Near Miss

“What do you want?” Larson asked, surely as ever.

“I need to do a little shopping. Is your store open?”

“That depends on what you want.”

“An accessory for a friend’s Bentley.”

“How big of an accessory?”

“As big as it needs to be.”

“I might have what you need. It’ll cost you, though.”

“How much?”

“Two Gs.”

“No friends-and-family discount?”

“You are neither friend nor family.”

“That hurts.”

“Do you want it or not?”

“I want it.”

“Then come and get it. I don’t do deliveries.” Larson hung up.

Bozo did some quick math in his head, factoring in what else he would need and adding a pad, then called Trench back. “It’ll cost four grand.”

“You’re not thinking of skipping out on me, are you?”

“Four grand wouldn’t get me far.”

“Far enough.”

“The way I see it, this is my audition. Once you see how well I do, you’ll find more jobs for me, and I’ll make a whole lot more than four grand.”

“Give me thirty minutes.”

Chapter 20

Trench steeled himself before rapping on the door of the restaurant that his uncle sometimes used as an office. The place was located in Little Italy and closed at lunchtime.

A burly thug looked out at him from the other side of the glass, unsmiling.

“Open up,” Trench said.

The thug glanced over his shoulder and said something to someone deeper in the restaurant. When he turned back, he opened the door but stood in the gap, blocking the way.

“What do you want?” the thug asked.

“I’m going to give you a break and guess that you don’t know who I am. I’m here to see your boss, my uncle.”

Instead of stepping to the side, the thug shut the door again, locked it, and disappeared.

“Hey, asshole!” Trench knocked on the glass. “Let me in.”

He raised his palm to slap the entrance again when a new man appeared. This one Trench knew. He was a member of his uncle’s inner circle, Gregor... something or other. It didn’t matter. Everyone called him the Bean Counter.

The man opened the door. “Hello, Trench. I’m sorry, but your uncle’s in the middle of a meeting.”

“That’s okay. I’m sure you can help me instead.”

“What can I do for you?”

Trench looked left and right down the sidewalk. “Can we talk about this inside?”

The Bean Counter waited a beat before he stepped out of the way and let Trench in.

There were a dozen men in the restaurant, most of them enforcer-types. The door to the private dining room behind the bar was closed, so maybe his uncle really was in a meeting. Trench didn’t really care. He’d rather not deal directly with his uncle about this anyway.

“So?” the Bean Counter asked.

“I need money.”

The man did not look surprised. “How much?”

“Ten grand.” Trench subscribed to the belief that it was always better to ask for more than he needed.

“Ten? What do you need ten thousand dollars for?”

“Expenses.”

“What kind of expenses?”

“Personal expenses. Is that a problem?”

“Do you think your uncle has ten thousand in cash just lying around?”

Trench knew he did. He’d seen that much and more on other visits. “Well, maybe I should ask him.”

He walked around the man and headed toward the office door.

“Go ahead,” the Bean Counter said. “But you should know, he’s not in a good mood.”

That stopped Trench. Dealing with his uncle in the best of circumstances was nerve-racking enough, but if the man was in a bad mood, seeing him was the last thing Trench wanted to do.

“I can give you five thousand,” the Bean Counter said.

“That’s half of what I asked for.”

“Your math skills are as sharp as ever. Try this calculation out. I could give you half, or, if you keep complaining, I could give you nothing.”

Five grand was more than enough, but Trench didn’t want the son of a bitch to know that. Looking annoyed, he said, “If that’s all you can do, I guess I’ll make that work.”

“I thought you might. Give me a moment.”

The man vanished into a back hallway and returned holding a thick envelope. He handed it to Trench.

“Five thousand in fifties. I hope that works for you.”

“Yeah. Sure. It all spends the same.” Trench shoved the envelope into the inside pocket of his jacket and turned to leave.

“Trench?” the Bean Counter called.

“Yeah?”

“So that there’s no misunderstanding, we’ll be deducting that from next month’s allowance.”

Trench’s cheeks flushed. This guy was seriously pissing him off. But he knew it would be a waste of energy to argue the point. Better to talk to his mother and have her take it up with his uncle later.

“Whatever.”

He made a beeline for the exit.

Once he was back in his car, he called Bozo.

“I’ve got your money.”

“Great. Where can I meet you?”

“The gym?”

“I’ll be there in fifteen.”

Chapter 21

Joan walked into Stone’s office with the New York Post. “Have you seen the legal news on Page Six?”

“That’s the gossip page, not the legal news.”

“It is today,” she said, handing him the paper, folded to the headline.