“Don’t do it, Crockett. Put your hand on my ass again and I’ll break it.”
“No problem, Nicholas. I just didn’t want you to fall. What makes you think I want to grope your ass?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe just because you do every chance you get?”
“That would be a good reason.” He leaned in closer and whispered, “You have a great ass. I like it.”
“Oh, quit, you idiot.”
“How quickly gratitude fades.”
They took the elevator up to the eighth floor, exited, found Milk Studios, and were shown to the studio space that Pansy’s Frocks would be using by the organizer of the show, Jannelle Robinson. “This is great. So open and airy.” A temporary runway had been constructed down the center of the space. Folding chairs would be lined up on either side, and a red carpet would be laid over the bare wood. A backstage area for models, makeup, hair, and clothing changes behind a dark red curtain had been sectioned off. “This can really work. I was a little worried about moving my show down here instead of Lincoln Center. I think I would have just been lost in the crowd there. This is much better.”
“Would you like us to help you put together a video and a look book? We can get right on it and have something ready by Fashion Week. I really like the cool perspective of your clothes, and your interesting silhouettes and layering concepts.”
“Well, thank you, Jannelle. I’ll call you later to discuss costs for a project like that. I’m not sure it’s in my budget, given all the additional expenses involved in Fashion Week, but I would love to be able to work it in.” Billie could see that Pansy was excited by the idea but apprehensive about the added expense. Given her shoestring studio space, he could understand that.
* * * *
West Thirty-Eighth Street and Seventh Avenue, in the Garment District, New York City, New York, Monday noon, January 4, 2016
Pansy, Billie and Melodie took another taxi uptown, and their next stop was the Garment District and the factory on Seventh Avenue and West Thirty-Eighth Street where Pansy’s sketches and patterns were being made into actual sewn garments instead of hastily basted samples. Pansy could hear Billie’s stomach growling, and he was gazing longingly at the hot dog cart at the corner. She hoped this stop didn’t take too long because she didn’t need a hungry and cranky Billie as well as an amorous one.
The space occupied by M&C Fabricators and Apparel Production, Inc. looked like the loft in Tribeca where Logan had his apartment and the band’s rehearsal and recording space. The band’s huge, open loft was comprised of the entire fourth floor in a turn-of-the-century shoe factory building, and Pansy had found the old building fascinating. The M&C factory was filled with huge cutting tables and fabric saws as well as whirring industrial sewing machines. It was bustling with men moving racks of finished clothes and dollies loaded with cut pattern pieces from place to place. Fabric lay in neat piles, ready for the construction of garments.
Pansy met with the factory owner, Louis Capriccio, and looked over the finished garments. She was checking for quality of the stitching, neatness and flatness of the seams, and the way they hung on the hangers. So far, so good.
“It looks like we’re on schedule, Louie. I’ll want everything neatly pressed. Do you foresee any problems with delivering the finished work to the showroom before Fashion Week?”
“No problems, Pansy, except the finished product took more time than I anticipated. The construction of the garments was more complicated and time-consuming than I thought it would be from the sketches. You have a lot of little nuances, and construction details that took take extra time. I may have to charge you more than we discussed.”
“Wait a minute, Mr. Capriccio. You had ample opportunity to review the prototypes, the patterns, production specifications, and production flow charts before you quoted me a price. I don’t have any room in my budget for cost overruns. You can’t hold me up at the last minute for more money.”
“Now, don’t get all excited, Ms. Nicholas. I’m sure we can work something out. My cousin Tony Capriccio might be able to help out.”
“Who’s that? You friendly local Garment District loan shark? No, thanks. I’ll cancel the show before I get involved in any of that stuff. No. Way.”
“Did I say loan shark? Maybe we would just like to make an investment in you and your little company.”
“Mr. Capriccio, I would advise you to have my garments ready on time at the price we agreed on. With Fashion Week fast approaching, I would hate to have to cancel my show and tell everyone why. What designers would be willing to trust you with their deadlines after that? If the show goes well, I am anticipating more department store orders and more custom work. I would hate to have to find another manufacturer at this point.”
“Are you threatening me, Ms. Nicholas? That would not be wise.”
“Certainly not, Mr. Capriccio. I’m just telling it like it is. I need my clothes on time and in good order. Let’s not escalate this into a confrontation that neither of us can step back from.” Pansy’s heart was beating a mile a minute. She had not anticipated this little snafu. She had checked out M&C before choosing them and had not heard anything bad about the company. This was a total and unwelcome surprise.
“It isn’t wise to bite the hand that feeds you, Ms. Nicholas.”
“You have that backwards, Mr. Capriccio. I am the hand that feeds you, and the customer is always right.” Pansy glanced over at Melodie and Billie, who both looked horrified at the exchange between her and the schmata maker. Well, life in the Garment District could be tough and dangerous at times. The mob had had their collective toes in the rag business for a long time, but she’d be damned if she’d let them get their toes into her business.
* * * *
Billie did not like the sound of this. Pansy was pulling the tail of a dangerous tiger. Holy shit. Telling Louie Capriccio, grandnephew of Antonio Capriccio, head of the Capriccio family and Billie’s second or third cousin, that she was going to diss him at Fashion Week was a risky ploy. He knew from personal experience that the Capriccio family had their fingers in lots of pies in the Garment District, as well as in the garbage business. He figured more than one body was buried in garbage dumps under mounds of trash, never to be seen again. Those businesses were covers for money laundering and smuggling of everything from drugs to cigarettes. As far as he knew, his grandfather did not peddle flesh. Thank God for small favors. But he did muscle his way into legitimate businesses for his own nefarious purposes. Billie had been told that the family was making an effort to clean up its act and go legit. He’d believe that when Pops was elected president of the Better Business Bureau—not freakin’ likely to happen.
Billie pulled Pansy aside. “This isn’t the best time for a showdown, Pansy. Tell Capriccio to have your dresses ready and that you will have them picked up today. Let him think you’re taking them to your studio.”
“But Billie, I am taking them to the studio.”
“No you’re not. I’ll talk to Logan about storing them in the loft. I don’t think your entire inventory for the show will be safe in your studio. If Capriccio is making a bid to get a foot in the door of your business, you may not have heard the last of him.”
“Billie…”
“Trust me, Pansy. I know a little bit about this kind of thing. If something should happen to your studio, you will still have the inventory for your show. And don’t leave your business records, computer, or sketches there, just in case. You may need to be ready to start up again someplace else in the event of any unforeseen mishap.”
“Do you really think…?” Now she was scared.
“I’m afraid I do. The Capriccio family has its hand in a lot of pockets in the Garment District.”
“Geez. Thanks, Billie.”
“No problem. We’ll rent a small truck and have our roadies pick up the racks.”
While Pansy went back to talk to Louis Capriccio, Billie dialed Logan. “Hey, bro. Problem.” He filled Logan
in on what had happened that morning. “So, can we store Pansy’s clothes in that unused space in the loft? There are only three or four clothing racks.”
“Of course. I’d advise picking the finished clothes up late this afternoon, taking them for the scenic tour of Manhattan, and then bringing them to the garage entrance under the building. Hopefully no one will see them coming in.”
“Good idea. You know why I’m concerned, right?”
“Yeah. Families. Can’t live with ‘em, can’t get here without ‘em.”
“That’s the truth. Then there’s always the convenient ‘legal name-change ploy.’”
Pansy came back to Billie as he put his cell phone back in his pocket. “Logan said okay to storing your stuff at the loft. He’s going to call the road team and have them get the truck. Tell Capriccio you’ll pick up your goods this afternoon. Do you have your checkbook with you?”
“Yes. I’ll give the driver the check to turn over when the clothes are in the truck. All of a sudden, he’s all Mr. Friendly conciliation. I don’t trust him.”
“No. It’s never a good idea to trust a Capriccio.”
* * * *
Late that afternoon, Billie and Dark Place’s road crew pulled up to the loading dock behind M&C Fabricators. He had Pansy’s check in his pocket. It was a good thing he hadn’t seen his cousin in years, and that his rock ‘n’ roll persona was unknown to the family. They just knew him as Johnnie’s kid who got a Master’s at Columbia. Just as well.
Billie took a quick look through the individually wrapped outfits to make sure they were all there. It looked like they were. Good thing he’d had the opportunity to organize them for their trip down the runway and was familiar with the lineup. He supervised the loading of the finished clothes, making sure everything was covered with clean tarps before going into the truck. It wouldn’t do to have Pansy’s merchandise soiled in transit. He turned Pansy’s check over to Louie and hopped into the cab of the truck with the guys, and they pulled out into traffic. Billie was keeping an eye on the rear-view mirror. It didn’t seem that anyone was following the truck. Well, that made sense. Louie knew where Pansy’s studio was, and thought the clothes would be going there.
“Marco, take the long way. Let’s tour the city before we go back to the loft. We don’t want anyone to know where these rags ended up.” By the time the clothing racks had been moved into the loft, it was after seven o’clock. Billie handed the guys a hundred bucks each and some additional cash for their dinner. “Go get some beers and dinner on me. Thanks for your help.”
He pulled his phone out and dialed. “Pansy, the clothes are at the loft, safe and sound. Of course, Louie had nothing of interest to say to me, the truck guy, but you may be hearing from him again with another proposal to invest in your shop.”
“Thanks for your help, Billie. I think I’ll turn in early tonight. Leave me a text if you need to reach me. I’ll be checking for messages.”
“Goodnight, Pansy.”
* * * *
Pansy put her phone down on the table next to her bed. She was stretched out and trying to decompress with a glass of wine, some chocolate, and a sexy book. The book seemed to be revving her up rather than settling her nerves, so she put it aside. She thought about the day. Billie had been an amazing help today, first making sense of her runway lineup, and then collecting the clothes from M&C.
What the hell was that all about? Why would the mob be interested in her little shop? It wasn’t a big moneymaker yet, although she had high hopes for the future. What could they expect to gain? An opportunity to launder money, transport drugs in her shipments? What?
And Billie Crockett. He was something else, exactly what that was she wasn’t sure. He was sexy as hell with that mop of dark curls, that ripped body, and that rock ‘n’ roll bad-boy vibe that just oozed off of him. That was one thing she was sure of. Billie Crockett was a hunk. But he was also a player, and a BDSM Dom. Pansy had a feeling that she had not even begun to plumb the depths of Billie Crockett. This upcoming trip to Florida after Fashion Week was going to be interesting. She and Melodie had laughed about those Fifty Shades books and joked about whether either of them could do that, and then Melodie had met Logan. Well, now she was doing it. A lot. LOL, as they say.
They had discussed exactly what a D/s or Dominant/submissive lifestyle entailed. Logan and Melodie certainly didn’t have a twenty-four-seven situation, but Pansy also knew they played quite seriously, and Melodie got her little butt paddled occasionally. That thought made her laugh. But that thought also made her hot.
Could she do it? Could she allow someone to take over complete control, even for a while? Would she like to try? This trip would be her opportunity to find out, with the safety net of Melodie and Logan there for support. She had to think about this. If she decided not to give it a try, she might always regret it. Regardless of what she decided, she would still be at a great hotel on the beach in February. What could be bad about that? Pansy put the wine glass down and turned off her Kindle. She was asleep within minutes.
* * * *
Pansy struggled awake out of a deep sleep. What the hell? Her phone was ringing. She leaned over and picked it up. It said 3:30 a.m. The security company that monitored the alarm system at her studio was on the phone. That was one expense she hadn’t second-guessed. Pansy certainly didn’t want to have anything happen to her sketches or work in progress. She had taken Billie’s advice and brought her critical records and her laptop computer home. She reached over and answered the phone. “Pansy Nicholas. Code 72679.” The code was “Pansy” on the telephone keypad.
“Ms. Nicholas, there’s been an alarm at your studio. We have one of our cars on the way. The security men will call the police if the premises have been entered.”
“Thank you. Should I go down there?”
“Please wait until our men have checked it out. I’ll call you back.”
Shit. In the three years she’d been in that space, the alarm had never gone off. The security company called back within ten minutes. “Ms. Nicholas, someone has been inside the studio, and the place has been ransacked. Files and papers are all over the floors, and some clothing has been slashed. Did you have any valuables there? Do you have any idea of who might have done this? Our guys said it didn’t seem random.”
“Yes, I have an idea, but I might be off-the-wall. Should I meet the police at the studio?”
“Yes, you should go down there now. A cruiser is on the way with detectives to follow.”
Pansy got up, dressed in her loose and well-laundered FIT sweatshirt, jeans, short boots and leather jacket. She called Melodie and Logan. She didn’t want to go to the studio alone. This was very strange—and the same day she’d had a problem with Louis Capriccio. Very strange.
Pansy was waiting at the curb when Logan and Melodie pulled up in his SUV. Thank goodness he kept a car in the city. Getting a cab at this hour would be difficult and she really hadn’t wanted to walk the long, dark blocks to her building, which wasn’t in the best neighborhood. She climbed into the back seat and looked up into Billie’s dark chocolate eyes. He took her hand and pulled her across the seat until she was sitting close to him.
“I’m sorry about this, Pansy. I just had a feeling there was more coming. Did you take your important stuff home?”
“Yes, I did, but there is no reason for you to be sorry. You didn’t do this.”
“There are reasons, and there are reasons.”
Chapter Three
The workroom of Pansy’s Frocks, Tribeca section of New York City, New York, very early Tuesday morning, January 5, 2016
Logan had headed north on Greenwich toward Canal. The traffic had been nonexistent at that hour, and they were lucky enough to catch all the green lights. The car pulled up in front of Pansy’s building within a few minutes. The NYPD cruiser was already parked at the curb. They took the elevator up to the third floor and found the officers standing outside the open door.
“I’m Pan
sy Nicholas. This is my studio. Can I go inside and see the damage, Officers?”
“You should wait for the detectives, ma’am. We’ve walked through and the premises are clear, but it’s a mess. The detectives may want to call in CSU to dust for prints and all.”
“Okay. I don’t understand this. There is nothing in there that could be sold except some used office equipment. A junkie wouldn’t get much for a used calculator and an old computer and printer.”
Billie looked at her. “You know this wasn’t a junkie.”
“Yeah, I know. I didn’t really think so, either. What would Louis Capriccio gain by doing this?” Pansy saw the heads of two of New York’s finest pop up at the mention of Louis Capriccio. Well, obviously the name wasn’t unknown to the police.
“It’s a scare tactic. They have some reason for wanting access to your business. I wouldn’t be surprised if you got a ‘friendly’ call from Louie to see if you’re satisfied with the clothes—and maybe another offer of financial assistance. All innocent, of course.”
Just then a black, unmarked car pulled to the curb on the street below and two plain-clothed detectives got out and entered the building. They walked through the door of the studio within minutes. Pansy stepped up to greet them and introduce herself. Melodie had gone back to the small kitchenette and put on a pot of coffee, and was handing out cups. When she raised her eyebrows in inquiry at the police detectives and received a grateful affirmative nod, she went back into the kitchen for two more cups. The detectives looked around and came back to talk to Pansy.
“So, do you have any ideas about this, Ms. Nicholas?”
Pansy relayed what had happened at the M&C factory that day and that her outfits for the Fashion Week show were currently being stored at an undisclosed location. The taller of the two detectives said, “We’ll file a report and let the Organized Crime Division know about this and the offer to buy into your business, Ms. Nicholas. The Capriccio family has been expanding their sphere of influence in the Garment District. Do you import or export clothes or fabrics?”
Pansy's Passion [The Black Dahlia Hotel 5] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic) Page 3
