Beware the Snake Page 5

  “Snake, of course. You know, me and the other guys refer to you as the ‘charity case,’ so you can understand my confusion.”

  “Sure,” I say, forcing out a laugh. “You know, Jess and I have something exciting in the works. I think you’ll be very pleased.”

  “That’s good to hear. We need Monty’s crew to turn things around.” Franco turns towards his other guests, letting us know he’s done with us. “You two have fun tonight,” he says.

  Jess stares at me as we elbow our way back to the lobby. That’s not the light I wanted her to see me in, with my own boss struggling to remember my name. That will all change soon.

  Jess and I keep getting separated in the crowd. I reach back and grab on to her hand. At first, she flinches, then her fingers relax under my grip. I jerk my head over to the bar, where Monty’s already started on the tequila shots.

  Jess freezes, making me stop. I look back and see her staring at Monty. Her teeth are clenched, her narrowed eyes focused on him. I give her hand a squeeze.

  “Now’s not the time to chicken out,” I say.

  She jerks her gaze to me. “I’m not chickening out. Let’s do this.”

  While walking over there, I hope this conversation goes better than the one with Franco. I have a lot of face to save.

  “Happy birthday, capo,” I say, patting Monty heartily on the back.

  He turns to me with a huge smile. His face is red, and he’s sweating, a combination of a crowded room and liquor.

  “Snake,” Monty yells, drawing out my name, and holding his hands out. “Thank you for being here today. Would you like a shot?” He picks up the bottle sitting in front of him. “Gran Patron Burdeos, the only liquor worth drinking.”

  Even though Franco told me to have fun, I don’t feel comfortable drinking from a four hundred dollar bottle of tequila until I start bringing cash in.

  “I’m good,” I say, holding up my hand.

  Monty looks over at Jess. “A shot for the lady?”

  Jess doesn’t say anything. She stares straight at Monty, but it looks like she’s worlds away. I step in to keep her from ruining things.

  “I’d like to introduce you to Jess Hunt,” I say. “Hopefully, a new business associate of the crew.”

  Monty eyes her, his gaze settling directly onto her chest. “Uh-huh. I’m aware of Ms. Hunt. Salvatore told me all about your little scheme.” He grabs my shirt with his meaty fist, and pulls me close to him. “Well done. I always knew you were a smart kid. Now go get a drink.”

  I wish him a happy birthday again, then grab Jess and walk away.

  “Is that it?” she asks, nervously.

  I give her a confident smile. “That’s it. I told you he’d be in a good mood.”

  I find an empty table near the wine cellar, and tell Jess to have a seat. I glide over to the bar feeling like a new man. My money problems are all but over. All I have to do now is rise up the ranks. Charity case, my ass.

  I recognize the guy behind the bar. It’s Matt Walker. We grew up at the boy’s home together. He wears a crisp white shirt and black slacks. He looks better than I’ve seen him in a long time. He must’ve gotten himself cleaned up, though I’m sure under those long sleeves, there’s still ugly red track marks on the inside of his arm.

  “Yo, Matt,” I say, reaching across the bar to shake his head. “You look good, man. How are you?”

  Matt throws a towel over his shoulder, and plants his hands on the bar. “I am good. I’m working here now. Hours are shit, but the tips aren’t bad.”

  “Look at you, all cleaned up and with a legitimate job. I’m glad to see you here, instead of running low level jobs for the Lombardi’s. What did I tell you about them? They give you all the risk, and hardly any pay.”

  Matt nods, laughing. “They kept me flush with smack, but all that’s behind me now.”

  “That’s great,” I say, hoping he means it this time.

  I return to Jess with our drinks, champagne for me, sparkling apple cider for her. She shakes her head as I hand it to her.

  “Relax,” I say, sitting beside her. “It’s juice with bubbles.”

  She smiles, if only for a second, and accepts the drink. I clink my glass against hers.

  “Now it’s really official,” I say.

  Jess, who’s staring at my champagne with envy, blinks rapidly. “Good.”

  We spend a few moments in silence. I watch Jess discreetly. Shit, she’s beautiful. Ever since I met her, she makes other women look like bland pieces of cardboard. And even though she gets on my nerves sometimes, I like that biting attitude of hers.

  I don’t want to be just business partners, I want to be more. But my usual methods haven’t worked so far. I’ll admit, I’m a little out of my wheelhouse here. In the past, all I’ve had to do is flash a charming smile, and panties are hitting the ground. I take another sip of champagne, deciding to put my cock away for now.

  “So, tell me about yourself,” I say.

  Jess squints, like I just said the sky is orange. “What?”

  I look up, pleading with whatever god may be watching. “I want to know about you. Where are from? Where did you go to school? What do you like to do?”

  Jess blinks, considering the questions like it’s an algebra problem. “Santa Barbara. Stanford. Work.”

  “Jesus, I’m trying to have a conversation here. Why make it so hard?”

  “Sorry. I’m used to you trying to slip your hands down my pants.”

  I take a drink, swallowing the smart ass comment on my tongue. “You’re right. Please excuse my ungentlemanly behavior. I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

  Jess’ bottom lip pokes out. It’s a quick, unconsciousness movement. I like to think she’s disappointed in hearing I won’t put a move on her, which encourages me.

  “We’re business associates now,” I continue. “I’ve got nothing but respect for you. We’re equals.”

  Jess raises her eyebrows, her eyes glimmering. “Equals?” she says in a hopeful voice.

  I turn towards her, thinking I’m feeling her icy exterior melt just a bit. Maybe the nice routine is working.

  “To tell you the truth,” I start, humbling myself. “You saved my ass. The Mariano’s have fallen on hard times lately. If I don’t turn things around soon, I’ll be sleeping with the fishes, as they say.”

  I laugh. Jess doesn’t.

  “Is that a joke?” she asks.

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t seem so sure.”

  I raise my hands looking up at the ceiling. “It’s a fucking joke. You know, haha, laughing. Do you do that on Ice Queen Planet?”

  At this, Jess laughs. Her shoulders relax. She looks at me, and finally, doesn’t look like she’s a thousand miles away.

  “Would you call me an Ice Queen if I was a man? Or would you call me assertive, determined, strong?”

  I take a minute to think about this. “If you were man, I’d advise you to get your dick sucked. Relax a little.”

  She rolls her eyes, but she’s still smiling. “So, it’s back to sex?”

  I notice a change in her body language. It’s softer. Her shoulders are squared towards me. I sense my chance. She looks surprised when I take her hand, and kiss her knuckles.

  “It’s not just sex I’m after,” I say.

  I feel a rush of adrenaline. I can’t believe I just said that. But Jess doesn’t cower away. She looks up into my eyes. There’s a warmth in my chest, and somehow, I know she feels it too. I start to lean in to kiss her, when Jess suddenly stands up, saying she has to go to the restroom.

  She yanks her hand away from mine, then walks quickly towards the restroom. I reach my arms back, like I’m stretching, trying to play it off. When she’s gone, and I realize no one’s looking, I tip back the champagne, draining it in one gulp.

  What happened? Why did she leave? I could’ve sworn there was something between us, a connection. Why is she resisting? I sit there alone for a few more minutes, ste
wing. The nice guy approach didn’t work. I’ll have to be more assertive.

  I straighten my tie, then head to the hallway where the restrooms are located, and watch the door to the women’s room. As soon as Jess comes out, I’m going to grab her and kiss her. I’m going to make her confront what’s between us. I hold my hands in tight fists, pumping myself up for what I have to do.

  What the hell is taking her so long? I watch women go inside, then come out a few minutes after. Anxiety creeps up my spine. Did Jess ditch me? I watch another group of women enter, and then exit. I’m reasonably certain that the restroom is empty, so I storm in there.

  “Jess,” I yell. There’s no answer. I check every stall. They’re all empty. Glancing around, I try to figure out how she could have escaped. The only option is the window, but it’s high up on the wall and to narrow to squeeze through.

  I shoulder past a confused elderly woman as I exit the restroom. I look for Jess everywhere, at every table, in every room.

  “Fucking bitch called a cab,” I grumble under my breath. She’d gotten what she wanted, which was to meet Monty and seal the deal, and she left me in the lurch. I’m about to go to the bar to drown my sorrow, when I realize there’s one place I haven’t looked, the kitchen. It’s a long shot, but I have to try.

  I follow a waiter and slip into the kitchen behind him. It’s a madhouse in here. There are about a dozen cooks all prepping for dinner. At one table, they peel a mountain of shrimp. At another, a latino man is mincing garlic like a ninja. Of course, Jess is nowhere to be found. I’m about to leave, when a waiter enters through a door in the back. When the door swings open, I see it’s a small room stacked high with boxes. Before the door closes I catch a glimpse of something emerald green hidden in a dark corner, almost obscured by a rack of shelves.

  That’s Jess’ blouse. What’s she doing in there? I run hot with jealousy. Immediately, I assume she’s found another guy to hook up with in that dark room. The cooks are too busy to notice as I walk through the kitchen to that door. It hasn’t closed all the way, so I’m able to peek through the crack. I want to catch her with whoever he is, so I can break his nose. Everyone at the party saw me walk in with her. It’s against the Mariano code of honor to take a made man’s woman.

  Jess is still in the same place, standing with her back flush against the wall. Her dark clothing is barely visible in the dimly lit room. From what I can see, she’s alone. She looks around, then walks over to table, where a bottle of liquor is being chilled in a tub of ice. Her movements are frantic as she reaches into her purse, and pulls out something small. She opens the liquor bottle, pours something inside of it, then quickly screws the cap back on.

  “What the fuck?” I mutter.

  I find a large oven full of baking bread and duck behind it. Sure enough, Jess exits the room, then quickly walks out of the kitchen without being noticed.

  My stomach sinks. What the hell is she up to?

  When she’s gone, I slip into the room, and head straight for that liquor bottle. There’s a notecard lying next to the tub of ice, with Reserved For Monty Mariano: Serve with dinner scrawled across.

  “Shit.”

  I immediately start to sweat. Who is she? Who have I brought into the family? I grab the tequila bottle by the neck, and pull it soaking wet out of the ice. There’s a utility sink here. I unscrew the top, and pour the entire contents down the sink. I stash the empty bottle at the bottom of a trash can, and get the hell out of there.

  I go to the bathroom and splash cold water on my face. I can barely look at myself in the mirror. It was my job to vet Jess, and I failed. Was I that desperate for cash, that I’d let a traitor into the inner circle of the family? Finally, I bring my gaze to my reflection in the mirror.

  “Get your shit together,” I tell myself.

  Outside in the lobby, I skirt around the edges of the crowd. I spot Jess at our table. She’s looking around, probably wondering where I went. I finger the gun strapped to my hip. I should take it out, and shoot her right now. But that would bring up too many questions. The boss might think that I was in on her scheme, then both of us would be dead.

  A waiter carrying a tray of champagne approaches Jess. I think she’ll wave him away, but instead, she accepts a glass with a friendly smile. She takes a sip, closing her eyes with pleasure.

  “You bitch,” I grumble. “Who the fuck are you?”

  Someone clinks a knife against a glass, and the restaurant goes silent. Franco stands at the center of the lobby with Monty next to him.

  “I want to thank everyone for coming out and celebrating my dear nephew,” Franco says. “You don’t look a day over sixty-five.”

  “I’m sixty,” Monty yells, drunkenly. The crows erupts in laughter.

  “Now,” Franco continues. “Please join us in the dining room. Dinner is served.”

  There’s a long table with enough chairs for everyone set up in the dining room. Jess blinks around the room, unsure what to do. I keep my eyes on her as I approach her.

  “There you are,” she says when she sees me.

  I hold out my arm. “Shall we?”

  We find our place at the table. I’m staring at Jess, hard, but she barely notices. She’s watching Monty at the head of the table. Waiters swarm around the table, refilling drinks and taking orders. When one approaches Monty with a fresh glass of tequila, Jess straightens up in her seat. Her eyes are wide as Monty takes a sip. The capo’s face scrunches, and he stares crosseyed into his glass.

  “Hey,” Monty yells after the waiter. “What is this swill? It’s not my Patron.”

  While the waiter runs over apologizing, I watch Jess sink into her seat. Her face turns ghost white. I nudge her with my elbow.

  “Having fun?” I ask.

  “What?” she asks, blinking. “Uh-huh.”

  Chapter Ten

  Jess

  The party is merry. The mobsters and their families talk jovially while the waiters keep the alcohol flowing, and fill the table with mountains of food. The world is spinning around me, but I’m still.

  I feel like a zombie. I nibble on a piece of arugula to make it look like I’m eating. And Monty, that red-faced, drunken asshole, is having the time of his life. People fawn all over him, catering to his every whim, and he laps it up greedily. He should be writhing on the ground, foaming at the mouth by now.

  I take sip of water, biting back the taste of champagne on my tongue. It was a moment of weakness. I thought my plan was finally coming to fruition, but I’d celebrated prematurely.

  Snake is uncharacteristically quiet beside me. That can’t be good. What does he know? Or maybe he’s just pissed that I blew him off earlier. Still, I can’t be sure. I glance around the table, guessing at the amount of guns and ammo that’s currently in this room. If any of these guys knew what I tried to pull off, they’d shower me with bullets. That would be all well and good if the plan had actually worked.

  We finish dinner, followed by cake, and the party starts to die down. I stick with Snake, quiet and out of sight, but close by, as he says his goodbyes. I don’t know why, but I feel better when I’m close to him, safer, like he would protect me. I realize this is a fallacy of course. He’s one of them.

  When we get in the car, Snake’s still quiet. I try to avoid looking at him, but I can feel his energy, stiff and bitter. It practically fills the silent car. His ego is bruised, I tell myself. He’s finally realized it’s not going to happen between us.

  Or, he saw what I did.

  I puzzle over what could’ve happened. Someone got rid of the tequila, which means they saw what I did. I press my fingernails into my palm, silently cursing myself. I hadn’t planned on killing Monty tonight, though I hadn’t ruled it out either. The party just seemed like the perfect cover, with lots of people coming and going. I’d been sure no one had seen me poison the tequila. Still, I was too rash. I should’ve planned better. But I was seduced by the idea that this could all be over tonight, and I wouldn’t hav
e to get in any deeper with the mob.

  Was it Snake? I look at him discreetly. Anyone else would’ve killed me immediately.

  I turn my attention back to the road when Snake pulls into a gas station. It looks like it’s closed. It’s dark here, and no one’s around. I wonder if it’s even open for business in the first place. My heart starts to pound.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “I need gas.”

  I glimpse at the gas needle before Snake cuts the car off. The tank is three-quarters full. Snake gets out of the car. I watch through the windshield, terrified as he crosses over to my side. Instinctively, I try to open the car door, but it’s locked. Snake opens the door, and bends down over me. I’ve never seen his face like this. It’s cold, and creepily professional. In an instant, I understand what’s happening. Snake saw me. He couldn’t say or do anything at the party because he didn’t want to implicate himself. He’s going to kill me now, nice and quiet.

  “Get out. Stretch your legs.” Snake’s voice is commanding. It reverberates deep inside of my belly.

  I’m so terrified, I can’t speak. My limbs are stiff like petrified wood. All I can do is shake my head.

  “Get out,” Snake snarls through his teeth.

  I blink up at him, unmoving. Snake laughs, a chilling, cutting sound. Then, his arm darts into to the car. I feel his steel like grip around my upper arm, so tight I’m sure it will leave a bruise. He yanks me out, then spins me around, presses me against the car, and pins my hands to roof.

  “Who are you?” he says, hot against my ear.

  I’m trembling badly. My legs are turning to jello beneath me. I have to rely on Snake’s body pressed against me to stay upright. I can’t think of anything better than to play dumb.

  “Snake, what are you doing?” The terror in my voice is real, making it even more authentic. “You know who I am.”

  I try to turn around, but he pushes against my upper back, slamming me back into the car.

  “Don’t move,” he warns.

  I rest my forehead against the car. My hurried breaths are amplified against the metal exterior. They echo in my head. I can barely think straight. Snake sticks his hand down my skirt, takes out my revolver and shoves it in his pocket. He lays his hands on me, broad and intrusive, as he pats down my arms, my waist, and up each of my legs. His hands are icy when he reaches my inner thigh, intensifying my trembling.