by Stone Kiss
The man was truly a phantom.
This time, Donatti was with a young girl. She appeared around fifteen, but knowing how careful Chris was, she was probably eighteen. Donatti opened the door, and Decker got in. The girl slid in next. Last came Chris.
Her pixie face was painted with very little makeup and framed with dark hair. Innocent face, but the dress was anything but. She had on a red tank top, a leather miniskirt, and fishnets. Around her shoulders was a feathered boa. No bra, her nipples were big and erect. She must have been freezing in the getup.
Donatti gave the driver an address. No one spoke.
As the blocks sped by, Decker felt something against his leg. He moved closer to the door, but the child was persistent, nuzzling her limb against his. It was only after her hand had brushed against his thigh and had come to rest on his knee that he had had enough.
Fury welled inside of him. He shot Donatti a hateful look so filled with venom that even Chris’s stone demeanor cracked around the eyes. He pulled his charge’s hand off Decker’s thigh.
Donatti said, “Switch places with me, honey. You’re bothering him.”
With one swift motion, he lifted her across his lap, swatting her fanny as he put her on his right side.
“Ooh, do it again,” she purred.
“Behave yourself,” Donatti told her. “We’re in public.”
“Never stopped you before.”
This time, he gave her the force of his eyes, and she slumped back in the seat, hands in her lap.
“Pull over here,” Donatti told the cabbie. “Keep the meter running. Wait for me.”
The driver nodded.
Donatti said, “Get out. I’ll walk you to the door.”
The girl said, “He’s not coming up?”
“No, he’s not coming up.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s not.”
“Well, maybe he’d like to come up.”
“No, he wouldn’t.”
“Are you coming up?”
“No. Get out.”
“Why not?”
“Out.” This time, Donatti didn’t wait. With his long arms, he reached over and opened the passenger door, then pushed her out of the hack. She fell on the sidewalk, but before she could get up, Chris was on her, yanking her to her feet, then dragging her to the front door of an apartment building.
Decker swallowed his wrath as he watched the abuse. Shaynda was still missing. As soon as Donatti and the girl were out of earshot, the cabbie said, “The company don’t like us waiting for fares.”
“If you want to take off, it’s fine with me,” Decker said.
The driver chuckled. “No, I don’t think that would be a good idea. You know who that is, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Decker said.
“You sure you know?”
“Christopher Donatti.”
“Just thought I’d say something, in case you didn’t know. Cause I heard him ask for you twose to share the cab. So maybe you didn’t know.”
“I know. Thanks.”
Decker peeked out the window. The girl had thrown her arms around Donatti, was in the process of trying to kiss him. He recoiled from her face and shoved her away. To mollify his rough behavior, he gave her another playful swat on the butt. Then he walked back and gave the cab his loft address.
Donatti threw his head back and closed his eyes. Acting so casual while Decker was still nursing resentment. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. Just what was Donatti trying to pull? He couldn’t have been that moronic as to give that girl—that child—an order to seduce him. So what was the point? Just a little head trip to see Decker squirm?
Enough was enough. Donatti might have information, but right now, Decker was too damn furious to be with the bastard. To deal with Chris, Decker needed to be calm and nonjudgmental. He had to walk it off.
He blurted out to the driver, “Just pull over here.” A good two dozen blocks shy of Donatti’s digs.
Chris opened his eyes, looked at him.
“This is my stop,” Decker insisted.
“Here?” the driver asked.
“Here. Pull over now!”
The cabbie did as told.
Decker threw half the fare in Donatti’s lap. “Hey, thanks a lot, buddy.” He threw open the door and stormed out.
It took over twenty minutes of marching uptown on Riverside Drive for Decker to steady his rapid heartbeat. As he trod down the near-empty street, the Hudson River looking black and endless, he couldn’t erase the image of that pathetic little girl, shoved and demeaned, yet she was trying so hard. It saddened him—all these broken souls—but what was the sense of bleeding? Even if Decker had had the capacity to redeem her, there were hundreds of others waiting to take her place.
It was cruel outside, a hard, malodorous mist pricking his face. He was fast approaching 135th, and was at a juncture. Jump or cut bait.
Shaynda was still missing.
Like a cat to his piss, he navigated his way toward Donatti’s building, reaching it, but hesitating before pressing the bell. There was a better than good chance that by now Donatti was equally as pissed, meaning that Decker had blown his one chance. Just terrific!
Suddenly, the buzzer sounded without Decker’s finger on the button.
The video monitor in the office: Donatti had been watching for him. Waiting for him.
Decker went inside the lobby, and this time took the elevator up. The cage was slow and bumpy. He was buzzed into the anteroom and went through the metal detector, but he didn’t set it off probably because Chris had turned it off. The door to the loft was open. Chris greeted him with two glasses of scotch, holding one out to Decker.
“Pass.”
Donatti didn’t move, his arm still extending the cut-crystal glass. Their eyes locked. Decker knew that if he didn’t take the booze, he might as well pack it up. If Donatti was sitting on something, Decker might as well find out what it was. Give the bastard this little victory. He took the glass.
Chris clinked it with his own, then took up the bottle and opened up his office. Without a word, Decker went inside. Chris followed, locked the door, and flipped the antibug switch. He sipped the booze while he and Decker did a staring contest. This time, Decker wasn’t going to give ground.
Donatti went first. “She improvised. You’ve gotta know that wasn’t my idea.”
Decker continued to make eye contact. “Then what was she doing with you in the first place?”
“I was helping her out of a jam.”
“Which you put her into by pimping her.”
Donatti seemed amused. “If I were pimping her, she wouldn’t have been in a jam.” He drained the scotch. “Can I help it if she’s a bad judge of character?”
Decker didn’t answer.
Donatti said, “I usually make it a point to stay in good standing with my former models.”
“Former?”
“Yeah, she’s nineteen now. Can’t use her anymore. Too exposed and too old.”
“At nineteen, she’s too old.”
“One year, Decker,” Donatti said. “Eighteen to nineteen. Men have an infinite appetite for pussy as long as the flesh is fresh. We’re talking a high-turnover business.”
“Where do you get them from?”
“That’s my specialty. Which leads us to the point of this meeting. What I say can’t go beyond these four walls. Not to your wife, to your lawyer, to your rabbi, even to yourself when you sing in the shower. The results of a slipup can be very deleterious.”
Decker didn’t answer.
“Silence isn’t good enough. I’ve got to have your word.”
“You put an awful lot of trust in my word, Donatti.”
“Is it unfounded?”
Decker hid his expression behind the glass.
“If I don’t have your word, there’s no point to any of this.”
“Don’t confess a murder to me, Chris.”
“Who me?” He gri
nned. “Your word?”
Decker nodded.
Donatti said, “I’m only doing this so you won’t yank your chain. I’ve got the girl. That means you can concentrate on the whack. If the cops told you that I did it, they’re lying. I don’t know anything about it. If I find something out, I’ll pass it along.”
He stood up, but Decker didn’t. “What do you mean, you’ve got the girl?”
“Just that. I’ve got the girl. I’ve had her since Friday. She’s safe. That’s all you have to know.”
“What about her parents—”
“When I say you can’t tell anyone, I mean you can’t tell anyone. I thought that was understood.”
“They’re frantic with worry.”
“I’m sure they are. But they’re still included under no one, Decker!”
Silence.
Decker’s head was awhirl with options. “She’s fifteen, Donatti.”
“I know that.” He smiled. “That’s why you can’t tell anyone. I could go to prison. Having been in prison, I know that I don’t like it. It’s getting late—”
“You have other girls?”
Donatti stared at him. “You’re asking a lot of questions, Decker. The answers may put you in conflict. That won’t do either of us any good.”
“How many girls do you have, Donatti?”
Chris didn’t answer.
Decker needed Donatti’s trust to get information. He made a calculated choice. “It stays between you and me, I swear.”
Donatti sat back down and poured himself another drink. “Twenty at the moment. If I wanted, I could have a hundred. Most of them are sixteen plus, but I have a few who are younger.”
“Boys?”
“Yeah, I got some faggots, too. Like the birdies you saw helping me out. Those two were over eighteen, but not when I first met them. No straight boys: I used to take them in… nothing but problems. They’d pester the girls and get into dogfights with me over the alpha spot. You can imagine who won out. Pains in the ass— all of them.”
“You pimp them.”
Donatti looked up at the ceiling. “Pimp is a very loaded word, Decker. I do them favors. In return, they do me favors. Matter of fact, they’re so grateful to me that they can’t wait to do me favors. The way I look at it, I’m the final railway stop, a last-ditch effort to save their asses from the real cold characters. Sometimes I even buy them from the bad boys if they look good enough. I have places where I let them dry out. I give them food, a roof over their heads, clothes on their backs, and drugs if they need it. About twenty-five percent leave after a few days, another twenty-five leave after a week. Usually, if they stay more than two weeks, I’ve got ’em hooked.”
“Hooked?”
“No, not on drugs…on me. I’ve got them convinced that they can’t survive without my protection.” Donatti spoke patiently. “I’m practical, Decker. I don’t overwork the racehorse. The last thing I want is for them to be wasted sexually. I want them fresh and sassy-looking. A healthy-looking young nasty girl spreading her legs is a turn-on. A sexually abused waif cowering in the corner isn’t.”
“You use them for your magazine.”
“That’s the whole purpose, Decker. To get young pussy for my various enterprises. But to do that, I first gotta get them to eighteen. Ideally, I’d like to keep them without having to farm out their services, but right now I have a cash-flow problem because I’m on my own. See, with the Family, if you want something, there’s always money, but no savings plan. When Joey ran out, he simply took what he needed from whoever had it. Me? I’m looking for the long term.”
“Lots of adult magazines in the racks, Donatti.”
“Not to mention the videos and the interactive displays on the Internet. Which is why I’m going for the niche market. Not the hipsters, Decker, like in GQ or Esquire. Or the losers who gawk at silicone boobs in Playboy or Penthouse. Can you—as an older married straight male—relate to any of that shit?”
“I don’t buy those magazines, Donatti.”
“Because they don’t talk to you, Lieutenant. Who do I talk to? Committed married men in complacent but dull marriages. Those who don’t want to throw away everything by having a sleazy affair, but their sex lives have gone to seed. They’re a beleaguered lot. Maybe not in your case, Decker, but lots of middle-class guys can use a little empowering. Having been trapped in a hideous marriage for three and a half years, I know what I’m doing. I know all about the Internet and the Web pages and the self-directed on-line porno sites— I’ve got plans for those, too—but in the end, it’s inconvenient to take a laptop into the can to whack off. The wife might suspect something.”
Decker looked away and shook his head. “You’ve done some marketing research, Chris?”
“We’re living in sophisticated times. I’m in the experimental stage right now, from the advice columns to impregnating the pages with the right aromas. There is a load of money to be made doing young meat legally. By the time I reach thirty, I want to own half of Harlem. So yeah, my girls do me favors, but I’m not ruthless. And that’s the God’s honest truth because if I wanted to, I could work my bitches day in and day out, twenty-four/seven. After September eleventh, more than a few New Yorkers had midlife crises: guys who saw those mother-fuckers crash into the WTC and felt that the end was at hand. But they survived along with their cocks, and getting pussy, especially fresh young twat, placed high on the to-do list.”
“Funny, Donatti,” Decker snarled. “I saw heroes, not degenerates.”
“We all see what we’re searching for,” Donatti countered. “And what I know is demand is high right now. In this economy, a quick lay is still a cheap thrill. So maybe my girls are doing me a few more favors than usual, but slavery is illegal in this country. None of my girls are forced.”
“That depends on your definition of forced.”
“The kids are free to leave. But if they leave, they can’t come back. If they feel equipped to take on that big bad world out there… well, more power to them.”
“Nothing a little intimidation won’t take care of.”
“It is a scary world out there, Decker. If some of my stories make them a little cautious, I can live with that.”
Decker smoothed his mustache. “And you’re not worried about loose lips?”
“My kids don’t talk. So far, I’ve got a one-hundred-percent compliance rate because I’m very persuasive.”
“And if they did talk?”
Donatti shook his head ever so slightly. “Don’t go there.”
Decker exhaled heavily and turned away. Abruptly, he slammed his fist down on the table.
“I know,” Donatti said. “You want to beat the shit out of me. You want to pound my good-looking, arrogant, motherfucking head into a bloody pulp, and lop my oversize cock off because I’m in the driver’s seat. There was a time when the tables were turned, and I felt the way you’re feeling now. But we’re both adults now. You’ve got to swallow, Decker, just like I swallowed for eight years. If you were honest with yourself, you’d realize that I’m being big about this. You ruined my life.”
Decker’s laugh was mirthless. “You recovered pretty quickly, Chris.”
“You don’t know dick.” Donatti turned ugly. “I had my uncle convinced. I had her convinced. I could have owned her—body and soul—if you hadn’t fucked it up.”
“Women aren’t chattel anymore, Donatti.”
“That’s what you think,” Donatti spat back. “I was this close!” He pinched off an area between his index finger and his thumb. Then he sat back and sighed. “You know how it is… always obsessed with the one who got away. And I was obsessed with her to begin with.”
“You’re better off,” Decker said.
“You mean, she’s better off.” Donatti took a gulp of scotch. “Fuck the past. I’m a big boy. So I don’t own her. But I’m sure as hell renting her. And believe me, I’ve got her on a long-term lease. Besides, Terry isn’t the issue here. So forget about T
erry. You’ve got other problems. At the moment, your problem is camped out with me and very happy to be there.”
Decker felt his blood pressure rise, and that wasn’t doing anyone any good. “She’s in one piece?”
“Absolutely.”
“What’s her mental condition?”
“Very agitated. I found her that way. Right now, she won’t talk about it. That’s okay. I don’t need to know details.”
“What are you doing with her?”
“Just letting her chill. I don’t pimp, but if I did, I wouldn’t ever send anyone out like that. Way too unstable.”
“So you’re just letting her have free room and board, and asking nothing in return?”
“That about sums it up. Could be she’ll chill for a day or two, and I’ll never see her again. That’s a chance I always take. The other possibility is, she’ll want to do me favors. I stay in touch with all my girls, Decker. They’re out there on the streets—some selling their butts at their own risk, some are even working legit jobs. They’re my eyes and ears. They keep me connected to what’s going on because they’re very grateful to me.”
“Scared of you?”
“Same thing.”
“She’s safe?”
“Yes, Shayndie is safe.”
Saying her name. Showing Decker that he was legit. His eyes bore into Donatti’s. “You screwing her, Donatti?”
“Nah… not yet. But if she stays with me long enough, I will.” Donatti stared back. “Sex promotes loyalty.”
“What do you do with the boys?”
“Like I said… sex promotes loyalty.” A sly smile played on Donatti’s lips. “Nervous about being around me, Lieutenant?”
Decker wagged his finger at Chris’s face.
Donatti laughed. “I do whatever I have to do to get the job done. None of it is thrilling. To my kids—girls and boys—sex is lying on your back, squeezing your eyes shut, being real still, and letting Uncle George or Daddy do his thing. Between you and these four walls, I’d much rather fuck your wife—”
Decker was on him before the kid knew what hit him. He slammed Donatti against the wall, using all his weight to keep him pinned and helpless while he clamped his hands around his throat. He hissed, “We need to establish some ground rules, Chris.”
