Dark Justice

by Kristi Belcamino

  “It was a pleasure to meet you,” Mr. Hollingsworth said. His boy toy, Charles, dipped his head at me but didn’t speak. He was a little odd.

  People milled around two separate doors that I realized were elevators on opposite sides of the room.

  “What’s behind the other doors?” I asked Dante.

  “Stick around. I’ll give you a tour as soon as everyone leaves. One is to the kitchen. One is a stairwell.”

  “Nice.”

  “First, let me introduce you to some of the key players. You met Mr. Hollingsworth and Charles.”

  “Match made in heaven,” I said dryly. I thought it was appropriate that Hollingsworth was called by his last name with “mister” and his fuck boy was simply called “Charles.”

  Dante shot me a warning glance. “Oliver Hollingsworth is one of the richest and most powerful men in San Francisco. I’m sure he has his choice of boy toys,” he said in a low voice.

  “I get it. But he’s a hell of a lot more charming than his boy toy. I figured he could be pickier. Fuck someone with a little more personality.”

  “Gia!”

  “What?”

  Then Dante plastered a broad smile on his face.

  “Gia, may I introduce you to Mayor Anthony Ferraro.”

  It was the man with the deep tan. He looked like he spent his spare time getting mani-pedis. He was just a little “too” pretty and groomed, as if his suits could stand up on their own.

  We Italians called men like this, “mammones.” They were mama’s boys who lived at home, sponging off mama’s cooking and cleaning until they were in their forties.

  I liked my men a little more rugged and independent.

  I thought of Ryder, and a surge of lust raced through me. Damn. That was unexpected. I snuck a glance around the room and spotted James. It was probably his fault, as well.

  “Don’t you think, Miss Santella?”

  Shit. The mayor had asked me something. I raised an eyebrow and gave a noncommittal shrug.

  Fuck. What had he asked. I looked at Dante, and he didn’t seem alarmed so my response must have been okay.

  Just then, thank God, someone else walked up and Dante introduced me. At the same time, someone pulled the mayor aside.

  “Jackie Fong meet Gia Santella. Jackie is head of the City by the Bay Hospitality Group. Gia and I are business partners.”

  Jackie Fong had a chic silver bob and a warm smile. She wore wide-leg silk pants and had layers of wooden beaded necklaces looped around her neck. I liked her instantly.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said and meant it.

  “I’m so glad you are coming on board,” Jackie said. “Ever since Tiana left, I’ve been swimming upstream around here. There’s way too much testosterone in this room for my liking,” she said and winked. “I’m not talking about you, Dante.”

  “Hey! Gay men have plenty of testosterone. Trust me.”

  She ignored him and grasped both of my hands.

  “I’m in charge of securing sponsorships for the gala. Let me know if you have any ideas. I’m pretty much set, but a new take on the city and its offerings is always welcome. We tend to approach the same organizations year after year. Sooo boring. We need to reach more businesses owned by women. I’m sick of the old guard being the only ones showcased at this gala. This is the year it’s going to be different.”

  “Of course,” I said.

  “She’s right,” Dante said. “Hollingsworth is the last of the old guard on this committee. This is the first year we’re shaking it up.”

  “Thank God, Dante is in more of a leadership role this year. It’s changed everything. Let’s talk more later, Gia. I have to run,” she said, leaning forward and air kissing me. “I have a meeting with the governor. He’s in town for the weekend.”

  And then she was gone.

  “She’s a force,” I said to Dante as we both watched her get into the elevator.

  “She used to run a Fortune 500 company. She retired and bought another company—a Silicon Valley startup—but that apparently doesn’t keep her busy enough, so she runs the hospitality group now too.”

  “I like her,” I said.

  “Me too,” he said. “By the way, you were rude to the mayor.”

  “I was?”

  “Yes. You need to be nice to him. He can make our life here as hotel owners miserable if he wants.”

  “Oh.”

  Then Dante introduced me to Carl Rosenbloom.

  He was head of the San Francisco Chamber of Commerce. He had a slight paunch and thinning hair, but his smile was genuine and his eyes seemed kind behind his wire-rimmed glasses. But as soon as we were introduced, his phone buzzed.

  He glanced down at it and then frowned. After that, he wouldn’t meet my eyes. He kept looking off past me, over my shoulder. So much so that I actually turned to look if there was something behind me. There wasn’t. Just a view of South San Francisco.

  “Well, it was nice to meet you.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” he said and then realized what he was saying. “I’m sorry. I’m a little distracted today.”

  He finally met my eyes. I smiled. I could forgive that. We all have tough days.

  “No problem,” I said. “Looking forward to working with you in the future.”

  “Likewise,” he said. And then he was gone.

  “That was weird,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Dante said and frowned. “He’s usually more congenial. I think he must have a lot on his mind. I heard that the chamber of commerce is really getting a lot of heat from people protesting the opera. He’s sort of in the hot seat since he’s head of the chamber, on this committee, and also CEO of a company that was accused of anti-Semitism a few years back after a Jewish man was fired.”

  “Oh shit,” I said. “No wonder he was distracted. Do you think he’s anti-Semitic?”

  “No way,” Dante said. “He doesn’t defend himself publicly, but his wife is Jewish.”

  “Well, there you have it,” I said. “Why doesn’t he tell people who accuse him of being anti-Semitic that.”

  Dante shrugged. “No clue.”

  “Can we go?”

  “Soon. You’ve met the biggest movers and shakers, but let’s introduce you to everyone else just briefly.”

  “Seriously?” I shot a glance at the bar. “Can’t I have a drink?”

  “Later,” Dante said and then introduced me to everyone else.

  Finally, I’d met everyone. I was about to sneak over to the bar while Dante had his back turned when James appeared before me.

  Madame Butterfly stood beside him, looking annoyed.

  “When are we going to get together?” he said. “I need to know everything. We need to catch up on ten years.”

  “Definitely,” I said. “Give me your phone.”

  He laughed. He punched in his code and handed it to me. “What are you going to do? Snap me?”

  “You have Snap?” I said, referring to Snapchat.

  “Hello. I have a seventeen-year-old,” he said.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Rose made me get it too.”

  “How is Rose?”

  I was surprised. “She hasn’t kept in touch?”

  James had been a father figure to Rose for a long time. Every once in a while, when she was growing up, she’d tell me she’d heard from him. I’d assumed they’d kept in touch.

  “We lost touch a few years ago. I figured I was just a pest, so I didn’t press the issue when she stopped responding to my texts,” he frowned. “Maybe that was the wrong thing to do.”

  My heart hurt suddenly. Rose was so good at pushing everyone who cared about her away.

  “She’s had some struggles, James. Nico got Alzheimer’s and died.”

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even ask about Nico.”

  “It’s okay,” I said and meant it. “I lost him many years ago when he got Alzheimer’s. I’m just grateful I had as much time with him as I did.”

  “You two were a
formidable couple,” James said.

  And that right there is why James and I will be able to be friends forever.

  It seemed to lighten up Madame Butterfly as well.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss,” she said, tossing her perfect and silky head of hair.

  I just looked at her. Whatever.

  I turned back toward James and handed him his phone.

  “I’ve added you on Snap,” I said. “Check your schedule for the next few days and let me know when we can get together.

  “I’m working, so I’ll have to check my shifts, but I’ll get back to you asap.”

  “SFPD still?”

  “He’s a commander,” Miss Van Cleef said.

  We both ignored her.

  Every time she spoke, a flicker of annoyance surged over me. Could I have a goddamn conversation with my old friend without her chiming in.

  “Anytime, James. I’m available for breakfast, lunch, or dinner.”

  The only reason I didn’t add “dessert” was because Dante would have kicked me in the shins.

  Ten

  After the elevator whooshed shut with James and Madame Butterfly inside, Dante turned to me.

  “She’s a piece of work.”

  “I can’t believe James would fall for that phony shit,” I said.

  “Gia, you’re not jealous, are you?”

  I made a face. “Hardly. She’s a cream puff. All fluffy and sweet with no substance.”

  “Huh,” Dante said. He crossed his arms and smirked at me.

  “Stop. Show me around already.”

  The swinging doors to the kitchen opened up to a short flight of stairs. The kitchen was actually on the floor below, which was how the restaurant had its 360-degree views. Impressive. The other door led straight up to the roof where guests could “take in the night air” as Dante said like a freaking character out of a Jane Austen novel.

  “There’s another stairway from the kitchen to a portion of the rooftop that’s blocked off,” Dante said. “It’s got air conditioning units and so on, but it’s actually a better view than the public view.”

  “Nice.”

  “Yeah. It’s where I go to think sometimes.”

  “How long have you been thinking of buying this place?”

  “Years.”

  “And it just now came up for sale?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is great. I can’t wait to go into business with you again, Dante. We make a damn good team.”

  He checked his watch. “I’m flying to San Diego to spend the weekend with Wayne. Want to come?”

  “I think I better stick around,” I said, airily. “After all, I just got home. I have a lot of unpacking and catching up to do.”

  Dante smirked. “Sure. I heard what you said to James.”

  “Sorry. Not sorry. We never could resist each other,” I said. “I haven’t gotten laid for a while. I’m horny. So sue me.”

  “You’re such a dude, Gia,” Dante said.

  “That’s not what James would say.”

  Dante just rolled his eyes.

  We stepped into the elevator. I pushed the button for the lobby.

  “I’ll walk you out,” I said.

  Downstairs, when the valet brought Dante’s rental car, I grabbed him by the chin and kissed him on the lips.

  “I love you, paesano. Give Wayne a kiss for me too.”

  He hugged me tightly and then whispered in my ear. “I’m so glad you’re back home.”

  “Me too.”

  I stood and watched his car drive away.

  I was about to turn when I felt someone at my side.

  “He’s pretty amazing, isn’t he?”

  In surprise, I turned to see the mayor. Was the mayor gay? I was about to tell him that Dante was happily married when I saw the way he was looking at me.

  “It’s great to have you on board,” he said. “We could use fresh blood on the committee.”

  “Is that what I am?” I said lightly.

  He cocked his head. “I can’t believe we didn’t run into each other when you used to live here.”

  Unless he liked getting shit-faced at my favorite bar—Anarchy—I doubted we would’ve crossed paths. But I didn’t say that. Instead, I said, “With all due respect, mayor, I don’t think we ran in the same circles.”

  “I spent a lot of time in North Beach during those years. Dante said you did, as well. I also lived in the Tenderloin a few years back.”

  “Oh,” I frowned.

  “That surprises you?”

  I shrugged. “Yeah. You just don’t look like the type to go slumming in the T.L.”

  “L’Abito Non Fa il Monaco.” It translated to “Don’t judge a book by its cover” or “Clothes don’t make the man.”

  “So, you’re Italian?” I asked.

  “Half.”

  “Nice.”

  “Nice?” His voice was teasing.

  I took another look at him. So his skin wasn’t just tanned from trips to Florida every year. Come to think of it, his last name was Italian—Ferraro.

  He cleared his throat. “I’m sure North Beach has changed a little since you were last here, but one of my favorite restaurants is still open. Rossetti’s Cucina.”

  “Yeah, that’s a good one.”

  I was getting eager to leave. This small talk was killing me. I wanted to go upstairs and change out of my white suit and into soft jeans and a worn T-shirt.

  “I have a reservation for dinner tonight, but my colleague’s flight was delayed,” he said and paused. Shit. He was asking me out. I stared wide-eyed like a deer in the headlights.

  “I’d hate to let the reservation go to waste. It usually takes a few weeks to get in.

  “Oh.”

  “I’m asking you to dinner,” he said with a smile.

  “Oh. Oh!” I said. “Um, sure.” My response was lame.

  But his smile remained.

  “Pick you up at seven? Here?”

  “All right,” I said and turned to leave.

  On the elevator ride up to my room, I was kicking myself. Fuck. I was out of shape at turning down dates. He was hot and all.

  I mean, I probably wouldn’t kick him out of bed, but I’d rather have James. James and I had a rhythm down. No bullshit. No awkward moments. It was pure animal lust. I didn’t need to have some new guy in my life who might expect more. Or, God forbid, would want to stay the night and cuddle. No thanks. I was over that.

  Plus, I was not interested in going on a date and making small talk. Not to mention, even though I was Italian, I had a strict rule against dating Italian men.

  Who needed that macho bullshit?

  Fuck. I was trapped. I had to play nice since he was the mayor and Dante had ordered it.

  Inside my room, I finally poured the drink I’d been craving all afternoon.

  I stripped off the beautiful white suit and hung it carefully in the closet. Standing in my underwear sipping my tequila, I eyed my clothes. What would be appropriate for dinner with the mayor? Fuck if I knew.

  I dialed Dante.

  “Ugh. The mayor asked me to dinner.”

  “Oh, poor Gia.”

  “I have nothing to wear.”

  “I know just the thing,” he said.

  Of course, he did.

  “Wear your black trousers with that emerald green camisole, and throw your leather blazer over it. Not the Patty Hearst one with the rough, scratched leather—the Gaultier one that looks like it’s silk.”

  “Got it,” I said with my phone between my ear and shoulder, as I pawed through my rack of clothes in the closet. “What shoes? What jewelry?”

  “Your emerald drop earrings—the monster-size ones that Nico got you for your fifth anniversary.”

  “Yep. I have those.”

  “And then on your feet, how about your peep-toe platform black Louboutin’s with the stiletto-heel?”

  The question in his voice concerned me.

  “You sure?
”

  He was quiet for a minute.

  “No. Do closed-toe for tonight. The Jimmy Choo pumps.”

  “Okay.

  “Have fun,” he said. “Behave yourself.”

  “Impossible,” I said and hung up.

  If only he had advice to stop me from sleeping with the next handsome man who gave me attention…

  I needed to get laid asap, or I would do something I would regret.

  I texted James.

  “Hey, cowboy. When are you free?”

  I waited but there was no response.

  Damn it.

  But a small part of me was glad he didn’t respond.

  I pretended that what was between me and James was purely physical, but that was a lie. It wasn’t fair to him. He was way more than a sexual partner. I loved James.

  I always would. It’s just that we could never be together.

  Unlike Nico, and even my latest love interest, Ryder, James could never know the things I’ve done in my life. I could never share that part of myself with him. I wouldn’t be able to bear the shame and guilt. I couldn’t bear him looking at me with scorn or disappointment.

  Thinking this, I texted Ryder.

  “San Francisco is really beautiful this time of year,” I wrote. “Most of the tourists who came for the summer and found it was cold AF have left. Now the really nice weather begins.”

  I hit send and waited.

  I saw the bubbles showing he was replying. Then the message appeared and made me smile.

  “Is that a hint? You want me to book my ticket?”

  “I wouldn’t complain if you did,” I wrote back.

  “It wouldn’t be until after the first of the year. This new client has me running my ass off day and night. But after New Year’s Day, he’s heading back to Brazil for the rest of winter, and my job will end.”

  “But that’s so far away,” I typed, wondering if the words conveyed the whine in my voice.

  “I’d invite you to visit me here, but dude has me at his beck and call. Good news is he ain’t cheap.”

  “What are you doing right now? This second?”

  “I just got out of the shower.”

  Jesus Christ.

  I could just picture him, naked in all his glory.

  “Do you have a towel around your waist?” I typed and then held my breath.