“Her seams are crooked, Benny-boy,” Johnny said, the cigar in between his teeth, gesturing to our server, who was still strutting away.
Ben looked over his shoulder and shook his head, “Standards.”
He pulled his phone out of the inside breast pocket of his suit, dialed, and then barked, “Get Lily straightened up. Her seams are a mess.” He hung up.
“Fete needs to be pristine,” Johnny said.
“Agreed,” Ben reached for the bottle, filled a glass and leaned in, “I got a scene for that. Master flogs his sub for crooked seams. After she takes her punishment, the scene ends with a flash forward to her the following day, purposely pushing those seams askew when he’s ready to inspect.”
“Niiiiice…” Johnny drawled and then looked at me, “This guy. Some got an app for that. Benny’s got a scene for that.”
Ben Goldberg was a perverted fucker, for sure. He looked as straight-laced missionary-style as they came. But he wasn’t. Not by a longshot.
“Leo Denarda called me this morning. Demanded a meeting tonight,” Ben switched gears, looking to me. “Recommended you attend.”
“Recommended?”
“He did. His words. Tell Tommy Ferrano that I recommend he show up.” Ben sipped his drink, “It’s on neutral territory, a nightclub just off the strip. I have half a dozen bouncers who can accompany us and keep the peace.”
“You go. Let me know the gist. He wants a meet with me, he can reach out directly and request that. My response to that request will be a reflection of the way his request comes across.”
It’d also happen only after I had a chance to scout the planned location, or choose it. And bring my own muscle. With a sniper planted, his weapon pointed at Denarda the entire time. Just in case.
Johnny shook his head, “He’ll see that as a sign of disrespect, Tommy. You really wanna poke him like that?”
“Ask how many fucks I give,” I clipped, “That disrespect is not unearned. That slimy little cheap-suited fuck hasn’t earned the time of day from me and if my suspicions are right and he’s fuckin’ with shit back home, he’s gonna feel the opposite of my respect. Right where it hurts.”
“Shit back home?” Ben asked.
I shook my head, “Forget about it for now. I’m still confirming. You take the meet and lemme know the gist.”
The subject got dropped and our meeting went on and we dealt with the things we needed to, final numbers and plans for the launch of Fete. There was PR happening and we’d be having adult industry big-name entertainers flown in for it.
I wasn’t planning on attending the opening night events. They were trying to talk me into it but bringing my pregnant wife into that scene? The alternative of going stag? Probably not a great idea. I told them I’d think about it.
Dare and I didn’t want to be in this business long-term because of some of the people it’d tie us to, but based on associations and the past as well as the façade we were trying to keep up, it was the only thing that made sense for now.
John needed this, he’d taken some financial hits in the past few years. I’d help get it going and then in a year, maybe two, we’d sell our shares back to John and Ben.
I got a ride back to my hotel from one of Ben’s drivers, calling Tia on the way. She answered on the third ring, her voice small.
“Hello?”
“Sleepin’ baby?”
“Mm. It’s okay. How are you?”
“I’m good. On my way back to my room, crashin’ early. Just wanted to see how you’re feeling.”
“I don’t know yet. I guess I’ll find out when I finally get my head off this pillow.”
“You been in bed all day?”
“No. I got up and got stuff done for the party tonight and then I decided to take a nap after I made all the food. Shit. I slept a long time.”
“I’ll call you later then. Sarah still there?”
“Think so. I’m gonna take a shower, girls’ll be here soon. Love you. Call me before you go to sleep?”