Obsessed with His Bride

“Why are we here?” she asked.

“This is where we’re meeting,” I said.

“Yeah, but why here?” She looked around and her frown got deeper. “Lots of tourists.”

“That’s exactly the point,” I said. “Neutral territory. The Leone Family doesn’t own this territory and neither do the Russians. Right now, I don’t think anyone runs these streets. The gangs control further up north, which means Fairmount is a sort of neutral buffer zone between the crime families and the gangs.”

“Huh,” Aida said. “I never knew that. I’ve lived here my whole life and I never even noticed that.”

“Easy to miss unless you’re in the world,” I said. “Now come on. Let’s not keep our friend waiting.”

Steven took point and we followed just behind him. The morning was crisp and cool with a bright sun and only a slight breeze. Fairmount was an up-and-coming neighborhood with some little corner mom and pop stores, some fancy hipster bars, and a few ubiquitous Italian pizza places. Tourists wandered from the Penitentiary, which was an enormous stone prison that closed years ago and got mostly used for tours, down to the Art Museum which was only a few blocks away.

The trees were nice though looked like they were young and recently planted, and there was construction going on in most of the buildings. The neighborhoods north and south of Fairmount were mostly families, and the streets were quiet, clean, and safe. If it weren’t so far from all the action of the main center city and beyond, I could see myself living in Fairmount and being happy there.

Steven took us to a placed called Bishop’s Collar, a bar that was painted black all around the outside, with a black door and black window frames. He lingered for a moment by the front door then knocked a few times.

A young guy with a goatee answered and looked around. “Just you guys?” he asked.

“Just us, Mikey,” Steven said. “Open up.”

The young guy, Mikey, nodded. He was wearing a black chef’s outfit with the wide loose pants and button-down shirt. All he needed was the classic chef’s hat, but that was missing from the ensemble.

“Is he here yet?” I asked.

Mikey nodded. “Sitting at the bar. He came early.”

“Smart guy,” I said. “You mind bringing out something to eat?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” Mikey looked nervous, shifting from foot to foot. “Hey, Dante, you sure this is okay? No trouble, right? I heard things are going down and I’m just a little nervous, you know? This is a good job, I don’t want to lose it.”

I patted him on the shoulder and took a right. There was a small flight of stairs that descended into the bar area. Sitting on a stool in the very center was a short guy with light brown skin, dark black hair, and brown eyes. He wore jeans and a button-down black shirt. He stood and inclined his head as I approached him with Aida just behind me.

“Gerardo,” I said.

“Hello, Dante.” He had a thin face and a wiry build, and I could see tattoos on his wrists and hands, though none were visible on his neck or face. “Nice place you got here.”

“Not mine,” I said. “But the chef is a friend, so he hooks me up. Come on, sit down. You want a drink?”

“Nah, I’m good. Maybe coffee if they got it.”

I gestured to Aida and she stepped forward. I noticed Gerardo’s eyes moved down her body and an appreciative smile came to his lips.

“This is Aida,” I said. “She’s mine. She’ll be listening in. And you know Steven.”

Gerardo pulled his gaze from Aida and nodded to Steven. “What’s up, man?”

“Hey, Gerardo. Thanks for coming.”

“Well, when the biggest, baddest Capo in the Leone Family comes calling, I gotta pick up.” Gerardo sat down and I went behind the bar. I found the coffee machine, took a second to figure out how it worked, and found some ground coffee in a drawer underneath the bar. I got it brewing a minute later.

“I hope you know we’ve been very appreciative of your assistance lately,” I said to Gerardo. Aida sat at the bar a few stools down from Gerardo, leaning forward and showing off even more of her breasts. I couldn’t help but smirk a bit as Gerardo kept sneaking glances in her direction. Steven sat at a table behind Gerardo, and I thought I saw him playing with something in his waistband, probably his Glock.

“Anything, anything, man,” Gerardo said. “We don’t like war, war’s expensive and what’s the point of killing if all it does is bring down heat, right? We want peace on the streets, especially now that we’re moving into this territory.”

“I’m not sure your bosses see it that way,” I said, still on the other side of the bar. Mikey came out a moment later with a platter of bacon, eggs, pancakes, and waffles. He placed it down and nodded at me then hurried into the back.