, no one would stand up to Mr. Genovese.
Miranda breezed up the VIP stairs and froze when she saw me sitting in the
booth. Fear registered on her face, only briefly and then she composed herself
and walked to her father.

“Miranda,
glad you’re here. Natalie won’t be working the rest of the night. Send Brittany
up here to replace her
.” I wasn’t working the rest of the night? Was I going
to be stuck here next to this awful man?

“Right
away Dad.” Miranda radioed down to the main floor.

Grant escorted Brittany
up and she happily bounced into action. Her pupils were dilated, leaving no
doubt she was high as a kite. I could see the fury in Grant’s eyes, but it
wasn’t for me. Mr. Genovese seemed amused at the anger being directed towards
him. He reached up and caressed my cheek. I cringed, repelled by his clammy,
smoky skin. I thought Grant was going to bust a vein too, but he stayed frozen
in place.
What was wrong with him?
Of all people, Grant was the one I
could count on to kick some ass and get me out of this situation. Instead he
stood by, letting this nasty old man rub his smelly hands all over me.

Brittany entertained
the group with her hyper antics and her incredible, overly enhanced boobs
captivated the attention of most of the men at the booth, all except Mr. Genovese.
He was insistent on exploring my body. I clenched my thighs together in a death
grip, blocking his probes. Just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, he leaned
in close and sniffed my hair, inhaling deeply. Brittany kept throwing
sympathetic glances my way. Every time I tried to move, Mr. Genovese pulled me
back. He would laugh as if he liked my resistance.

When I realized that I
wasn’t going to be allowed to leave Mr. Genovese’s side, I waved for Brittany.
She didn’t bounce over, instead she approached with trepidation.

“I
want a Stoli and Tonic…and keep them coming.” I was going to get so drunk that
I didn’t remember tonight. I needed to be numb. After I placed the order I
glanced over at Dominic again. The rage was still there but he also looked sad.

“I’m
sorry,” he mouthed and hung his head as if defeated, the fight had deserted
him.

With each drink I
became more removed from the situation. The voices and faces blurred around me.
By the time I was on my sixth round, I couldn’t feel my legs, which was perfect
because then I couldn’t feel Mr. Genovese touching them.

I vaguely remember
getting up as the group prepared to leave. I started to walk away, but was
pulled back.

“You’re
coming with me.” Mr. Genovese commanded. Narrowing my eyes, I tried to
concentrate what he was saying. It sounded like he was speaking underwater. The
room spun and I teetered to the left, unsteady on my black leather heels. Mr. Genovese
had a vice like grip on my upper arm and prevented my fall. For a man with
small stature, he was deceptively strong. We walked by the bar and I reached my
free arm out towards Dominic. His eyes were a dark, mossy green and full of
desperation. He started to come around to the front of the bar towards me.  

“Do
not interfere,” Marco warned him. Dom stopped and I was yanked along with the
rest of the group and taken out the back exit. Right before I left Crimson I
looked up and saw Grant being held back by Anthony “The Giant” and Miranda
stood in front with her hand pressed against Grant’s chest. Anthony seemed to
have a hard time holding my brother back. Grant looked like he was ready to
kill.

A black Cadillac sat
idling in the lot behind Crimson. A driver opened the door and Mr. Genovese
forced me in the back seat. The group dispersed to other cars in the lot. Like
a funeral procession, the dark sedans moved in a line down Columbus Blvd. At
some point along the way I passed out. Mr. Genovese shook me awake and roughly
pulled me out of the car. We were in front of The Speak. I hadn’t been here
since that fateful night. Visions of bodies lying in pools of blood filled my
head. I closed my eyes and was instantly dizzy. Mr. Genovese grabbed my arm
again and started leading me to the front door.

I balked and stood my
ground. “I am not going in there.”

Without warning or
hesitation, Mr. Genovese backhanded me. My head snapped and I rocked backwards
on my feet, grabbing onto the railing for support. Stunned, I rubbed my stinging
cheek and glared at the older man. Adrenaline was coursing through my veins and
I felt more alert, more sober. Reflexively, I slapped him back. He grinned, a
crazy, unsettling grin.

“I
do like the feisty ones,” he commented as he looked me over. I was suddenly
self-conscious of my revealing outfit. The unspoken rule at Crimson was that
the sexier you dressed, the more tips you received. Dominic understood and
enjoyed watching me pour my body into tight outfits. Tonight I had chosen a ridiculously
short black skirt with a black leather corset top. The corset enhanced my
average breasts, which helped me to compete with the cosmetically enhanced ones
of my co-workers. Black pantyhose and high black heels completed the ensemble
and made my legs look endless. I considered my legs my best feature, the
running I did helped to keep them sculpted and muscular.  Now, I wished I had
chosen a nun’s habit to wear instead. 

Marco, Rico and Al
walked up the sidewalk and stood behind me. The rest of the men from New York arrived
seconds later and I was surprised to see Brittany with them. None of the Nuccis
had joined the party.

“Stop
being difficult Natalie,” Marco demanded. “Get inside.” The menacing expression
on his face made my skin cold. Defeated, I followed Marco up the stairs and
into the house.

We moved past Sam, the
doorman, and into the bar area. The bartender was extra attentive when he saw
who had entered the room. He hustled around accommodating the men from New
York, especially Mr. Genovese. I had surmised that Mr. Genovese was the boss of
NYC. Why else would everyone dance around at his beck and call? Mr. All Powerful
kept a firm grip on my wrist, forcing me to stay by his side. My buzz was
wearing off and the numbness subsiding. I ordered more drinks, determined to
block as much of this night from my memory. Brittany pulled out a vial of
cocaine and sorted out lines on the bar counter. She was surprised when I took
the rolled up twenty dollar bill out of her hand and snorted a line up each
nostril. I tilted my head back, pure bitterness sliding down the back of my
throat. The effects were felt almost instantly. My heart sped up and my pulse
was audible. A sip of the vodka tonic washed the rest of the bitterness down.
The numbness was almost complete.

After the cocaine was
brought out, the party really started to get out of hand. Everyone was wasted.
Brittany started to do a strip tease and I had to look away. The sexual tension
of eight men in one room and only two women was tangible. Despite all of the alcohol
and the coke, my nerves were on edge.

Mr. Genovese – Luigi to
his friends – started to get a little too friendly. I tried to shrug him off
and he got more aggressive. I stepped away and broke free of his grasp.

“I
need to use the bathroom,” I grumbled. The bathroom was off of the hallway.
When I turned into the hall I half expected the bodies to be there with blood
oozing from broken skulls, but no evidence of the crime was visible. I was too
caught up in my memory that I didn’t notice Uncle Marco following me out of the
bar. Grabbing me from behind, he spun me around, pinning me against the wall
with his hand on my throat. I gasped for air and struggled against his grip.