by Hamel, B. B.
Unless I was trying to hide it from him.
By the time we’re finished eating, I’m thoroughly charmed and entirely out of my depth. I’ve been honest with him about who I am and what I do, except for one detail. I keep telling myself that it doesn’t matter, that I’m not here to investigate him, that he’s just a means to an end.
But I hate keeping this from him. I want him to know. He seems like a decent person and I honestly think that if I told him the truth, he might actually help aid our investigation. I’m sure nobody’s actually tried talking to him before.
Maybe I’m just being naive or maybe I’m just utterly charmed by him. Either way, I’m out of my depth here. This wasn’t what I signed on for.
“That was good,” I say as he pays the check.
“Yeah, it was. Good food, nice company.” He smirks at me. “Not bad to look at, either.”
I roll my eyes again. “You’re ceaseless. You know that, right?”
“I just speak my mind, is all.”
“Oh, sure. That’s the excuse of every asshole in the world, you know.”
“I know.”
He stands and comes over to me, helping me pull my chair out. I’m distracted by how close he is, the way he smells, the way his hand lingers on the small of my back sending chills of excitement down my spine. His smile makes me shiver and I can’t bring myself to look away.
“Come on,” he says. “It’s nice out. How about a little walk?”
“Right. Sure.”
He grins and takes my hand. It feels so effortless, so normal. He leads me through the dining room, smiles at the hostess, and we step out into the afternoon sun.
He doesn’t drop my hand. I don’t want him to. I kept telling myself this was just some normal lunch, but that’s clearly not the case.
God, what am I doing? Is this for the investigation, or is this real?
We start to walk. He talks about the first time he saw New York, how big it was. “I grew up in a mansion on the edge of a small Virginia town,” he says. “And then I went to boarding school in New England. You’d think I’d be a little more cultured, but the first time I really saw the city, I was blown away. Just so many buildings and so damn tall.” He laughs a little bit.
It’s endearing, his vulnerable honesty. “I felt the same way about here,” I admit. “I grew up in the suburbs. Then I came here and it was like… a new world.”
“Right. It’s strange to admit. I don’t normally tell people. I have a reputation, after all.”
I laugh a little and instinctively touch my bag. I look inside and realize my phone’s missing. “Shit,” I say, stopping and dropping his hand.
“What’s wrong?”
“I left my phone on the table.”
“Oh, okay, let’s go get it.”
He takes off. I have to hurry to keep up. It’s like this little setback is no big deal, no problem at all. Like I’m not cutting into our short, precious time out in the very gorgeous afternoon sun.
We reach the cafe and he steps inside. I follow him. He speaks briefly to the hostess then heads back. I stick close and nearly run into him as we reach the back of the room.
“Hey,” he says.
I look around his shoulder. A man’s standing next to our table, slipping something into his pocket. He’s wearing jeans and a dirty sweatshirt. He’s pale with dark hair and dark bags under his eyes.
The guy turns away.
“Hey,” Jacob says again. “Did you just take a phone?”
The guy runs.
Jacob doesn’t hesitate. He takes off after him.
“Jacob!” I say. “Hold on, wait!”
But he’s not listening. The guy runs to the back of the restaurant, back where the bathrooms are. He stumbles over some extra chairs then slams into the emergency exit. He flies out the door and into an alley.
Jacob is right on his heels. He bursts through the door and disappears out after the guy. I hurry after them, shouting Jacob’s name. I hit the door and step out into the alleyway, expecting the guy to be gone and Jacob to be looking around, winded and angry, but instead I find the guy thrown to the ground and Jacob standing over him.
“Did you take that phone?” he growls.
The guy shrinks back. “It’s fine, I just, I found it, man. I found it. I didn’t mean to do anything.”
“You mean, you stole a fucking phone because the opportunity presented itself.” Jacob stands over him menacingly. “Give it to me.”
The guy takes the phone from his pocket. My phone, definitely my phone. Jacob snatches it and holds it toward me. “Yours?” he asks.
I take it and press the fingerprint sensor. It unlocks. “Mine.”
Jacob punches the guy in the face. The man’s head cracks back and Jacob leans over him. “Don’t take what isn’t yours, asshole.”
He steps away. I stand there, stunned, heart racing. Jacob looks back at me and smiles, and for a second I feel a thrill run through my body. It’s the most handsome smile I’ve ever seen. He just ran a guy down and punched him, all because of my phone.
He did that for me.
“Come on,” he says, steering me away from the guy down on the ground, groaning and holding his nose. “Let’s try to enjoy the day, shall we?”
I stare at him. “You just… you just…”
“I just punished some piece of shit that stole from you,” Jacob says. “No big deal.”
“No big deal? You could’ve been hurt. You could’ve been…” I trail off and stare at him.
He laughs as we turn the corner onto a more crowded sidewalk.
“But I wasn’t. I’m not the kind of man that lets someone take something from people I like, Valerie.”
I bite my lip. “You like me?”
He looks a little surprised. “I thought I was making that obvious.”
I turn to him and we stop on the sidewalk. I’m standing against him, facing him, looking up into his eyes. He puts his arms around me and leans forward.
I tilt my head and he kisses me.
I didn’t expect it. I didn’t plan it. And I definitely shouldn’t do it.
But his kiss tastes like ecstasy. Like grass and dirt and longing. I sink into the kiss, letting it shift from something easy and light to something heavier and deeper. He holds me tight against him and finally the kiss breaks off. He looks at me with a little smile on his face.
“I should punch guys more often,” he says. “If that’s how you’re going to respond.”
I blush deeply. “That’s not… I mean, I’m not…”
“You’re not into that?” He laughs a little. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t love watching me punch that asshole for you.”
“I don’t need to be protected.”
“Maybe. But I’ll protect you anyway.”
I stand there in his arms for a second, staring into his eyes, and I feel so overwhelmed I can barely breathe.
But finally, he steps aside and takes my hand.
“Come on. Let’s walk for a bit before I have to go back to the office. It’s a nice day.” He pauses. “Unless you want to take me back to that little apartment of yours?”
I blush even more. “Another time. Maybe.”
“Another time then.”
He smirks at me and we start walking. I feel like the world moves in a blur around us, but one thing is sure: that kiss was real, and the feeling still lingers on my lips.
4
Jacob
I have that kiss on my mind early the next morning.
I can’t seem to get her taste off my lips. That little delicious Val, she tilted her head up toward me and begged for me to kiss her. I could tell she loved it when I punched that fucking thief in the face, loved it that I was willing to risk my safety to defend her.
She has no clue what else I’d be willing to risk. I got a taste… and now I know I need more. I need another taste as soon as possible. She’s already starting to drive me absolutely wild with it.
&n
bsp; But I have to concentrate. I’m here for a reason, and that reason isn’t to fuck some gorgeous, smart young trader. I’m here to open another fucking office and to make some more money for my fund.
It’s raining slightly as I walk down the street. Philadelphia is never quiet, although not quite like New York. Even in the rain, there are panhandlers on the street, begging for change, yelling insults when people ignore them. I float past it all, intent on my meeting.
I stop at the given address and hesitate. It’s a little coffee bar. I’ve walked past this place a few times and wanted to go in, but it’s not the kind of place I’d want to have a meeting with prospective clients.
Normally, Darin would do this. But he’s busy in California right now and I’m the only one in the city, so it falls to me to get it done. I’ve gone to client pitches before and I’m comfortable with it, but it’s just not my specialty. That’s Darin’s department.
Doesn’t matter. I’m here. I close my eyes for a second, pulling up the look on Val’s face just after I hit that man. She looked absolutely enamored with me, like she couldn’t believe what I’d done… and couldn’t believe how much she loved it.
I smile and step inside.
The men I’m supposed to be meeting with stand out immediately. Most of the clients are local hipster types, lots of beards and cut-off jean shorts. The men I’m meeting with are sitting toward the back in black suits, both of them with well-groomed hair and dark eyes. They stand as I approach. They’re both average height, though the one closest to me is slightly overweight and in his mid-fifties. The other is clearly younger and fit with a sharp little smile.
“Mr. Caro and Mr. Morra?”
“You must be Jacob Lofthouse.” The heavier, older man smiles at me, shakes my hand. He has a deep Philadelphia accent, one that I’ve become accustomed to lately, though his stands out. “Nice to meet you. I’m Carmine Caro, just call me Carmine.”
The younger man shakes next. “Dino Morra. Just call me Dee, everyone else does.” His smile is charming and his accent isn’t as heavy as Carmine’s, but still there.
“Nice to meet you both.” I slip into the booth and before I can say any more, a man comes out with three cups of steaming espresso.
“Thank you, Thomas,” Carmine says.
The barista nods and heads back to the counter where people are waiting.
“It’s good stuff,” Dee says. “Very good. We bought this place, what, two years ago?”
“You couldn’t get enough of it. I said, you’s gonna get addicted, Dee. And here we are.” Carmine laughs. “I was right.”
“He was right.” Dee grins at me.
“How is the coffee business?” I ask. “We tend to avoid most food industry investments. Too volatile.”
The men grin at each other. “Volatile don’t bother us none,” Carmine says.
“No, volatile is okay. But this place is steady. I mean, look at it, still doing business even in all this rain.”
I had to admit, he had a point. Lots of customers were coming in and out. “So, gentlemen. I have a little presentation set up, if you want to see?”
Carmine shrugs. “Presentation, no presentation, doesn’t matter. Whatever you want to do, Jacob.”
“Truth is, we hear good things about you and your partner. What’s your fund called again? FMFL?”
“FLFM,” I say. “But close enough.”
Dee laughs. “There’s a show I like, this Japanese cartoon. Called FLCL. Fooly Cooly. Good stuff.”
Carmine grins at me. “He’s young, Mr. Lofthouse. Please excuse my associate. He’s not used to business meetings. That right, Dee?”
“Ah, come on. Plenty of meetings around here” Dee laughs.
I’m not sure what I’m supposed to make of these guys. I’m used to high-end businesses or wealthy individuals, but these two don’t really seem like either. They might have some money, considering their clothes. But their mannerisms suggest they’re something I’ve never encountered before. Still, Darin sent me to them, so they must be legitimate to get his attention.
“Well, here. Let’s start with this.” I take out some simple pamphlets I had made with the highlights. “You can get a sense of our financial standing based on these numbers. We can’t guarantee any sort of return, and any fund that does is ripping you off. But I can show you what we’ve been able to do over the years compared with the industry as a whole and certain competitors in particular.”
Both men look at the literature and look bored as I go through my little routine. I tell them about how we stack up against everyone else, how we bring in more money and do it with more stability, even in unstable times. When I finish, both men have glazed-over looks.
“So, okay, what you’re saying is, we can make money with you?” Dee asks.
“Of course that’s what he’s saying,” Carmine snaps. “What else would he say?”
“I’m just sayin’.” Dee shrugs a little.
“What I’m saying, gentlemen, is that we have a proven track record. Our fees are competitive and lower in some cases. Our returns are competitive or better in some cases. But what you really get with us is stability. We don’t do big losses. We don’t do big swings. You’ll have a single manager that will make sure your money is growing.”
“I like that,” Carmine says. “Steady. Easy.”
“The personal touch,” Dee adds.
“Exactly. Listen, we’re opening a new branch out here. This is your chance to get in on something brand new before anyone else does. It’ll get your foot in the door, get you a little extra attention.”
“All right, all right,” Carmine says. “I got him. Do you got him, Dee?”
“I got him.” Dee takes out a checkbook. “We want to invest with you.”
I look at the checkbook and laugh. “That’s great, that really is. But you don’t need to write me a check here and now. Ah, it would be better if we got your account set up. There’s some paperwork involved, and then we can—”
Both men look at each other. I can tell I said something off, so I stop myself. “What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Here’s the thing,” Carmine says. “Your partner, Darin. He said there wouldn’t be any paper trail. You know, nothing to suggest that we’re involved with you guys. I mean, not that there’s anything questionable, but we’re very private men.”
“Very private,” Dee adds.
“We don’t like being in paperwork. We don’t like being anywhere. We want to give you money, a lot of money. Pay your fees. Help us grow.”
“Grow a lot.” Dee grins.
“I’m sorry, we have to do some basic reporting to governing bodies and—”
“Maybe we should speak with Darin,” Carmine says.
Dee gives me a flat stare.
I look back at them, shocked. I don’t know what to say. In all my time in the financial industry, I’ve never had someone say something like that to me before. They want me to hide the fact that they’re my clients and still invest their money. I’m not sure about the legality of that in terms of SEC filings, but at the very least, we need some paperwork on them for HR reasons.
I shake my head and gather my things. “Maybe you should,” I say. “I’m sorry we came to this, gentlemen. Whatever Darin promised, I wasn’t briefed on it.”
“Get yourself briefed,” Carmine says, face deadpan. He doesn’t look happy. All smiles are gone.
I get up. They don’t move at all, just stare at me.
“I’ll speak with Darin. I hope we can work this business out.”
They nod. I slip past and leave as fast as I can.
My phone’s in my hand not ten seconds after stepping out of that place. I find a dry overhang to stand under and call Darin. He answers right away.
“How’d it go?” he asks, sounding chipper. It must be just about six in the morning in California, but that’s Darin, always up and always ready.
“Did you send me to a meeting with fucking mobsters?”
“Darin. Who the fuck are you doing business with?”
“Maybe we should—”
“No. We should talk here and now.”
There’s a short silence. “Look. They’re good men, okay? They’re private men. I told them we could work together, but discreetly.”
“They want to be off the books entirely.”
He laughs. “I didn’t approve that.”
“Carmine Caro seems to think you did. Jesus fucking shit, Darin. Who are those guys?”
“They’re just… businessmen. They own a bunch of stores all over Philly. They’re landlords. And investors. And they have a fucking ton of money and connections.”
“So what? We don’t do anything off the books.”
“Look, I’ll talk to them, okay? I’ll straighten this out. I think it’s just a misunderstanding. We’ll make it work, okay?”
“Darin,” I say. The rain patters down on the sidewalk and I can hear every drop like lightning. “Listen to me. I’m not working with mobsters. Don’t get us involved in that shit. Do you understand me?”
He’s quiet for a second. “I’ll straighten it out,” he says. “Okay?”
“Fine. Don’t fuck this up.” I hang the phone up.
I stand there and stare at the rain for a minute. I can’t believe what just happened. Those guys were mobsters, there’s no doubt in my mind. They’re mobsters and my partner wants me to work with them. Not just work with them, but do it off the books.
He set that up. I know he did. He told them something, made some promises to them. The problem is, I don’t know why. I don’t get why he’d do something so stupid.
There’s no shortage of rich men that want to become even richer. There’s just no reason to get mixed up with anyone even remotely shady.
As I stand there, I can’t help but wonder what else Darin’s been doing that I don’t know about. Is that the only instance of mobsters we’ve worked with? As far as I know it is, but maybe he’s doing things off the books. I don’t go over every single client personally. I don’t look at every single number. I run it all and manage it, but I’m not on top of absolutely everything.
